It Ends in Fire

by Andrew Shvarts

  “Oh, well, not a big deal, but Desmond and I are dating now. So, that happened.” She bounces up and down, giddy with glee, and I have to admit it’s infectious. “It was amazing, Alayne! Perfect! We danced and we kissed and then we took a long walk and he said I was beautiful and then we kissed again in the snow and ahhhhh! It was the best night ever!”

  “I told you he liked you.” I grin. “Good for you two.”

  “Thanks,” she says, and then leans in close with a conspiratorial waggle of her eyebrows. “How about you, though? I couldn’t help but notice that you and Prince Broody Eyes vanished at the same time.…”

  “What? No. That was a—we didn’t—I mean—” I try, but my cheeks flush and that’s all the confirmation she needs. She clasps a hand over her mouth to stifle a squeal, and I shhh her as intensely as I can. “Don’t tell anyone! Seriously.”

  “All right. It’s our secret. Our completely amazing secret.” She shakes her head. “You’re going to have to tell me all the details. You know that, right?”

  “Maybe later,” I say, even though there’s no way I’m ever giving her even half the details. “Right now, I need to get in there and start preparing for this Maze of Martyrs.”

  “Right. Of course. Can’t stop our winning streak. You do whatever you have to do.” She turns to walk away, then stops, glancing back at me a little uncertainly. “And… you know. When you’re choosing your team to go into the maze, if you want me to join you, I’d be honored. Not that you have to pick me, of course, pick whoever you think will be best. But, if you do want me then, I’ll—”

  “Fyl,” I cut in. “Of course I’ll pick you. There’s no one I’d rather have by my side.”

  She claps her hands with glee. “Thank you. Seriously. To know that someone like you believes in me… I don’t know. I’d never have expected it.” She starts to go, then stops, and when she looks back, there’s more on her face than just joy. There’s something else, something serious, emotional. She bites her lip, hesitating, then finally speaks. “Alayne, can I tell you something? Something that might sound a little strange?”

  “All right.”

  “When I saw you on the ferry, standing all by yourself, do you know the real reason I came up to you? It’s because I had this… this feeling. Like you were important. Like my destiny was somehow tied up in yours. Like talking to you would change my life forever.” Her eyes are down, unable to meet mine, and I’ve never seen her so humble. “I know that sounds delusional, but I think there really was something there. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, Alayne. I’m so glad I met you.”

  I feel a surge of conflicting emotions so strong I almost have to sit down. Because of course there’s a part of me that warms at her words. I like Fyl, genuinely like her, and there is a part of me that wants her to be happy, that wants her to find the success and love and confidence she’s been seeking. There’s a part of me, a big part, that really sees her as a friend.

  But she’s not my friend, not really. She’s Alayne’s friend. She has no idea who I really am. She has no idea how much I’ve been manipulating her, no idea the web of deception I’ve spun, no idea that every step we take on this journey is to set me up to destroy her entire world. Fyl might be Alayne’s friend, but she’s Alka’s enemy, and sooner or later I know the veil will fall and the truth will come out and then what? She’ll be horrified. She’ll be devastated. And this entire friendship will crumble to ash.

  If anyone stands between you and our cause, cut them down.

  No. Maybe it doesn’t have to be like that. Maybe there’s another way, a better way. Whispers would’ve had me kill Marlena, but I didn’t and look where that got me. Maybe I can do something similar with Fyl, with Desmond, with Tish and Zigmund. They might be Wizards, but they’re good people. Maybe this doesn’t have to end in fire and blood. Maybe I could show them the way.

  “Alayne?” she asks. “Are you all right?”

  I clear my throat. “Sorry. Just got a little distracted. I’m so glad I met you, too.” I shuffle to the library awkwardly. “I should go now. Crack the maze and all that. But you go have a good day.” Then I smile. “Say hi to Desmond for me.”

  “Of course,” she replies, and then walks off, still practically glowing.

  It’s decided, then. I’ll find a way to save her, too. I’ll have to.

  Marlena is waiting for me at our usual table in the back. She glances up at me as I approach, and the sight of her feels sobering, clarifying. Nothing’s felt real since I sank into Talyn’s arms, but seeing her pulls me back to reality, to my mission, to who I really am.

  She doesn’t look any more well rested than she had last night. If anything, she looks even more tired. The dense tomes spread out before her explain why. I slide onto the bench opposite her with an apologetic shrug. “Marlena, have you been researching the maze all day? I’m sorry.…”

  “Don’t apologize. I want us to win, and I’ll do whatever it takes.” Her amber eyes flit up to mine, thoughtful, scrutinizing. “Are you all right?”

  “Me? Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You ran out last night looking distressed,” she says, and I can’t tell if she’s concerned or suspicious or… something else. “Right after you danced with the prince.”

  “Oh. That.” I shift uncomfortably in my chair. I would really like to stop answering questions about my night. “That was nothing. I just needed some fresh air.”

  Her voice drops to a whisper. “And I suppose you had nothing to do with the two Vanguard boys who were found murdered in the woods?”

  The room suddenly goes very cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, and we both know it’s a lie. Her gaze bores through mine, and I feel a deep uncertainty twist my stomach. Even after everything she shared with me, there are moments like these when I can’t read her, when I can’t tell what’s really dancing behind those intelligent eyes. “Listen. I know this whole situation is very dangerous. If you want to pull out, to protect yourself, then you can. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

  Her forehead crinkles with exasperation. “You misunderstand. I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you.” She leans across the table, her voice so low I can barely hear it. “I don’t know what you’re mixed up in or what happened last night. I just know things are moving fast. Aberdeen is watching you like a hawk, and the Vanguards are plotting something. You need to be careful, Alayne. You can’t afford to slip up. Not now. Not when we’re so close.”

  “I’m not going to slip up,” I whisper back. In another context, I’d bristle at having to defend myself, but I can see the worry in her expression. “I mean it, Marlena. I know what I’m doing. We’ll win this thing. I’ll get you off this island.”

  “And the prince?” she asks, as something inscrutable dances across her face. Unease? Worry? Jealousy? “Can we trust him?”

  “We can,” I say, and I realize I genuinely mean it.

  “All right, then.” She pulls back, and it’s like she’s changed instantly, back in scholar mode, as if she hadn’t just accused me of murder. She wears a mask incredibly well, and I know that should make me wary, but all it does is make me want to get closer. “So. The Maze of Martyrs.”

  “What do we know?”

  “Upsettingly little.” She gestures at the heaps of books around her. “Below the island, there’s an ancient stone labyrinth, from back when the school was founded. It’s a dark, dank nightmare of crypts and ruins, full of puzzles and magic. The professors place thirty gems throughout, and it’s up to teams of five to find them.” She spins one of the books around, revealing an illustration of a young man screaming in pain, a stone javelin skewering him to a wall. “There are also traps. Many, many traps.”

  “Gods,” I mutter, and I can’t help but wonder if Aberdeen is trying to kill me.

  “The puzzles are all built to test deep knowledge of magical principles, history, and mathematics. The trial favors scholarly research.” Her eyes flit
across the room, and I see Vyctoria and a bunch of her fellow Seluras gathered around a table overflowing with books, poring over research with military precision. “It favors Selura.”

  “So how can I win?”

  “You could study intensely and actually learn the things they’ll be testing?”

  I glance back at the Seluras, where Vyctoria is shouting history questions at her fellow students who bark dates back. “Come on. Be realistic.”

  “Right.” Marlena bites her lip. “I’ve been thinking, and there is another way, maybe. But it’ll be incredibly dangerous and involve breaking many school rules. The kind of rules they’ll expel you over. Are you all right with that?”

  I almost laugh, because I literally killed someone last night. “Marlena. You know me. What do you think the answer is?”

  I can see her fight back a smile, see the way her eyes sparkle. Because for all her worry and caution, she wants this, wants to break the rules, wants to get dangerous. She’s spent her whole life being the perfect servant, the loyal Humble, but deep inside, there’s a girl just desperate to let it all burn. “I think you’re mad,” she says, and her low purr makes it clear it’s a compliment.

  “Damn right.” I lean forward, grinning right back. “Now let’s be mad together.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Then

  I am ten when I learn Whispers’s harshest lesson.

  The moment is grim. Sera and I sit on a bench in the center of that ramshackle Laroc warehouse while Revenants scramble all around us, packing everything up. Crixus hurls pallets of supplies onto a wagon. A lean woman takes the weapons off the racks and lays them on a long cloth sheet. A clamor of shouts fills the air. I don’t know what’s happening, not exactly, but I can tell we’re in trouble, that something bad happened last night. A half dozen Revenants lie on stretchers around the room, bloodied and battle scarred, while Pavel hustles between them, face red, chest heaving, healing what little he can. Three more lie at the back of the room, covered with sheets. Sera stares at them, her face so pale she’s practically white. She’s not taking this well.

  “Girls.” Whispers approaches us with purpose, her cane clacking loudly on the stone floor with each step. “Did you pack your things as I asked?”

  “We did,” I say, gesturing at the two heavy sacks lying in front of us. “Where are we going?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Dunbar, maybe, or Midgar Bay.” She glances down at her hand, then wipes a spot of blood off her shirt. “South, anyway.”

  I nod and nudge Sera, trying to sound chipper. “You wanted to go south, didn’t you? Where it’s warmer?”

  But her eyes are trained on the bodies, her little mouth curled into a frown that seems decades older. “What happened?”

  “A mission went wrong. We were ambushed. We fought. We lost. That’s all you need to know,” Whispers says.

  For once, Sera doesn’t accept it. “Who died?” she demands, and even though she’s quiet, there’s a hard determination behind her words.

  I turn to stare at her. I’ve never seen her push back on Whispers, not like this. I’m the troublemaker who demands an explanation for everything; she’s the good student who does whatever she’s told. Whispers clearly notices, too, because she pauses, studying her closely. “Tasha. Baelyn. Valay. And I don’t think Carlyle is going to make it,” she says without a drop of emotion. “Now then. Are you satisfied?” Her eyes narrow. “Or is there something else you’d like to say?”

  “I—I just—” Sera stammers, like she almost wants to be quiet but she can’t stop the words bubbling out. I don’t know whether to be proud of her for being assertive or horrified that she’s choosing to do it now. “Why does it have to be like this? Why do we have to do this?”

  “‘This’?”

  “This!” Sera almost yells, gesturing at the chaos, the wounded, the dead. “The running and the hiding and the fighting and the dying! Death, death, and more death!” A few heads turn to us, and Whispers gives them a glance so icy they quickly look away. “What if we could talk to the Wizards or make peace with them or help them understand? We know there are good Wizards out there like Pavel! If we got them on our side, if they stood up for us, if they were in charge…”

  Now I’m firmly on the side of wishing she had kept quiet. Whispers stares at her for one endless, excruciating moment. “All right,” she says. “I’ll tell you.” Then she turns and walks across the room, grabs a chair, drags it over, and sits down opposite us. “Let me tell you a story, girls. Twenty years ago, I was just a young Revenant, stationed at a little camp in Silvercreek. I had a very important job, though. See, our group had recently captured a Wizard, a young man named Gable Grimshaw. We were going to torture him for information and then kill him when he stopped being useful. That was the plan, anyway.”

  I look to Sera to see if she understands why we’re suddenly having story time, but her attention is entirely on Whispers. “But?”

  “But I was lonely and he was scared. So we started talking,” Whispers says with a sad little smile, right then more human than I’ve ever seen her. “We became friends. More than that, really. I began to care for him deeply, to trust him. Maybe even love him a little. He assured me that he wasn’t like the other Wizards, that his family supported Humbles. He promised me that if I let him go, we’d run away together, that we’d work with his parents to reform the system from within, that we’d fix the world without spilling another drop of blood. I believed him. So one night, when the coast was clear, I unlocked his cell and let him go.”

  I can guess where this story is going, but I’m riveted all the same. “What happened?”

  “What happened was he drove six inches of steel into my side,” Whispers says, and any trace of warmth melts away instantly. She lifts her shirt and shows us the jagged white scar running from her hip to her ribs. “What happened was he left me bleeding to death on the cold floor. What happened was that now I need this.” She gestures at her cane. “That’s what happened, Sera Chelrazi, when I tried to find another way.”

  “What happened to the Wizard?”

  “He got away. We had to abandon the camp. I recovered, and I hardened, and I learned. I plotted and I planned. And ten years later, I captured him again, this time on a ship sailing to the Kindrali Isles.” Whispers smiles again, and this is her real smile, a shark’s grin, terrifying. “I nailed his hands to the mast and set him aflame. And I stared into his eyes as he burned alive.” She slides her chair forward, its legs scraping loudly against the floor. “Do you understand, Sera? Do you understand what happens when you show kindness, weakness, when you yearn for ‘another way’?”

  Sera stares at the floor. “You get betrayed.”

  “No. You get stabbed.” Whispers rises from her chair, and I can’t help but notice her subtle wince. “There can be no other way, Sera. No peace, no diplomacy, no understanding. Even the ‘good Wizards’ will turn on you eventually. Even the ones who’ll listen will always choose protecting their own. Killing a king fixes nothing when the problem is the throne. Pleading with the captain doesn’t save a ship in a storm.” She turns away from us. “A broken world cannot be mended through kind words, through civility, through compassion. A broken world cannot be reformed or redeemed. A broken world only ends one way.” She stares across the room where several Revenants are standing in silence, hands over their hearts, as Pavel drags a sheet across Carlyle’s still form. “It ends in fire.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Now

  The Second Challenge happens in that odd half season between winter and spring, when the crisp snow gives way to muddy earth, when it’s warm enough that you don’t want to wear your coat but cold enough that you can’t go without it. We gather at the entrance to the maze, an old stone amphitheater on the island’s northern tip. Five doors are built into the structure’s wall, each adorned with the crest of an Order. Even though the whole school is here, sitting on tiered benches around the entrances, this really isn’t a spectator
challenge like the Balitesta game; the other students will get to hear Aberdeen give his speech and watch the teams vanish below ground. The tunnels are designed so that all the teams start on different paths. We might meet up, or we might not; it depends on the choices we make and how fast we go. Meanwhile, out here, the other students will sit restlessly until the teams emerge, carrying however many gems we could find. It sounds miserable, especially in this gray, damp weather.

  Luckily, I’m not up in the stands. I’m down on the ground by the door with the black sigil of the Order of Nethro, bouncing up and down on my feet as I await the signal to go. My teammates stand behind me: Fyl, Desmond, Tish, and Zigmund. No one would call them the best scholars in the Order, but that doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters now is that none of them raise any suspicions about what’s going to happen next.

  “So, do you have some great plan again, Alayne?” Fyl asks. We’re all wearing matching black cloaks, but she has her hood pulled up high, framing her narrow face in shadow. “Because, I’m not going to lie, I don’t think any of us have been doing our research.”

  “I have,” Tish says quietly.

  “Relax.” I shoot Fyl the most comforting smile I can. “Just follow my lead.”

  Around us, the teams of five from the other Orders are gearing up. The Zartans look utterly miserable, bleary-eyed, and dour. The Seluras are still drilling, even here, Vyctoria barking last-minute questions at her squad. Behind them are the Vanguards, led by Marius. I’ve avoided him ever since the Founders’ Day Gala, and I’m confident he’s been avoiding me, too. Our eyes meet now, though, and his narrow with cold, seething hate.

  I look the other way at the last team, the Javellos. Talyn’s their leader, and he huddles with his teammates, whispering and strategizing. Even though we’ve spent a few more nights together, we’ve agreed that out here in the challenge, we’re just two students competing for a prize. May the best Order win, he said last night, his lips brushing against mine. Just do me a favor and let me take second place.