Page 47 of Burning Heir

For the first time in a week, I felt peace as Klaus lay beside me. He looked too young to be here, too innocent to have lived through these trials. I knew he was my age, but in that moment, I felt like a child again. Starved—not just for air, but for time.

I deserved to live. Klaus deserved it more.

I wondered about the ghosts of the academy. Did they stay here, stranded in the depths? Did they believe they had won the Serpent title?

Klaus pointed again to the surface, tracing shapes in the algae and seaweed with his finger, showing me how the light shone through. I wished for his eyes, that ability to see beauty in chaos. That half-grin had me wondering if I had only joined the academy to see it again… even if it wasn’t real.

Maybe I’d lose my mind to stay here. Grow gills and fins, just to see him for a moment more. I’d climb mountains to chase that strayed mind—fighting for a second to count his freckles worthy of a galaxy.

“Find my name, Severyn. Find it within flesh and bone, where a heart beats beside it.”

He squeezed my hand, but nothing but the current slipped through my fingers, a stark reminder that Klaus was gone and my mind was playing tricks on me.

Perhaps I was mad.

Another Blanche failure. I could hear the town gossip—the months of silence at the dinner table as Mother lit two candles before each meal, silently sobbing. Cully was destroyed, while Father stared at the serpent crown in his office, wondering where he went wrong. His body slowly giving up, wards broken, the cries of snow beasts breaching through. His golden ring lost in the shallows of the academy forever. Charles married, making Father proud, producing an heir for the Serpent title. No one would mention me again. No one would dare dwell on the failures.

Klaus turned to me once more. “It’s time to breathe.”

I parted my lips, feeling not water, but cool air and softness. It rushed through my lungs, expanding my ribs. I opened my eyes to see Archer staring at me, water beads dripping from his hair. He pressed his lips to mine again, and another wave of air filled my lungs.

I shoved him off. “Did you just kiss me?” I spat salted water, my eyes burning as more liquid poured from my mouth.

“No,” he said, choking on the words. “I saved your damn life. You weren’t breathing.” He wiped his chin, his drenched tunic clinging to his chest, showing every rippled muscle.

In his hand, a similarly shaped key that Knox had held glinted, rusted from the past trials. And seven others lay scattered by his feet, each shaped differently.

The screams started all at once, drowning out everything else.

Realization sunk in. My life cost seven students’ lives. Rage filled my blood. Tears fell from my eyes with every blink.

“How could you?” I hissed so loudly that I didn’t care if others heard.

“How could I save you? You’re welcome.” I heard his words, but he didn’t speak them out loud. My mind whirled as he repeated, “Your breaths are owed to me. I won’t have your death on my hands.”

Where was Myla? Damien was beside Malachi, who was coughing up seawater. Everett leaned against Knox, the life coming back into his flushed cheeks.

My heart began to pound. Crying out Myla’s name, I staggered through the students. “What kind of trial is this? This is…” the words wouldn’t form. I couldn’t breathe until I saw Myla.

I held the frosted dagger to my chest, yelling back at Archer, “You should have let me die. Now Myla’s key is probably in your pile. Why was my life worth more than theirs?” I stared at each key one by one as if I heard their names echo silently.

Archer gazed blankly at me before walking away. He doesn’t care. His reputation means everything, and it is worth more than seven lives. I clutched my gut, leaned over, and threw up more seawater.

Bridger grunted from the shore. “…I found the fifth body. Her name is Myla,” he said to a Valscribe journalist. “Cause of death: drowning.” The journalist jotted in a notebook, continuing on as more students emerged from the water.

He carried a dark-skinned girl in his arms. She was lifeless. Her lips were blue-hued, parted as water dripped from her lungs.A severed chain dangled from her ankle, the lock untouched. Her chest hadn’t moved in those daring leaps I made toward her, pressing my hands against her ashen cheeks.

Myla. Not Myla.

Bridger shoved me off. “She’s dead,” he said causally. “Myla Reinhart is dead.”

My knees buckled. “No… save her. She can’t die!”

“Severyn, go back to your corridors. The trial has ended.” He closed his eyes. “People die here. Get over it.”

I crashed to the ground. Grief was raw, a blistered welt on my heart that never seemed to heal. And Klaus’s wound had reopened. Myla. Not Myla.

Damien ran to my side. Only his ankles were wet. “Severyn, are you okay?”

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