Page 109 of Fallen Thorns
“Mars,” I gulped down.
They collapsed backwards; head lolling forward, only just managing to catch themself from full fall with weary arms. They landed into my chest, panting for a full breath. I’d taken too much.
“Mars,” I said again, this time in worry. I leaned forward to hold them steady, feeling the back of my head tighten as it healed itself.I took so much.
“Arlo.” They fell into my grip, letting me hold them up as their head fell backwards. They forced out a smile through chapped lips, eyes weary. “I… I was right.”
“Yes,” I said, pulling them close to my forehead. “You were right, and you saved me, Mars. You always save me.”
Their smile turned into a laugh, but one of relief and disbelief. A laugh of masked pain. Coughing, they leaned forward again and forced our brows to touch. I didn’t pull back. Instead, I allowed us to sit there for a moment with my hand wound through their hair. “You did it.” I smiled.I’m free. Mars, how can I ever repay you?
“I did it,” they sighed, voice hoarse and faded.
We shared the same breath for what felt like a lifetime.
“Can you stand?” I asked once I became aware of how exposed we were. The blood surrounding us, on the back of my head, down my front. I moved to retrieve Mars’ discarded coat from down the trail of leaves and branches, and I helped them cover up. I made sure their arm was healing itself enough to stem the blood flow.
I aided them in bending their arms through the sleeves and let them rest their head on my shoulder as they did so. I helped them up slowly, holding their arms with delicate care. Even standing for me, despite being full of my new free strength, made me give in to a brief dizzy spell.
“Arlo,” was all they said again, still resting against me for support.
“Yes?”
Our eyes met once more.
“Let’s go and save Ben.”
ChapterTwenty-Six
Michael
Ifeel the shift as he pulls away, we both do. The Star, gone. I don’t know how he managed it. I was elated to finally reunite us all, and I do not doubt that I still will, but this was… unexpected.
I sit at the foot of my Moon, resting my head over my overlapped hands, with my wings trailing across the stones of the cathedral. He sits forlorn atop his chair, idly fumbling with a ring in his hand, his mind distant. He has not spoken in a while, instead his eyes wander around the room, and I watch them, trying to read their signals. He is growing restless, for he still has not met the body of our final source. But I have reassured him he will get his wishes, that I will grant them when I can. So that we can all achieve our greatest desires.
“Why the delay?” he asks, eyes refusing to meet mine.
I adjust myself against his robed leg. “Minor inconveniences, that is all.”
That minor inconvenience being Lucy; her plans greatly interfering with ours. If it had not been for her, we would be well on our way to having everything.
She’s fuelled by pure rage, something I know all too well. But where I see a way out, she cannot. Another trait I am above. She believes the only way to find peace is to seek vengeance, no matter how bloody. But revenge only opens up a jar of worms and leaves chaos in its wake. Maybe that is what she wants; after all, she has lived long enough to see beyond human comprehension. Beyond morals and ethics. She’s driven — I will give her that — but unfocused. Why didn’t I just end her when I had the chance?
“Will you be ready?” I ask him, fingers curling to trace the hem of his amber garments. “For the end of old time?”
He shrugs, looking off into the distance. He believes himself to be past that, too great for such petty work.
“Oh, but my dear Moon, this will be fun. Don’t you want to witness it? Watch it all unfold. For old times' sake?”
His head snaps down at me and I halt my hands under his gaze. “I do wish you would stop calling me that. You know we coexist. I am no more your Moon than I am myself.”
“You are right. I am sorry if I overstepped.”
He gets like that sometimes, when he lets his mind wander and lets his old self back in. Nothing I can’t quickly rectify though; it does not worry me. I play into it, let him believe what he wants.
“You should know by now. Neither of us want to be stuck here,” he says.
“I know, I know. I am sorry, Jerome.”
