Page 18 of A Simple Truth (the Freckled Fate #2)

17

FINNLEAH

M y ears perked up, listening to the quiet breathing of the Ten, listening to every move and slight huff amidst our dark tent. I had patiently waited for this precise moment for what now felt like an eternity, laying still in my bed until all of them were out.

I cautiously shifted in my cot, slithering off the edge of my bed. My eyes snuck another glimpse, freezing as Zora’s figure rolled to the side, still slumbering. I was fully dressed, now grabbing my boots and my Basalt Glass dagger before darting outside.

I adjusted my hair out of my face, wincing as the bandages on my sore hands moved. I was pretty sure there was nothing left of the pads of my fingers except bone—courtesy of hours spent snapping them, just for a single spark to appear. Snapping past the throbbing pain, past the hunger, past the exhaustion, well into the night, until finally, one little spark appeared between my bloodied hands.

The Ten had watched me closely, concerned I was going mad.

They hadn't had the slightest idea. What I was about to do would definitely put me in that category.

But I was done.

I was so done waiting.

It had been weeks. Weeks that I had wasted, trying to reel in the power within me with absolutely no progress, other than one small spark.

Weeks and hours of precious time I had lost to practicing with no results.

Every. Single. Day.

Yet, I hadn’t been able to get to my source ever since the first time in the field; my body shutting down the moment I got too close.

“Where are you off to?” a Destroyer on guard asked as I passed by. I froze mid step, calming my body to look relaxed.

“Oh, just to the bathroom, I guess my stomach didn’t agree with that dinner.” I chuckled sheepishly, hoping that he wouldn’t notice Heart Piercer in my other hand, as I attempted to hide it behind my back.

“Happens to the best of us.” He smiled kindly.

“Yeah, just don’t tell Troy. I don’t want him to feel bad about his cooking,” I said, taking a few steps away.

“Between you and me, Troy could learn a thing or two about spices.” He scratched his well-groomed beard, before waving at another guard near the campfire. My stomach eased a bit, though I hurried my steps away from the sleeping camp and the small campfires that kept the guarding soldiers warm at night, until I was deep into the surrounding forest. Light snow dusted the frozen ground, and I turned, grimacing at my tracks that left a clear trail behind.

“If only I had the power to melt this snow…” I said out loud, the annoyance in my voice directed at myself.

But no more.

Not after today.

My plan was quite simple.

I would either be dead, or I would conquer whatever was holding me back.

But either way, I would no longer be shackled by this power within me.

I’d lost my freedom too many times to let this continue. To let it dictate my consciousness.

I had made it to a spot I found on one of my bird watching walks with Aurelia. It was far away from the camp, far away from anything or anyone, for that matter, I took off my boots, my bare feet turning red at the feel of the snow against the soles. My body already shaking at my insane idea as cold pierced through my body to my bones as I pulled off my cloak before walking into the freezing, rushing river. The slippery rocks below my numb feet felt like they were made of ice, but I pushed further until the cold water was just above my waist.

“This is a terrible idea,” I whispered to myself as my teeth clattered. But these powers would either obey me or die alongside me. But they would not chain me.

Now half-soaked in freezing waters, my mind panicked, but I reeled in the reins tight. The hilt of the Basalt Glass dagger dug into my hand. If things got out of control, I’d stab myself with it and the ice-cold river would keep the fire at bay until then, keeping the camp safe far away.

It was truly a foolproof plan.

I closed my eyes, starting the familiar descent, soon passing the scratched-up walls and echoing chains, to the slowly darkening spiral staircase; one that I had now memorized the steps to.

The thick, mist-like darkness settled within my mind.

Fifty-one, fifty-two... I counted each step, forcing myself to breathe calmly. The previous week, I couldn’t get past seventy before my mind lost itself. But today, I didn’t have that option. Today, I would pull that round handle once again and I would walk through that cursed door.

Today, tomorrow and forever, I would not yield. I would not be enslaved.

But darkness swallowed me whole.

I gasped for air as I panicked, trying to find the ground underneath my feet, water covering my entire body.

“Damn it.” Anger slithered through me as I stood up, the freezing, night air raging through my soaked hair. If I didn’t drown today, I would surely die from the cold. But I held on to the dagger tighter and closed my eyes again.

And again.

And then again.

Step after step, past the halls, past the well-hidden boxes of memories I never wanted to revisit. Past it all, down the hell-cursed staircase.

Seventy-one… I whispered.

My lungs were filled with water, and I coughed franticly, heaving until I felt like I could breathe again. But I closed my eyes again.

Again.

I didn’t hesitate as I now ran towards the darkness.

I will not yield.

I will not be controlled.

Seventy-two .

My eyes opened as I watched the water above pull me further down the river. I pushed the sheer terror away as I jolted upright, shaking the running water off my face, though not trusting my trembling hand as I tied Heart Piercer to my side.

I realized I could no longer feel my legs—they were numb and frozen.

My body screamed at me, my mind begged me, but I closed my eyes once more.

Again.

And then again.

And again.

Each time, I woke up underwater. Each time, water drowned the air in my lungs. My limbs began to turn blue as the cold worked its way towards my heart, slowing it down to an almost nonexistent beat.

Fucking again. I clenched my teeth and forced my eyes to shut, my mind blocking me, begging me, as waves of thoughts and memories chocked me.

I pushed past it all, running down the stairs, further into the mist of darkness.

The silver streaks of water again appeared in front of my eyes, but this time, I didn’t bother getting up as I felt the air diminish in my lungs.

I was going to die.

It would either be now or never, I told myself, and with a breath, I closed my eyes once more, coming back to the hall of haunted memories.

My mind sounded the alarm. I could feel my entire being swallowed by the greatest terror as my life hung on the brink of death. My lungs became empty, my heart now pausing a beat, the storm of thoughts disappearing completely, but I pushed more and more and more.

Eighty-nine.

I had maybe seconds left of my life, and I would spend it in complete darkness, descending these cursed stairs. But I would rather die than be overruled by whatever these powers were within me.

I ran faster and faster, no longer bothering to count, tumbling down until my body slammed against a hard door.

A door.

The fucking door.

I frantically searched for the handle in the pitch black until my hands felt the round, rusty knob. I pulled with whatever strength I had remaining. A bright blast of white blinded me, but I didn’t let go. I fought as my body was torn apart, agony lacing every single cell within me.

But I held on.

I held on as Justice Fire blazed through me, my skin becoming liquid, dripping like the wax of a burning candle. I grinded my teeth into nothingness, but I managed a step into what seemed to be a fiery ocean. The bright red and copper flames swallowed me whole. Overtaking me. Suffocating me. Burning me.

I was right. This was a terrible plan.

I couldn’t endure this. This was hell.

I couldn’t do it, but it was too late now.

Defeated tears slipped past my eyes, evaporating the moment they touched my charcoaling bones.

This was where I would die. Here. Amidst these never-ending infernos, just like in my nightmares.

I dropped to my knees, no longer able to stand. The raging flames, as if alive, were laughing, mocking me.

You thought you could conquer me? You thought you could conquer the Powers of Hell?

You are not the one to wield me.

I closed my eyes, the fire piercing me straight through my heart. I could no longer see as the flames burst from my eyes and my mouth.

I could no longer speak. I could no longer even remember my name.

But I repeated the only thing I would die remembering.

I was a survivor.

I would not falter. I would not yield, even in my last breath.

I will not be caged.

I will not be enslaved.

I will not be controlled.

I will not be afraid.

Not now. Not ever.

And then, for a flash of a second, I remembered my name. And I remembered who I was.

I was Finnleah, Daughter of the Dead. I was a survivor. I was a warrior.

I had endured this far, and I would endure more. Now and forever.

I would not yield.

With those words, I screamed in agony as I stood up trembling.

I took a step, leaving a trail of melting skin in my wake. But I continued.

I walked into the laughing inferno, step after step, breathing in the fire like a dragon, letting it encompass every cell, every thought within.

“Yield to your master!” I screamed, though no sound was coming out of me. “You will yield to me!” I roared again, though no air was filling my lungs. “Yield!” I shouted, and then I moved my fleshless hands, curling my fingers in a fire-summoning gesture, noticing a small tug of the inferno near me.

“Yield!” I screamed again, but the fire gathered in a flaming tsunami, ready to devour me whole. Still, I didn’t move an inch as it furiously rushed towards me.

Seconds more, and I would disappear, my mind and body forever shattered and destroyed. My fingers trembled as I attempted to move them, only now noticing that my hands were gone, my bones like sand in the wind, crumbling. I pulled the entirety of my slipping consciousness into one action. A simple blink.

Maniacal laughter erupted from me as my vision gradually returned, watching the fire succumb to my demand, to my stare.

Bloody tears poured out of my eyes as I stood there amidst my own personal hell, laughing. A sound so wild, delirious, wicked, and terrifying.

I was Finnleah, Daughter of the Dead.

I was the wielder of Justice.

And I did not yield.