Rose glanced at Alana, who was standing a few feet away, watching them. “I saw both of you die,” she said, a sob catching in her throat. “It can’t be real.”
Alana looked at Kallias, waving her hand at Rose, as if Rose had proven her point. “You might as well have some fun with it, since she thinks it’s a dream.”
Kallias glared at Alana. “You’re still messing with her mind? Even now?”
“No!” Alana said with an indignant pout. “Maybe a little. Occasionally.”
“I can’t believe you,” he snarled. “You’re a bitch, even in the afterlife.”
“That’s not fair,” Alana complained. “I’ve been very nice, in my opinion.”
Kallias just stared at her—his glare as intimidating as it had always been.
“Her mind messes with her mind,” Alana argued. “I just enjoy the show.”
“How Erik ever loved you,” Kallias told Alana, “I’ll never understand.”
“I know my dress is torn, but surely, you see how beautiful I am!” Alana said. Her dark blue gaze shifted toward Rose. “Rose, tell him how beautiful I am!”
Rose lifted both eyebrows. “What kind of dream is this?” she muttered.
“She’s running out of time,” Alana reminded Kallias. “You better hurry.”
Kallias sighed. He turned to Rose, his light brown eyes warm and intense. “Listen, Rose,” he said, as she frowned at him, “I know you’re depressed. I know you’ve lost so many people and haven’t had time to properly…grieve. But I need you to hold on a little longer, okay? You’re the only one who can save the world.”
Pain flashed across Rose’s face. “No, I’m not. Before you died, Erastos told me the truth. I wasn’t chosen to be the hero. I was chosen to be the villain.”
“That’s true,” Alana agreed. “But you made yourself a hero, anyway.”
Rose glanced at Alana, surprised by her sudden sincerity. “But he said…”
“I know,” Alana interrupted. She leaned back against a nonexistent wall, her pale blonde hair flowing around her shoulders. “He told me the same thing—about you—but then, I met you, and you were different from what I’d expected.”
“Different, as in weird,” Rose muttered under her breath, “I assume.”
“Well, yes,” Alana laughed, “but that’s not the point.” She stepped closer, kneeling in front of her. “You defy expectations, love. You define who you are.”
Rose’s brows furrowed. “Are you actually being nice to me right now?”
Alana offered her a sugary sweet smile. “Don’t get used to it, darling.”
“You can’t give up, Rose,” Kallias said. “People are depending on you.”
Rose sighed, her chest heavy. “They’re depending on the wrong person.”
“No, they’re not,” Kallias argued. His light brown hair fell over his face, as he leaned closer to her. “I’ve underestimated you since I met you, but I realize, now, that you’re stronger than I ever thought you were. You’re stronger than you think you are. You don’t realize it yet, but you are the right person to depend on.”
“If that were true,” Rose said, “then you’d be alive. My brother would be alive. Alana would be alive. Dr. Parker would be alive.” She sighed, “I’ve failed at the one thing I tried to do. If I didn’t exist, everyone would be much better off.”
“And people call me insane,” Alana scoffed. “At least I don’t turn every minor tragedy into a condemnation of my character. People die, darling. It’s war.”
“Maybe you should,” Kallias said, “considering you cause half of them.”
“Also, umm,” Rose interjected, “you kind of blamed me for the deaths?”
Alana rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault that you let me manipulate you.”
Rose’s brows furrowed, as she tried to make sense of that logic.
“Rose,” Kallias said seriously, “none of those deaths were your fault. You did everything you could to prevent them.” He leaned back against the imaginary wall that Rose was leaning against—which was actually nothing but darkness, like the rest of this environment. “You didn’t take anyone with you—or tell us where you were going—because you wanted to protect us. I read their minds and came after you, anyway. You couldn’t have prevented that. It wasn’t your fault, Rose.”
Rose started to cry, all over again. “I can’t live in a world without you.”
“You’d say that about nearly anyone, Rose,” Kallias laughed. “You love so intensely, and you see everyone as so important, so irreplaceable.” When Rose opened her mouth to argue, he continued, “You can live without me. You have.”
“That’s not the same,” Rose said. “I still knew you were alive and safe.”
“As many people as you’ve lost recently,” Kallias said, “I know the world is starting to look a lot less like the one you loved. I know it feels like too much.”
“But Kara and Erik are still part of that world,” Alana told Rose, “and I know no one believes it, but I do care about them. I don’t want them to lose you.”
Rose blinked in surprise. “I don’t understand. How would they lose me?”
Alana’s dark blue eyes shifted toward Kallias. “She still doesn’t get it.”
“You have to take back control,” he told Rose, “before the world ends.”
“Take control of what?” Rose mumbled. “What are you talking about?”
Kallias looked up, suddenly, gazing into the darkness. “What was that?”
Rose followed his gaze, blinking at the total darkness. “What was what?”
Alana tilted her head, her dark blue eyes sparkling. “I know that scent.”
When Rose turned to ask Kallias, once again, what he was talking about, she found he’d disappeared. “Kallias!” she cried, scrambling to her feet. “Kallias!”
“Calm down, darling,” Alana said dismissively. “You can see him anytime you want.” She laughed. “I wouldn’t suggest hanging out with the dead all of the time, though. People might start to think you’re,” she paused, smiling, “crazy.”
Rose turned toward the seductive vampire. “Why are you still here?”
Alana’s smile deepened. “Same reason you’re hanging out with the dead.”
“Rose!”
“Ooh,” Alana murmured. “I know that voice, too.”
Rose knew it, as well—that soft, lilting voice that she’d feared she’d never hear again. Every part of her came alive at the sound of it. She turned, slowly, in the direction she’d heard it. Her pulse leapt at the sight of Kara, and relief poured through Rose so powerfully that she nearly crumbled to the floor. “How…”
Kara ran to Rose and threw her arms around her. Her long, slender arms wrapped Rose up so tightly that breathing wasn’t even an option. She still had her battle-axe in her hand, and Rose felt the death-hazard of a weapon brush against the back of her thighs, as they embraced. And yet, still, she felt so secure in Kara’s arms that she’d never complain. Rose pushed her hands beneath Kara’s jacket—needing to feel closer, somehow—as she looped her arms around Kara’s waist.
“Oh, Rose,” Kara sobbed. “I was so afraid I would never see you again.”
The pain in Kara’s voice pierced Rose so deeply that Rose found herself crying along with her. “I don’t understand,” she said softly. “How are you here?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” Kara told her. “Darkness let me in—somehow.”
Rose pulled back a little, meeting Kara’s wet, light blue gaze. “Darkness?”
“I tried to tell you,” Alana said with a shrug, “but you didn’t believe me.”
Rose glanced over Kara’s shoulder, frowning, as she met Alana’s gaze.
Kara noticed the direction of Rose’s gaze, and she turned, blinking at the darkness behind her. “What is it?” she asked Rose. “Do you see something, love?”
Rose’s bright blue gaze shifted back toward Kara. “You don’t see her?”
Kara shook
her head. She didn’t seem surprised or worried. Just curious.
“Other people don’t see the dead, darling,” Alana told her. She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger. “The God of Death, on the other hand…”
Rose’s frown deepened. She wanted to respond to Alana—ask her what the heck she was talking about—but she didn’t want to worry Kara. Surprisingly, though, Kara didn’t seem bothered by it at all. The darkness of Rose’s mind didn’t intimidate Kara like it would most people. “What is…Darkness?” she asked Kara.
Kara grimaced at the question. “You?” she said uneasily. “Essentially?”
Rose blinked slowly. “I don’t understand,” she mumbled, “like…at all.”
Kara nodded. She heaved out a deep sigh, and her icy blue eyes glistened with tears. “I’m just relieved to see you,” she sighed. “It’s all that matters, really.”
Rose reached out, touching Kara’s reddened arms. “What happened?”
“The storm, I suppose,” Kara said dismissively. “I’m sure it’ll heal soon.”
Rose’s bright blue gaze shifted up to meet Kara’s. “What kind of storm?”
“It’s a long story,” Kara said with a frown. “I need you to come back.”
Rose shook her head. “I don’t know how. I don’t know how to leave.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Kara assured her. “Just, please, tell me you’ll come?”
Rose’s chest tightened. She hated this dark, terrible place, but at the same time, the possibility of leaving—it terrified her. She wanted to escape the sadness, but at the same time, she feared what was outside of the darkness. Her nightmares often tricked her that way—teasing a cure, only to have that cure become poison.
“All right,” Kara said, as she sensed Rose’s fear. “I’ll stay with you, then.”
“What?” Rose said, her brows furrowing. “No. Kara, you can’t do that.”
“You don’t want me here?” Kara said with a concerned frown. “When I saw you,” she sighed, “you seemed as relieved as I was, but if I was wrong, I’ll…”
“No!” Rose interrupted. “You weren’t wrong.” She breathed out a shaky sigh and offered Kara a small smile. “I do want you here. Of course I want you.”
Kara’s mouth curved into a smile, as well. “Then, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is…this,” Rose sighed, “it’s my punishment. Not yours.”
Kara just stared at her for a moment, anguish twisting at her brows. Her lips parted, and a pained sigh escaped. “Rose,” she murmured. She stepped closer and pulled Rose against her. She leaned her head against Rose’s shoulder and said, “After all this is over, you need to really heal, okay?” She leaned back on her heels, gazing into those familiar, bright blue eyes. “But until then, I need you to know: you don’t deserve what you’re doing to yourself. You deserve only the best, love.”
Rose looked down, staring at the shadowy blackness beneath her feet. “I wish I could believe you,” she sighed. She shrugged one shoulder and looked up.
“You will,” Kara told her. “One day, you will.” She reached up and wiped a tear from Rose’s cheek. “If loving yourself is too hard right now, start with not hating yourself. Then, try accepting yourself. You don’t have to heal, all at once.”
Rose closed her eyes, tears flowing down her cheeks, even as she tried to hold them back. She had less control of it here. On the outside, she could fake it, but inside her mind, it was all raw, all exposed. She looped her arms around Kara’s neck and leaned against her, hiding her face. She felt the warmth of Kara’s palm against her back, her fingers clutching the back of Rose’s hoodie. The things Kara said unraveled Rose at the deepest level. Rose felt so exposed and broken, but for the first time in her life, she wasn’t ashamed of that—because Kara made her feel comfortable that way, because no matter how broken she was, Kara accepted her.
And that made Rose wonder if she could one day accept herself, as well.
“I should’ve told you the truth,” Kara whispered. “I’m so sorry I didn’t.”
Rose leaned back, glancing up at Kara. “The truth? About…what I am?”
Kara nodded. “I feared you’d blame yourself, but you did that, anyway.”
“The storm you mentioned,” Rose said worriedly. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?”
Kara sighed, “The Kingdom of Skotalia worships its own pantheon. The gods of their religion are more…force than person. Most of them aren’t capable of taking physical form. Most of them are forces, like water, earth, wind, and fire.”
“Most?” Rose repeated. Her chest fluttered with anxiety, as she thought about what Alana and Kallias said. “Are you saying that one of them is different?”
Kara nodded. “The reason there are so many natural disasters happening right now,” she sighed, “is that water, earth, wind, and fire all bow to one god.”
Rose’s brows furrowed. “If that’s true, that god sounds like a bad one.”
“She’s not,” Kara said. “She’s just hurting and hasn’t had time to heal.”
Rose’s stomach lurched. “Is this a nightmare, still? I can’t…I can’t tell…”
Kara watched, as Rose’s hands trembled. She knew Rose was starting to piece it together, that Rose’s pre-human memories were probably starting to surge to the forefront of her mind. “It’s not a nightmare, Rose. Our surroundings might not be real, but this,” she paused, gesturing from herself to Rose, “us, what we’re talking about—it’s all real.” She sighed, “You are Light and Darkness incarnate.”
Rose shook her head quickly. Her pulse skyrocketed. She turned around, expecting to see Alana there, laughing at her, but Alana was gone. It was just Rose and Kara, now—in a dark, shapeless hole, together. “That doesn’t make sense.”
“You don’t want it to make sense,” Kara argued, “but you know it does.”
Rose crossed her arms, suddenly cold. “What happened?” she whispered. “After Kallias…” she trailed off, unable to say it. “What happened after that?”
“You gave up,” Kara told her. “The dominant side of you took control.”
“Darkness,” Rose heard herself say. She wasn’t even sure how she knew, only that she did. Maybe her surroundings were enough of a hint—or maybe she was starting to remember things. “I didn’t mean to give up. I was just so…tired.”
“Of course you were tired,” Kara said, stepping closer. “You were trying to save everyone. You were trying to shoulder all of the responsibility and blame.”
“It’s so exhausting,” Rose said quietly, “always fighting my own mind.”
“Anyone would be tired, ást,” Kara said. “You exhausted yourself. That’s okay. Everyone gets exhausted. I’m an experienced warrior, and there have been times when I’ve been too exhausted or too wounded to keep fighting. There were times that I had to depend on other warriors, times that I had to depend on you…”
“What have I done?” Rose said in a pained tone. “How did I let the most dangerous part of me take control? The darker part of me—that’s the part I hate.”
Kara stepped forward and grasped Rose’s elbow. She turned Rose to face her. “I mean this with the utmost respect, but Rose, you have to stop doing that.”
Rose’s brows furrowed. “I have to stop doing what?”
“Hating yourself,” Kara said. “Do you remember that night at the Tomb of Blood? When I said you apologize for who you are—and that you shouldn’t?”
Rose gave her a small smile. “Yeah, you were pretty blunt about it, too.”
Kara nodded. “I’m going to be blunt again,” she said. “You’re still doing it. You’re still apologizing for who you are. You’re still hating who you are. Every part of you deserves to exist. Every part of you deserves to be loved. I love every part of you, Rose. Darkness might be the Destroyer of Earth, but she’s still you.”
“Destroyer of Earth?” Rose said, her eyes wide. “No, no, no. I didn’t…”
&nb
sp; Sensing Rose’s panic, Kara quickly cut in, “You haven’t yet. You can still stop it from happening.” As Rose breathed a sigh of relief, Kara said, “Darkness was doing it for a reason, though. If she doesn’t destroy the world, the war will.”
Rose frowned, as she remembered something. “I can end it painlessly.”
“Yes,” Kara said. “You can erase our existence, spare us a painful death.”
“Or I can keep fighting,” Rose said, “keep fighting against fate itself.”
Kara lifted an eyebrow. “It sounds like you’re starting to remember.”
Rose nodded. “Unfortunately,” she admitted. “Everyone must hate me.”
Kara crossed her arms across her chest. “No. I’m sure they understand.”
Rose lifted both eyebrows. “You’re lying, aren’t you?”
Kara looked away, shrugging. “Some of them might understand.”
“And the others?” Rose said worriedly.
Kara dropped her arms. “The others…want me to betray you.”
Rose swallowed uneasily. “Maybe you should.”
Kara’s light blue eyes widened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Rose winced at the hostility in her tone. “I mean, if it’d save the world…”
Kara dropped her battle-axe, as if to emphasize that she was not, in fact, going anywhere. Her blue gaze shifted toward Rose—glistening like ice, piercing Rose to the core. “You want me to betray you?” she said, her voice a low growl.
“Why not?” Rose said with a weary shrug. “You’d betray anyone else.”
“Because you’re not anyone else,” Kara said. Her shoulders relaxed, and everything about her seemed softer, all of the sudden, as if she’d cracked herself open, left herself vulnerable—for the first time in her life. “Because…I love you.”
A sob caught in Rose’s throat, as she looked down, as she tried to quell the tidal wave of emotion rising inside of her. “Kara,” she whispered, tears shining in her bright blue eyes, as she met Kara’s gaze. “I don’t deserve your loyalty.”
Kara lifted her shoulders in what she’d probably intended to be a shrug—but it wasn’t pronounced enough to be one. “I disagree. And it’s not your choice.”
The Reign of Darkness Page 72