The Destined

by E. J. Mellow

  “They know you’re more than safe with me.”

  I scoff. “But yet the one who’s supposed to have limitless powers and the ability to save two worlds can’t take care of herself.”

  He shrugs. “Their rules, not mine. Though I tend to agree with anything that will keep you out of harm’s way.”

  “You do realize what I’m meant to do here, right?”

  “Yes, but it’s not Metus I’m worried about.”

  I regard him a moment, take in the way his brows pinch in slightly, his gaze sliding away from me. “You’re worried about your own people.” It’s not a question.

  “People can be a very different kind of beast.”

  “Yes,” I agree softly, the terrorism and violence happening on Earth enough of a testament to this. Feeling the need to change the subject, I ask, “Where were you earlier? That made you late?”

  My question pops us out of our moment, and Dev drops his arms from around my waist to run a hand through his hair. “I had to take a call with the Council.”

  “Oh?” I wait for him to elaborate, which he seems less than pleased to do.

  He takes a deep breath. “It’s Aaron. His trial date has been set.”

  I feel my face paling. I actually managed a few days without thinking about the man. “When is it?”

  Dev’s eyes dance to mine. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?” My chin juts back.

  He nods.

  “But…I have to be there.”

  His eyes cut to mine. “No, you don’t.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Molly—”

  “No, Dev. This is the man who tried to kill me, remember? I should be there for his sentencing. I’m surprised they don’t need me to testify.”

  “We decided against it.”

  My mouth hangs open at the knowledge that he had a say in it.

  “Your testimony wasn’t going to be necessary,” he adds quickly. “Aaron’s fate is already firmly sealed regardless of you getting on the stand.”

  This I, of course, knew. Termination. A sentencing that is very, very, uncommon in Terra, life being as precious as it is. But even so, I don’t know for sure whether this is what Aaron will get.

  “Dev,” I try again, more calmly this time. “I have to be there. If not for me, then for Aurora.”

  This only seems to unnerve him more, some hidden emotion flickering through his teal-tipped eyes, but after he clenches and then unclenches his fists he says, “Okay.”

  I stand, shocked. “Okay?”

  “Yes,” he sighs. “I’m coming to learn what I can and can’t fight you on.”

  I deflate a little, relieved. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, his words strangely echoing Elena’s from earlier, and without either of us saying it, we feel the whispers of our next thoughts.

  No matter tomorrow’s outcome, either way won’t be good.

  — 28 —

  A horrible thing happens when returning to work after a vacation. Somehow all my memories of the blissful hours lying in the sun, drinking margaritas, and rising late are sucked from my brain and devoured by the mere act of walking back into the lobby of my job. I’m not saying my trip to Port City was like a beach vacation or that returning to Terra is anything like my old marketing job, but the few days away in another place, experiencing new things, did carry the illusion of a mini getaway. Maybe being near water helped weave this. Whatever it was, as I now sit in the intimidatingly cavernous courtroom back in Terra, it’s like Port City never happened. Any confidence I gleaned there from the citizens accepting me or success I felt from properly maneuvering political conversations with the city delegates, it’s all gone the moment I watch Aaron being led to the circular podium in the center of the large marble-domed chamber.

  It’s the first time I’ve seen him since the night he stuck a knife in my gut, and as if it’s still lodged there, my hand unconsciously goes to cover the spot. Only soberness and anxious dread fill my veins as I take in his appearance. His frame is shockingly thin—now so much like his sister’s—as his prison scrubs hang loosely on his shoulders. His once thick dirty-blond hair is now long, limp, and disheveled. But despite all this, his hazel eyes still hold a lucidness, a calculating air as he’s shackled to his dais and glances around. The threat he poses still manages to exude from his weakened body, and as a tiny smile dances upon on his lips, I’m terrified of whatever sick thoughts swirl in his mind. How this was the jovial doctor who treated me at the hospital is mind boggling.

  A mass of Navitas rests high in the ceiling and shines a blue-white spotlight directly onto him, bleaching his pallor further, and a packed house watches on in the shadowed bleachers that circle the space. Above them are three more balconies of onlookers. The sound of their collective whispers echoes in the chamber, the gray marbled space feeling cold despite so many bodies to warm it. My seat is in a heavily guarded private tier, receding enough into the wall that my presence is hopefully indiscernible. Yet I still shift restlessly, nervously, for I’m directly in front of Aaron, and my breath is in a constant state of being held, waiting for him to look up. But his attention is directly below me, on the elders and Council representatives who sit in the inner ring on the ground floor. Dev is among them, only the back of his head visible to me, and I look around wondering where Aurora is.

  Tim, Aveline, and Hector sit in my box, Tim resting a hand on mine, a supportive nod, before facing forward once more. I chew my bottom lip, wondering which sentencing the old guardian is hoping for and strangely find my own desire just as illusive. Despite the amount of agony and fear I experienced when ripped from Terra, from Dev, I can’t find it in me to hate Aaron, not enough to wish for his death. I mean, I came back in the end, right? There were repercussions to that of course, but none that actually took a life, in the literal sense. Plus, there’s Aurora to consider. What would happen to her if her brother truly died? They say twins here have a bond greater than any other connection. Would she perish along with him? Or could she survive it?

  The immediate hushing of the courtroom brings my attention to Elena standing below. “We are here to bear witness and judge the crimes of the accused—Vigil made Nocturna guard, Aaron.” Her voice booms through the space, traveling all the way up to the farthest balcony. “Prisoner G543,” she says to Aaron, “you have been accused of an unsanctioned abandonment of post, unauthorized dimension travel, wrongful impersonation, theft, and first-degree murder. How do you plea?”

  Aaron gives no answer.

  “Accused, how do you plead?” Elena repeats louder.

  To that Aaron gives an inaudible mumbled response, his head now dipped down, his long curls hiding his face.

  A small impatient sigh passes from Elena before I feel a ripple of energy shoot through the room and watch, in amazement, as Aaron’s head gets thrown back, his back forced straight.

  “How do you plead?” Elena forces a lightness to her tone. I hold in my surprise, while the rest of the onlookers shift uncomfortably. I’ve never seen Elena exhibit her powers like this before. Had no idea she even could. I glance to the other elders. How much Navitas are they capable of tapping into, using externally? I hate that I can find no instances of it in my memory Dreamer bank.

  Aaron chokes, whatever power Elena has wrapped around him apparently not comfortable. “Guilty to all but one,” he finally spits out.

  A murmur goes through the crowd.

  “And to which do you plead innocent?”

  “Murder,” he croaks.

  Instantly, he slumps back into his chair, Elena releasing her grip.

  “I see,” she says. “What evidence do you have to fight against this accusation?”

  A slow, twisted grin slides along his face. “Because she’s not dead,” he says, and then, just as I feared, his eyes travel up to find me in the shadows. “In fact, she’s right here.”

  My skin erupts with a cold sweat, my stomach curling in on itself as th
e threat of bile climbs up my throat. My guards instantly step closer, all but blocking my view of the man who appears extremely pleased with himself.

  People twist around to gaze where Aaron does, to see the Dreamer, me. Below, the Council and elders mutter among themselves, Dev the only one not part of their conversation. Instead he’s turned, looking up at me, his brows drawn together in a severe frown. This is precisely what he feared, Aaron aware of my presence. But there’s no way he can get to me from where I sit. Absolutely no way…

  But as I glance down into Aaron’s glistening, mad hazel eyes, I know that’s not true. He’s able to touch me just by holding my gaze, acknowledging that he sees me, sees me, and knows of my return. Phantom sensations of his hands wrapped around my neck, his hot breath on my skin as he whispered his words of hate surround me—the violation of it all. And like a switch, I’m suddenly angry, livid that he holds such power over me, even when he stands so far below, restrained. Despite my early convictions that he should be spared, a rage I’ve only felt at my darkest moments edges along my vision. He should be punished, it whispers. He showed you no mercy. He took everything from you, everyone. Do the same. The words echo in my mind, and I can’t help the lick of dark-oil energy that pulls from my stomach, a fire directed straight at him, and before I know what I’m doing, Aaron is screaming in pain as I ignite his stand. The flames don’t touch him, but I insert the illusion into his mind that his skin is burning, melting brutally to the bone.

  The crowd shrieks in horror.

  “Molly.” Hector’s calm but insistent voice breaks me out of my manifested revenge, and instantly I blink back to reality. Aaron’s wails reduce to groans as the fire snaps out, leaving small wisps of smoke in its place. But just as the room is enveloped in a shocked silence, someone cries from the crowd, and I watch Aurora tumble down the bleachers on the first level, desperate to go to her brother, but snatched back by Ezekial.

  “What did she do to him?!” she yells, struggling against Ezekial. “She can’t do that!”

  My nails dig into my chair’s armrests as disgust, shame, and guilt slam into me. What have I done?

  A laugh brings my attention back to the center of the room to find Aaron peering up at me. His skin is flushed red from my recent demonstration, sweat slipping down his cheek, dampening his already slick hair, and his lips are white rimmed and dry. But his eyes…his eyes are excited and wild as he continues to chortle in pleasure.

  “You all should be thanking me,” he spits out. “Look how dangerous she is! It could be anyone of you that our dear Dreamer decides to play with. Who’s to stop her?”

  “Quiet,” Elena bellows. “If you cannot control your outbursts, we will see to it that you will not be allowed to speak.”

  “Me control my outbursts?” He laughs again. “Was it me who just set a man ablaze? Was it me who just lashed out when I have done nothing but answer your questions? Am I to be punished for her abuse of power?” He looks to the crowd. “Let what is happening to me be a warning to you all. Do not trust—”

  His words are suddenly cut off as Elena uses her powers to silence him. Nodding to the nearby Nocturna guards, they approach Aaron and place a bind to his mouth. But his damage has been done, for the citizens appear uneasy, flickers of resentment zeroed in on me as a few shout “go home,” “freak!” I want to scream back, to tell them how easily they have just been manipulated, how easily I have been.

  God damn it. He’s gotten us all where he wants us, even as he stands chained and now gagged. It’s in this moment I realize what his sentencing needs to be, and it chills me to the bone to accept it, to want such a thing, but I see no other solution. It makes me want to scream all the more, destroy something, but I don’t because I know I can’t, and when one of my Vigil guards whispers to me that the elders request my immediate removal, I sag in acceptance and slight relief. Without a word I stand, giving one last distasteful glance at Aaron, taking in the malicious, triumphant grin edged on his lips before turning away, somehow feeling guiltier than if I were the one on trial.

  —∞—

  While I await the news of Aaron’s sentencing, I’m shown into the Nocturna recovery wing. Hector accompanied me out of the courtroom and surprised me with the smart idea to see to the wounded soldiers.

  “Might as well prove Aaron’s words wrong by helping where you’re most needed,” he said, and after taking a moment to calm myself to think clearly, I nodded sullenly.

  Seeing such a packed room of injured men and women is only more proof that the war is slowly worsening day by day, but despite the dismal scene that tightens a vice around my heart, my earlier dejected spirit of failure lifts ever so slightly as I find myself doing something useful. At least here the Nocturna appear happy to see me. So I go bed to bed and talk with each one of them, listen to how they got hurt, and offer help where I can.

  After lifting my hands from a particularly brutally burned leg connected to a brave-faced soldier—giving her some relief by channeling some of her pain to me—I wipe my brow. She’s the tenth person I’ve felt the need to do that for, the nurses and doctors overwhelmed and backed up in handing out nerve sedatives. I know I can’t keep this up much longer, my own skin growing sickly pale, and my tongue now covered in a metallic taste, but I feel the desperation to continue, the importance. Knowing it’s my own self-inflicted penance for my earlier outburst and, no doubt, possibly ruining Cato’s carefully laid-out plans to win over the people of Terra. I can’t even imagine the lecture I’ll soon be subjected to.

  “Perhaps that’s enough,” Hector says beside me as we walk to the next bed.

  “I can do a few more.” I smile to a young man whose arm is in a sling, the side of his head being worked on by a hovering bot that’s weaving stitches into a gash.

  Before I can say hello, Hector pulls me up short, his green gaze finding mine. “I understand what you’re doing, and I even admire you for it, but when I suggested we come here, I didn’t do it for you to faint from exhaustion.”

  “I’m not going to faint,” I say, holding back an eye roll, because I’m pretty sure the gesture would cause me to faint.

  “Right,” he says, unconvinced while crossing his delicately sinewed arms.

  “What do you want me to say?” I huff. “These people need help.”

  He watches me a moment, the cut of his scar pinching with his narrowing eyes. “You don’t have to punish yourself for what happened.”

  I turn away. “Don’t I?”

  “Molly.” He says my name so softly that I glance back, surprised to find a drape of sympathy in his features. For some reason seeing such an expression on his otherwise arrogantly puckered face annoys me more.

  “I understand how you’re feeling, trust me, better than most.” He shakes his head slightly. “But what you did back there was hardly a blunder. In fact, I’m pretty sure half the Council, not to mention the elders, were desiring the same thing.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Why? Because you think it makes us bad people? Well, let me tell you something—it doesn’t. It merely makes us mortal, or as you say on Earth, human. We’re complicated creatures, Molly, with thoughts and feelings independent of what we might actually act upon—”

  “But that’s just it,” I cut in. “I acted upon it!”

  “Barely.”

  I let out a humorless laugh. “Right. Setting his podium on fire is barely acting.”

  “You could have done a lot more,” Hector says with an edge. “We both know fire is the least deadly of your possible sins.”

  I jerk my head back. Wondering how much he knows about my ability to travel into the other plane of sight, to see the life’s energy coursing through the room, through him. How I can stop it all with one concentrated thought.

  “I’m not judging what you possess,” he continues. “I’m just trying to prove a point. Not everyone could handle the things you’ve been given access to. Most would abuse it, immediately. I certainly wo
uld,” he admits, and I’m not sure if that’s true or if he’s still painting himself the heathen. “But in all the days you’ve been coming here, have had the Navitas at your beck and call, what’s the worst you’ve done with it?”

  I give no answer.

  “Exactly,” he says. “So you let your emotions get the better of you one time to a person that tried to kill you. I mean, come on. I’d say that is well within your rights.”

  “I dropped a ceiling on Aurora.”

  Hector blinks. “What?”

  “She was flirting with Dev.”

  Hector stares at me and then stares some more before his lips waver and his head is thrown back with laughter.

  I glance around, embarrassed by the joyous noise in such sad surroundings.

  “By the elders.” Hector rests a hand to my shoulder. “I think I officially have a crush on you.”

  “Eww.” I shrug him off.

  “You wound me.” He covers his heart. “Am I really so revolting?”

  Luckily, I’m saved of needing to reply by Dev walking into the far door of the recovery wing. His mouth is set into a stern line, his black-clad body tense as he makes his way toward us. Without saying a word, he brings me into his arms and kisses me. I stiffen at first, shocked at his public display of affection, but then relax as the feel of him does what it always can—melts away my resolve.

  Hector clears his throat, rather loud, beside us, while a few nearby soldiers let out a whistle. Eventually Dev pulls back, cupping my face with his palm. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

  “You’re sorry?” I crease my forehead as I step back. “I’m the one who let Aaron manipulate me into making a scene.”

  “That was hardly a scene,” Hector grumbles, while Dev says, “We should never have let the trial be public.”

  “Like you could really have changed that.”

  “We could’ve tried.”

  I let out a tired sigh. “Whatever, it’s done now.” And then wait a beat before asking, “What was decided?”