Page 95 of Spoils of war
Past the flames. Past the screaming. Past the villagers already crying out for water and gods and mercy. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. The forest loomed behind the inn, its treeline curled like fingers, waiting to pull me under. I wanted to vanish. I wanted the world to forget I ever existed. I didn’t know where I was going, I just needed to be nowhere.
Far from the fire. Far from them. Far fromme.
I ran from the way Will looked at me.
From the monster I didn’t remember becoming.
Eventually, my legs gave out and I crumbled at the base of a tree. I curled in on myself, arms wrapped tight around my knees, and I cried. Not soft tears. Not quiet, pretty tears. The kind of sobs that rose from the pit of your stomach and scraped your throat raw. I could still feel the fire inside me, and I was sure I’d end up burning the entire forest down. I was danger. Will did right to back away from me. Any normal person would have.
It was still inside me. I could feel it coiled beneath my skin. In my ribs. In my teeth. Begging to be let out again. I had healed Aran. I saved his life. That should’ve meant something. But it didn’t, because I was also the one who burned him.
I don’t know how long I sat there alone with my thoughts. Long enough for the adrenaline to drain and leave me hollow. Long enough for the wind to settle in my bones. I’d heard Will calling my name, but I didn’t answer. I didn’t want him to find me. I didn’t want to see that fear in his eyes again.
It hurt too much.
Then a crack split the stillness. Footsteps. Careful and slow.
Like a hunter, sneaking up on its prey. It wasn’t Will, the silhouette was taller, shoulders broader.
Aran.
He stepped into the moonlight, his face carved in pale silver and shadow.
“What are you doing here?” I rasped. “I’ll only hurt you again.”
“I don’t know,” he muttered. The anger was gone.
He edged closer.
I scrambled back. “No,” I snapped. “Stay away.”
He ignored me. Instead, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it up.
My breath caught.
His skin was perfect. No burns. No scarring. Nothing. He should’ve been writhing in pain, he should’ve been blistered and raw. But there wasn’t a mark.
“How is this real?” he blurted. “How the fuck is this real, Kera?”
“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head so hard my vision blurred. “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
I scrubbed my tears away with the back of my hand, smearing dirt across my cheeks. “How did you even find me? Why did you come?”
“Because I can’t explain this!” he yelled, flinging his arms out. “You burned me. And then I woke up and there’s nothing. How?!”
“I don’t know. I had a nightmare and—”
“That’s all you’ve got?” he bellowed, stepping forward. “You almost kill me, then heal me, and you don’t even know how? Are you cursed or something?” His guess was as good as mine. Maybe I was cursed.
“You and Will just ran off without explaining a thing!” he shouted.
“Should we have brought you?” I shot back, glaring at him. “We’re not friends.”
He opened his mouth, but the voice that answered wasn’t his.
“No. We’re not.”
Will stormed into the clearing, his voice sharp as glass.
