Page 16 of War Hour

Kill the fear to free the innocent.

The words echo in my head.

Laying down my weapons steadily, I eye the Kadara, trying not to make any sudden movements. Its lip curls as it bares its teeth at me, but the second the blades leave my hands it stops. It stares back at me, no longer growling or signaling an attack. I take one step forward, and the Kadara’s ears angle toward me. It blinks slowly as it watches me, mirroring my stillness, save for the breath moving through both of us.

Another step and the next, all without reaction from the Kadara.

A crack of confidence breaks through the fear, and I smile to myself. Standing a few feet from the creature, I eye its collar. The golden chain hung from it would be difficult to break, but at the base of its neck was a buckle. It would allow for the metal ring to be opened. Maybe I could do it, but getting it off without touching the Kadara’s fur would be another miracle.

Would it even satisfy the riddle’s requirements? A part of me doubts it, but what is the worst that could happen—I fail the Trial? I came in here expecting to.

Holding my hands up, palms facing out, I close the distance. Slipping closer, the tip of my fingers brush the collar’s cold metal. When the Kadara shifts, I flinch back, waiting for it to still once again.

Moving inch by inch, I slip my fingers just under the buckle. Nerves and fear thrum through my body. If it even rubbed against me by a hair, who knows how it could impact me.

Wincing, I pull the collar away from its fur to unlatch it. Spikes protrude from the ring, piercing the Kadara’s neck, crusted blood covering the metal points.

The creature rips away from me, growling in pain. Instinctively, I grab onto the fleeing animal, trying to prevent it from hurting itself or—worse—me. Looping my arm around its neck as it bucks in agony, I try to finish taking off the collar.

My skin tingles where I touch the Kadara’s coat, like when you hold snow and have to fight the urge to drop it to soothe the pins and needles it causes.

My head flings backward, eyes wide, as flashes of panic and fear flood my system, as pictures of my past fill my vision. I try to shut out the onset of images, but without letting go, the rush doesn’t yield. Reality and nightmares merging. The overwhelming sadness and trepidation filter through my touch with the Kadara.

A nightmare of my younger self walking through an empty Falland. Buildings smoking and crumbling around me, the entire city having escaped—leaving me here.

Alone.

Hot tears pour down my face, filling my eyes and blurring my vision.

A flashback of when I’d raced through the streets, feet bleeding from running across broken glass. I’d been hiding from some older kids and ended up concealing myself in a dumpster of rotten food. I’d stayed hunkered among the trash for hours until I could no longer hear them shouting my name.

A wet, metallic taste fills my mouth. I’ve bitten my lip.

The Kadara lunges, trying to move away from my hand still fitted under its collar. As it leaps, I end up strewn across its back, my legs hanging as the creature uses its wings to barrel upward.

As more of my skin presses to her, the faster the images flicker through my mind. Tears, fights, and bruises, ones dredged up from a long time ago.

It gets harder to tell what is real as the Kadara fades to the background, and I question if it’s all happening again.

At first, I think it’s a memory. An image of Cenna walking toward the grand hall after volunteering for Trialing, but it’s warped from what actually happened.

Steps from the door, Cenna turns with a malicious smirk I had never seen. “Really, Lysta?” the figure of my sister asked. “I’d rather risk death than suffer through another day with you leeching off me.”

Words my sister had never said but that I’d feared following her departure.

I choke and hiccup between sobs, unable to shy away from the painful images.

Soaring in a circle above the pit, I squeeze the Kadara’s body with my thighs, trying to free my hands from holding on so I can focus on the collar. I grit my teeth, eyebrows mashing together as I try to combat the voices haunting me. Once again, I pull on the buckle, begging it to release. It’s almost impossible to see through the tears filling my vision.

Growls of anguish rip from the creature’s throat as the points shift into its neck. Fresh blood pooling where the holes have reopened. The Kadara spins mid-flight, trying to fling me from its back. My legs wrap around its torso, desperately holding on.

My heart races, not fearing beyond the images in my head but the drop many feet below.

The Kadara turns its head, sinking its teeth into my arm. A scream bursts from my lips just as the clasp breaks off, and the tension holding the collar releases. I feel its jaw unclench.

The Kadara freezes beneath me, as if I’ve flipped a switch. Gently, it lowers to the ground. After lying across its back, I slowly sit up and reach for the collar. Each ragged breath the animal takes in rumbles under me. Taking a firm grip of the metal, I inch it toward me, and when I pull the spikes from the Kadara’s skin, I wince sympathetically.

Once it is free, I toss the collar aside, the chain rattling as it skids across the floor.

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