Soon enough, it was over, and Kaleb smiled. A small, nervous smile, but a smile nonetheless.
Before, Alessa had been the Finestra in name only. Now she was in truth. Kaleb was her Fonte, and he would be her partner in battle.
Tomo and Renata came up to congratulate them, heaping praise on the Padre and the other members of the Consiglio about how smoothly the plan had gone and how the island would be well protected because of their brilliance.
“Go on,” Renata said in an aside. “We’ll keep them busy for a while so you two can get away.”
The sooner they could return to training and change into their normal clothing, the sooner Alessa could pretend it was just another day, so she took the opening.
“Now what?” Kaleb asked, as they walked back down the aisle.
“I don’t know,” Alessa said. “I guess we keep practicing until Divorando.”
The others were waiting in the foyer outside the temple, Kamaria on crutches, Saida mopping her eyes with her sleeve, and Josef waiting to clap Kaleb on the shoulder like a stern, elderly man trapped in a seventeen-year-old’s body.
They raised a cheer, and Kaleb sniffed loudly. “Dusty down here.”
Alessa removed her gloves to wipe her eyes, and Kamaria nodded at them. “One last time, together?”
The world went blurry as they all reached out, stacking their hands together.
Their powers tingled through her skin, melding into something she’d never experienced before, expanding inside her chest into something buoyant and electric.
The foyer lit up as tendrils of lightning snaked through swirls of snowflakes amidst fiery tornados ringed with clouds of mist. A magical ecosphere expanded and contracted around them in time with Alessa’s breath, illuminating their awestruck faces. Glittering ice crystals danced and chimed in a strange and beautiful song as though her power—their powers—rejoiced. Alessa’s gift purred with satisfaction.
Almost simultaneously, Kamaria, Josef, and Saida let go. Everyone but Kaleb. The magic remained for a moment, then their gifts winked out. Her power expanded to fill the space left behind. What had been enough was no more, her gift no longer sated, like a sudden thirst.
Kaleb’s grip went lax. His eyes flew wide, and his fingers curled like paper lit on fire. He hit the floor with a sickening thud.
No. Not again. Alessa’s ribs were iron bars, locked around her lungs.
Her fault. Always her fault.
“No. No. No.” Alessa backed down the aisle, shaking her head, away from yet another dying Fonte.
Failure. Murderer.
There it was. Her answer. The verdict. Dea had spoken.
She wasn’t meant to save. She was created to kill. That’s all she’d ever do.
Across the corridor from the temple, the stairs led back to the Cittadella.
To her right, the corridor to the city.
To her left, darkness.
The darkness won. She ran.
Thirty-Nine
A torto si lagna del mare chi due volte ci vuol tornare.
He ought not complain of the sea who returns to it a second time.
DAYS BEFORE DIVORANDO: 13
There were worse places to die.
The moon hovering just above the horizon seemed twice as large as it had in the city. Alessa sat on a large piece of driftwood, running her palms over the rough bark until something caught. She pulled the splinter free and tossed it into the grass, then squeezed her finger until a trickle of blood dripped into her palm.
If she’d been another girl, in another life, perhaps she’d be sprawled on a beach blanket with someone she loved, counting stars, trading kisses, and watching the ripple of moonlight on the waves. But that life was not for her.
Dante once described this beach as the most beautiful place he’d ever seen, and now it would be the last place she’d ever see. That would have to be enough.
All she’d asked in return for years of her life, her family, her name, was to not be alone when the monsters came. To face death on that cliff with a partner by her side.
If she’d died, she’d have died a hero.
If she’d suffered, at least she wouldn’t have suffered alone.
That was the deal. That was the promise.
Lies. All of it.
The gods had given their verdict.
Either humans were a loose thread to be snipped, or humanity wasn’t the problem, she was. Either way, she had no choice.
Her heart was still beating, but she was death. Not created by Dea, to save. But by Crollo, to usher in the end.
She couldn’t connect. Couldn’t save Saverio.
Would she be welcomed to the heavens for trying, or had her soul blackened the day her hands became weapons?