Page 165 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“Consequences be damned.” There are no consequences. I’ve seen how this plays out—we win, game over.

“That’s not exactly your best strategy.” He balances the sword on his knees.

“Happens to be my favorite.” I smile.

“I know.”

“I saw us kill this thing.” I meet his eyes. “No surrender.”

“Why do you even want to do this, Luc?” I turn away without meaning to. “Just because you had a vision doesn’t mean you have to follow through.” Don’t say it. “Your choices become your fate, you know that. I kind of worry about what you’re choosing lately.”

Lately meaning since I found out about the unions. I may be acting recklessly, but I don’t lack self-awareness. I see the path I’m going down. When your life isn’t your own, you’ll do anything to hang on to that last bit of control you have.

At least I will.

“It’s about taking some agency,” I say. All I’ve gotten this year is nothing.

I found out about a weapon, only to not be able to do anything with it. Yet. I fell for a girl, only to discover that she’s involved, in some way, with my sister’s attack and possibly the greatest evil in Elysia.

Perhaps killing would at least be something.

“Let the consequences be damned, because there won’t be any,” I go on. “We’ll kill it, and then you and Wendy can talk about your shared experience.”

Azaire ducks his head. “She said she didn’t want me involved. That’s what made me feel incapable. I don’t think she thinks I could do what she did yesterday.”

“Then show her you can.” I begin sharpening my blade, and I pause. “I want to get into its subconscious,” I tell him. “Find out why they’re here and attacking.”

“I see,” he says. I think about telling him it’s my battle, that he doesn’t need to join. But he does. The vision showed that one was killed by his snakes. If he’s not there, I don’t know what will happen.

I hand him the merai knife, by the hilt. “No surrender?”

At first the short, thick knife looks awkward in his hands, but he fixes his grip and he looks every bit the fighter I saw in my vision. In a way, though, it looks wrong. He’s not a fighter, and for a fraction of a second, I begin to doubt my nature as a Lucent.

“No surrender,” Azaire says, shaking my doubt.

I finish sharpening the blade of my heifa while Azaire hones his, then we venture into the vacant academy hallways. Every light has been turned off, making the crescent moon, stars, and glowing apala trees the only offering of light.

“I don’t think there’s anything in here,” Azaire says cautiously after making it to the west wing.

“I can feel it.” That of burning, starkly different from Desdemona. While she felt like the warmth of the sun’s rays, this feels like the smoldering of a soul.

The burning grows, and I know we’re getting close.

Finally approaching the fatta scorpion, I see that it is much uglier than the depictions we’ve been shown in class. Its long, soul-ceasing stinger hovers a foot above its already humongous stature.

Its six legs click against the floor as it walks slowly toward us. Azaire turns to me and I nod. Shadows wrap around the fatta’s stinger and it shrieks, standing up on its back four legs. I swing at its claw, the clink sounding like I’ve just hit full metal armor, and its heat pours down my blade. It burns the hilt and with it my hands, and I fight to hold onto my sword while I cover it in shadows.

The claw comes against my arm, burning me on impact and sending me harshly against the marble wall. I fall to the floor while my head spins. Azaire runs for the fatta and jumps higher than anyone other than a Nepenthe ever could. I restrain the venomous stinger, then the claws. The fatta writhes against the chill of my power.

Now on its back, Azaire strikes against the top of its head and the fatta jerks up, sending Azaire to the floor across the room from me. The creature stalks toward him, its stinger pushing past my shadows. The backs of my eyes burn with the cold as I work to wrap the fatta’s body further. I feel the lack of energy in my chest as the fatta works to break free of my hold, though I’m clearly already immobilizing it.

I get to my feet, dragging my heifa sword across the floor. The fatta turns from Azaire, slowly, and I swing again as a distraction.

Then I push into its mind. At first it’s hard to breathe, feeling as if I’ve swallowed a burning ember. The further I push, the less it burns and the more I ache.

Come on.

Its stinger comes for me, ready to stab me, to steal my soul.

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