Page 17 of Unbroken

“What do you mean?” Micah asks as she takes a step closer, sliding out from underneath Lyrik’s arms. Lyrik follows her, stopping her just shy of the platform and I follow too, like a moth drawn to a flame.

“It means, daughter of mine, that your father hasn’t passed over, his—"

“Wait, they are not trying to bring him back, are they?” Marcus asks, his voice panicked as he steps up beside me.

“No, even my brothers wouldn’t be that cruel. Though if it was within their power to bring him back, he would never be whole again. Unequivocally changed and not for the better. Kalob’s spirit is still here, and he wants to talk to both of you, that is all, and then he will pass on,” I reply, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder for comfort.

Micah turns to me in shock, eyes wide and brimming with tears. “He’s still here?” she asks with a shaky voice. She looks so lost, all I want to do is gather her in my arms and take her away from this room, but I can’t.

“For as long as Ty and Trys hold the magic together, his spirit will remain. You get to tell him goodbye and speak to him one last time,” I reply as my heart breaks for her. Tears fall down her cheeks, and it’s too much to bear. I take her hand in mine, lacing our fingers together and she lets me, then she begins to break.

It might not be much in this moment, but for me, it’s enough. I’ll stand by her and be her pilar for as long as she will let me.

ChapterTen

MICAH

I’m sobbing and I don’t care. I’ve saved up all my tears for this moment. I’m allowing myself to fall apart today and today only. Tomorrow, I will pick myself up and face whatever the future holds for me. For us. The prospect of speaking to my father—for the twins to give us this chance—has shattered my resolve. I didn’t know how much I needed to say goodbye until now. I have so many regrets, things I would have done and said differently the last time we saw each other. If I had known. . .

“Micah.” My father’s voice is a hoarse whisper as he hovers over his body. His smile is warm as he materializes in front of me. He appears holographic, transparent, yet whole. I’ve never seen a ghost before, but I imagine this an upgrade. He’s here but not.

“Dad,” Marcus calls out. His voice breaks as he slowly moves in front of Rodyn, who hasn’t let go of my hand since he took it moments ago. The grip I have on him is unrelenting, he is grounding me, and I hope he feels it. I don’t want to push him away. Life is too fleeting to hold onto the bad blood between us. I can’t forget how he held me. . .the pain in his eyes, the plea in his voice when he thought he was going to lose me. It meant something.

“Marcus,” Dad says, his head turns slowly, his movements unsteady as he reaches out his hand and strokes my brother’s face and then his arms. Transparent fingers skate over Marcus’s skin and my brother sucks in a sharp inhalation of surprise.

“I can feel you.” Marcus reaches up but our father flickers in and out briefly before appearing once more. I glance over to Ty and Trys in concern, there is no outward indication of exertion except for beads of sweat on their brows. I don’t know how long they can hold my father here between the two of them. They are both strong Necromancers but from what they’ve told me of their past, they took souls, even destroyed them. So maybe holding my father here instead of allowing him to pass on takes more control than they are used to exerting. Taking my eyes off them, I focus on my father and his eyes meet mine again.

“You saved him. I knew you could. I knew you would.” He sighs, and his face falls. My throat constricts as I try to hold back more tears.

“But. . .I couldn’t save you,” there, I said it. The one thing that my soul has been holding on to since the moment I heard him take his last breath over the phone. I couldn’t help him. He was lost to me forever. “I’m so, so sorry, Dad.” I break, sobbing into my free hand, wiping away tears as I try to stay on my feet. The weight of his loss, pressing down on my chest makes it hard to breathe, to stand.

“There was nothing you could do.” He strokes my face then turns to Marcus, who looks just as destroyed as I do. “Neither of you could. I can rest knowing that you are both safe and together. But your work is not done,” he says solemnly. He offers us a small smile and continues, “You have to free them all. Jesi was not in control. I don’t blame her for what happened to me, and neither can you. The Light Guardians, Micah, liberate them from Michael’s hold on them. Your mother—"

I shake my hand fervently, cutting him off. “I can’t. How can I save her after what she did? How?” I look up to find Bishop staring back at me, then he turns his head away at my words, his jaw clenching in anger. I know he wants to cut in, but he keeps quiet. After his confession moments ago, I realize he loved her, he still loves my mother. He will want to save her from Michael, and it is not my place to tell him otherwise. If he wants her, he can have her.

“Micah.” My father voice is soft and filled with compassion. “Don’t forget that she is a victim too. She hid you for a reason, she tried to protect you from him. She fought hard to become the Headmistress, to control what was happening at Caelum so they could continue to pass you over. She didn’t want you on their radar, Michael’s radar. Although now I know he already knew you existed. You can’t let Michael continue to hurt her. She is your mother, give her a chance to explain, to talk. . .to talk. . .to you,” he says, flickering out again making, me reach out to him.

“Dad!” I cry out, wanting him to stay with us. The fading in and out stops and he looks at Marcus.

“You are not broken. The power you had as a Light Guardian did not define who you are, Marcus. You are a powerful Warlock, utilize your magic, the both of you. Fight beside your sister because you are a team. A formidable one.” He turns to me. “I held you back, my one regret, but you have everything you need inside of you to do what must be done. Find it. You are what the world needs, Micah,” he says as his image is flickering violently now, like a strobe light, pulsing rapidly.

“I am so proud of you both. I didn’t say it enough. I love you both.” My father’s fingers ghost over my face as he reaches out to both of us. He smiles and nods his head, as if he is accepting what’s about to happen. I gasp for breath, hyperventilating as he blinks from existence. Gone.

“I love you too, Dad,” I barely get the words out before I crumble to the floor in a heap of tears and pain. Strong arms hold me close, cradling me, offering me words of comfort, his voice strong, deep, gentle. I open my eyes, even though my vision is blurry, I find him looking down at me, lending me his strength.

Rodyn.

* * *

“Let’s go!” I shout at my brother who’s doubled over, chest heaving, his sword dangling from his fingers as he holds up his other hand toward me.

“Mi, we’ve been at this for hours. Usually, I’m all for it but you’re like a machine. I don’t think I can cast, my brain hurts. Let’s just take a break.” He pants, his locs falling into his face as he stands and blows out a breath.

“Do you think Michael will be taking a break? What do you think he is doing right now?” I say as I drop my knives to the floor beside me and summon water to my hands. My power rises as easily as breathing, two growing spherical orbs form above my palms. I let myself marvel at my speed before mentally giving the water direction and send it flying toward my brother so quickly that he doesn’t see it coming until he is drenched from head to toe. If that doesn’t get his attention, I don’t know what will.

He roars. “Micah! Shit!” he shouts, flinging water out of his face before dropping to pick up his sword. I watch his every move, the way he hesitates, his fingers flexing over the hilt, the bend of his knees, they’re nothing more than a distraction before he rapidly shoots two big-ass fireballs directly at me.

I laugh in excitement and block them both, throwing up my defensive shield in front of me as the balls collide with the invisible wall and vanish in a puff of smoke. Marcus groans in frustration. Lifting the tip of his sword up, he charges forward. Drawing my dad’s sword from the sheath on my back, I meet him in the middle of the floor.

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