Chapter 78 - The Gods Must Have A Sense Of Humour

  Lilia sat alone in the temple chamber.

  Again.

  Her journal rested open on her lap.

  Her hands were still stained with dried blood. When she pressed them against the page, faint marks smeared into the parchment.

  She tried wiping them away with the edge of her sleeve.

  They didn’t come off.

  That irritated her quite a bit.

  She exhaled sharply.

  Her eyes burned. Dark circles shadowed beneath them. Her silver hair hung loose and tangled, strands falling into her face where she’d stopped bothering to fix it.

  But she still picked up a piece of charcoal.

  And began to write.

  Things went poorly last night.

  I assumed my theory about the next aberration was wrong — that it wouldn’t test the ground.

  But the gods must have a sense of humor.

  She paused.

  Tilted her head back.

  Pressed her palms against her eyes and exhaled slowly.

  Then looked down and continued.

  The creature was worm-like—massive, the width of a tree trunk.

  It burrowed beneath the earth, attacking without warning. We could not strike it directly. Ariel could not fire at what she could not see.

  That made things… difficult.

  Her charcoal hovered.

  Memories forced their way in—Ryn shouting, dirt erupting upward, his blood across her sleeve, Ariel’s light splitting the ground.

  She swallowed.

  Just like before, I did not perform as well as I should have.

  Ryn took hits he could have avoided.

  Hits he only took because he was compensating for me.

  Her grip tightened.

  However, I discovered a pattern.

  Before it surfaced, there was a faint tremor in the ground.

  That tremor became our signal.

  We directed Ariel to fire into the earth at the first vibration.

  It worked.

  Partially.

  She paused again.

  We underestimated it.

  We assumed it could be ended with a single strike of Ariel’s light, as the previous aberration had.

  We were wrong.

  One shot was not enough.

  Her jaw tightened.

  Yet again, my plan was incomplete.

  And yet again, they paid for it.

  The charcoal stopped.

  Then moved again.

  Ryn finished it while Ariel and I retreated.

  He sustained further injuries.

  In her current state, Ariel may not be able to heal them.

  She can barely maintain herself.

  Her writing grew less steady.

  I knew we would not leave this trial without sustaining losses.

  To expect otherwise would be selfish.

  The charcoal trembled in her hand.

  But I can’t.

  Stolen story; please report.

  I can’t keep doing this.

  Tears slipped down her face, darkening the page where they fell. The charcoal smudged beneath her fingers.

  Can I be allowed to be selfish about that?

  She stared at the words.

  Then continued.

  I wanted to be useful.

  To stop being someone who only watches Ryn and Ariel fight.

  But is my presence helping?

  Or am I only increasing the cost?

  She stared at those lines for a long time.

  Then, suddenly…

  She dragged the charcoal across them.

  Black lines smeared the words.

  A moment later, she wiped at her eyes, smearing charcoal across her cheek.

  And then she stood slowly.

  ***

  Ariel regretted it.

  So much. So much that it almost hurt as much as the pain tearing through her body.

  Why did I do this?

  She lay with her back against the cracked temple wall, head tilted slightly forward. Every breath felt like something inside her was splintering.

  Her vow burned.

  Constantly.

  It felt like her bones were trying to tear through her skin— like the light inside her was eating her from within.

  She had forgotten what it felt like to live outside of agony

  Her eyes were half-lidded, vision blurred at the edges, but she could still make out shapes.

  Why did I do this?

  It was for them.

  Right?

  Through the haze, she saw Ryn.

  He was badly injured — worse than he let on. Bandages wrapped around his shoulder, thigh and chest. Dried blood still traced his armor.

  Yet he was already sitting upright.

  Already moving.

  Lilia stood beside him, a strip of cloth wound tightly around her shoulder. Her tunic was torn in many places, scraps of armor still clinging to it, dented and scraped, but she was nowhere near as badly injured as he was.

  Probably because of Ryn.

  She was helping rewrap his bandages carefully, focused, quiet.

  If this was for their sake…

  Then why were they the ones bleeding?

  Why were they the ones standing?

  And why was she—

  Unable to move.

  She let out a weak breath that might have been a laugh.

  I’m so pathetic.

  What was the point of this, Sol?

  I thought I was meant to gain power.

  Power that would help me protect my friends.

  Protect the people I care about.

  But all this trial has done—

  Is remind me how powerless I’ve always been.

  Her fingers curled weakly at her side, nails digging into stone.

  “I can’t even be mad at you,” she muttered under her breath.

  Because at the end of the day—

  It had been her choice.

  Her selfishness.Her inability to explain.Her refusal to trust them with the full truth.

  She had wanted to protect an entire kingdom.

  And here she was—

  Struggling to protect two people.

  Ryn was bleeding.

  Lilia was exhausted.

  And she could barely stand.

  Her jaw tightened.

  But Ariel forced herself upright anyway.

  Teeth clenched.

  Because if she didn’t—

  Then all of this would have been for nothing.

  ***

  Day six came and went quickly.

  Too quickly.

  Lilia almost felt like the days were shortening.

  But she doubted that.

  It was probably just exhaustion catching up to her.

  Most of the daylight was spent tending to wounds. Rewrapping bandages. Cleaning dried blood from armor and skin. Ariel forced small bursts of healing where she could, though each use left her visibly weaker, leaving most of their injuries untended to.

  They barely had time to plan.

  “Ariel,” Lilia asked quietly at one point, “are you sure you can still use your Blessing?”

  Ariel nodded sharply.

  “Yes.”

  Ryn opened his mouth.

  “If—”

  “I’m certain I can keep going,” Ariel cut in before he could finish.

  Lilia and Ryn watched her.

  Even speaking seemed to cost her now.

  But they didn’t argue.

  They couldn’t.

  Ariel’s light had become the backbone of every strategy.

  Without it—

  There wasn’t a strategy.

  They discussed positioning as they had every other day. Retreat points. Signals. Adjustments.

  But fewer words were shared.

  No one commented on that.

  Eventually, the light began to thin.

  The air sharpened.

  And the six suns dimmed once more.

  Night six.

  Again, they fought.

  ***

  Ryn’s sword was planted in the ground, the only thing keeping him upright.

  He leaned against it with his remaining arm, shoulders trembling from the strain.

  Blood soaked through his chest plate and down his side, warm and sticky beneath torn metal.

  He was breathing hard.

  Too hard.

  Each inhale scraped.

  For a moment he wasn’t sure if the air was even reaching his lungs.

  He stayed there, bent forward, staring at the ground.

  Listening to himself breathe.

  “Of course…” he muttered hoarsely. “Nothing ever stopped them from throwing multiple aberrations at us.”

  He forced his head up.

  Lilia was a few feet away, kneeling in the torn grass.

  Her face was tilted toward the sky, mouth open slightly as she panted, chest rising and falling rapidly. Sweat ran down her neck, her silver hair plastered to her skin.

  Her sword lay lazily at her side.

  She wasn’t bleeding.

  Just exhausted.

  Ryn looked past her into the dark.

  He couldn’t see Ariel.

  But he knew.

  She had probably collapsed somewhere behind them after firing her Blessing. Again.

  He swallowed.

  Looked back down at the blood pooling near his boots.

  His voice came out quieter this time.

  “We can’t keep this up…”