I scanned the soil, then the surrounding land. What could possibly be here that was the object of my heart’s greatest desire?
Then it hit me.
And it broke me.
My father.
My family, together again.
My home—the safe, joy-filled bubble of my childhood.
The one thing I desired most was the one thing I could never, ever have again.
A dam gave way, and weeks of pent-up sorrow unleashed on my body. All the heartbreak I had been clutching tight and fighting to restrain, the life and loves I’d lost forever—all of it tore from my soul with a gut-wrenching sob.
I crumpled to the ground as surely as if the burden I carried took physical form. I cried for myself, and all that I had lost, but mostly I cried for everyone who had, or would soon, suffer for my failure.
For my family and my Corbois friends, whose lives I’d put in danger. For the half-mortal children, who had lost their savior because of his loyalty to me. For all the mortal families who would be torn apart when the Twenty Houses got their way.
I cried for every person who had prayed for a spark of hope in this dreary, oppressive world, and the endless dark they’d found in return.
I cried until the setting sun and the rising moon passed like wind-blown ships, and when my tears had again run dry, I took a wobbling breath and pulled myself to my knees.
“I’m so sorry, Father,” I said in a trembling, broken voice.
I looked at the soil, wincing at the memory of the cold stiffness of my father’s body as I clutched him in my arms.
“I don’t think I’m strong enough to do this. Everyone is counting on me, and I’m going to fail them, just like I failed you.”
I leaned forward and dug my fingers into the damp earth, wishing I could bury myself deep and sleep for a thousand years.
“The darkness is closing in,” I whispered, “and I don’t have the strength to find the light.”
“Then make your own.”
The voice startled me upright. I twisted around to see my brother standing behind me, hands shoved into his pockets. Across the clearing, Alixe and a very angry-looking Taran stood guard at the forest’s edge.
“You’ve got all that fancy Descended magic,” Teller said. “Maybe it’s time to stop looking for the light and start making it yourself.”
I shook my head sadly. “I don’t know how. And every time I try, I end up making things worse.”
“Then keep trying. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, pick yourself back up, and try again. And don’t stop until you figure it out. That’s what the Diem Bellator I know would do.”
He sat down beside me and leaned back on his hands, and together we stared at the site of our childhood home and the ashes of everything we once loved. I could almost hear the echo of our laughter as we cooked and cleaned, played and sparred, the sounds taunting me as much as they comforted me.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Teller said. “With all the battles he fought, everything he survived… it always seemed like he would find a way to evade death somehow.”
I nodded, too battered to find words.
“Do you think he can see us?” he asked. “Do you think wherever he is, he’s still watching us?”
My chin sank low. “I hope not.”
Teller let out a long sigh and moved closer, pulling me into his side. “You stopped fighting, D. You gave up.”
I tried to yank away, but he held me firm. “How can you say that?” I shot back. “All I’ve been doing for weeks is fighting.”
“You’ve certainly been swinging your fists around everywhere you go, but you haven’t been fighting. You’re going through the motions and biding your time until someone takes pity on you and strikes a killing blow. You’ve lost that spirit that makes you… you.”
He wrapped me tighter and squeezed my shoulder until I brought my eyes to his.
“What was Father’s most important lesson?” he prodded. “The one he reminded us of every time we sparred?”
“Survive,” I said hoarsely.
Teller nodded as he recited our father’s teachings. “Survive. At whatever cost, to whatever end. Survive first—”
“—mind the consequences later,” I finished.
I looked ahead at the scorched soil, remembering the last time my father and I sparred together and the words he left me with.
I cannot tell you what to do with your life, my darling Diem. But whatever you choose—be smart. And above all, survive. Your life is far too precious to me to be wasted.
“I’m scared, Teller,” I confessed, my voice finding a small measure of strength at finally admitting the truth. “I’m so fucking scared.”
“I am, too. The thought of losing you…” Teller’s voice wavered, and I leaned against his shoulder.
“Do you think Father ever felt like this before his battles?” I asked. “Do you think he ever ran away and cried in a big pile of dirt?”
Teller smirked. “He did worse than that. At the funeral, one of his friends told me he got so sick before his first battle he threw up all over his new combat uniform. His battalion made him roll around in the mud to cover up the smell.”
A real laugh burst out of me, catching me by surprise. “If he’d ever told me that story, I would have teased him about it for weeks.”
“That’s probably why he never told you.” Teller’s smile softened as his expression turned thoughtful. “I once asked him what was the worst battle he ever fought. He said it was his first one as a commander—not because of how it ended, but because it was the first time all the lives on the battlefield were his responsibility. He felt like every death fell on his shoulders.”
“That’s how I feel. It’s not dying I fear. It’s everything else—all the people who are counting on me. I’m scared of letting them down.”
“Then fight.”
I nodded resignedly. “I’ll try.”
“No.” Teller clamped a hand to the back of my neck, forcing my face to his. “Fight, D. Fight with that fire I know you have in you. Fight like you’re pissed off they dared to even consider opposing you.” He touched his forehead to mine. “Fight like a gods-damned Bellator.”
Somewhere, in the darkness, a flame flickered to life.
“I’ve seen you spar with men three times your size who have decades of training on you. You’ve taken on entire groups on your own. Luther is the most terrifying person I’ve ever met, and you fight with him like he’s some annoying fly.”
Another laugh bubbled up between sniffles. “I do seem to have a habit of getting myself into fights I’m vastly outmatched for.”
“A habit?” Teller snorted. “You practically survive off it.”
I playfully shoved his side, though my smile faltered. “What if I took it too far this time?”
He frowned pensively. “Did you do it for the right reasons?”
I thought of all the people I was fighting to protect, and the flame in my heart grew a little brighter.
“Yes.”
“Do the people you’re confronting deserve it?”
“Gods, yes.”