Page 122 of Alchemised

Lumithia hung overhead, bright as a white sun in the black abyss.

Helena’s eyes throbbed just looking up at her. The Ascendance always put everything on edge, but Helena was already on edge. Ascendance had shoved her right over.

She closed her eyes and she was drowning again, nails dragging welts across her skin.

Kaine.

Kaine would know what was wrong. He’d understand. He used necromancy; he must know how to deal with this.

Without pausing to think, she headed for the Outpost. The destination was deliriously urgent. Curfew would be soon. She had to get through the checkpoints.

The streets of the city were like silver ribbons gleaming under full Ascendance, the shadows like teeth.

Just a little farther, she kept telling herself with every step. Until she was across the bridge, the river high and roaring beneath her, the tenement looming in front of her.

It was only when she reached the steps that she stopped to think.

She’d promised Kaine she would never come to the Outpost unless there was a Resistance emergency. He was a spy. It was dangerous for him. She’d given her word.

She’d risk his cover—endanger him.

She turned away.

Without a destination, her focus fractured.

Soren. Helena. Soren.

She felt her jaw give way, cold air and blood as her oesophagus tore open. Fingers gouging into her eye sockets. Water closing over her head. She was drowning but couldn’t die, so she just kept drowning.

When her consciousness found her again, she was lying on the ground. The black sky, dark as ink, loomed overhead as Lumithia bore down, a scorching cold in Helena’s resonance.

“Marino, what have you done to yourself?”

She was barely conscious of being lifted off the ground. Hot hands touching her face and forehead, driving away the drowning cold. She burrowed into the heat.

She was delirious. Truly delirious now, because Kaine was there with a giant winged dog standing behind him.

She’d never had a hallucination before, but all things considered, it was oddly pleasant. Kaine was like a furnace, and when she buried herself in his arms, face pressed against his chest, she could scarcely feel the cold dead fingers anymore.

“Soren Bayard died and I—I brought him back, but the other necrothralls tore him to pieces. I can’t stop remembering how it felt. I think he took part of me with him. How do you do it again and again without going insane? Is it like this forever?”

One of his hands tilted her head back so she could see his eyes. In the moonlight, the grey glowed almost as bright as Lumithia, his hair gleaming that same colour.

“Had you ever used necromancy before?”

She shook her head.

“I don’t suppose anyone told you how to do it, did they?” He exhaled, the back of his fingers pressing against her forehead. “You had the shit luck of knowing him, too. You’re going into shock.”

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from her. Of course no one had told her how to perform necromancy.

He shushed her, pulling her back against his chest, warding off the way her skin crawled with the memory of decaying fingers burrowing into it. “You tried to bring him back, didn’t you? Idiot. You’re freezing cold.”

She didn’t struggle as he half carried her towards his giant dog.

On closer inspection, it wasn’t a dog, but a wolf with bright-yellow eyes, and it was the size of a warhorse, with wings the size of—

She didn’t know of anything on earth with wings that large.

Kaine pushed her up and set her on a saddle cinched behind the wings, and then swung atop behind her.

Helena’s eyes fluttered shut as she sagged against him, tensing at the sensation of icy-cold fingers tearing open her skin.

The creature hunched down, muscles rippling beneath thick fur.

There was a lurch, then a sickening jerk that nearly threw Helena off.

Without warning, they were airborne.

Wind stung across her face, and her eyes rolled back. She was barely conscious of anything except Kaine behind her and the cold wind screaming in her ears.

Then she was sliding down, her legs giving out, and Kaine caught her before she hit the ground. They were standing somewhere so high up, the night so bright, that she could see beyond the mountains. She’d never been so high.

She looked around. She was on a balcony and alone with Kaine. For the first time in years, she felt a sense of distance from it all, looking down onto the East Island, cratered by years of war, cast in moonlight.

The air was thin, as if she were back in the mountains, the world dreamily still.

She held out a hand, letting the silver coat her skin.

“Do you think this is what my subconscious thinks I want?” she asked, peering towards the light of the Alchemy Tower’s beacon gleaming like a small golden sun. “To run away from the war with you?”

Kaine’s expression was unreadable as he pulled her back from the railing. There was a dark doorway, and he led her through it and into a hallway. After the silver brightness of the city, her eyes struggled to adjust.

“What do you want?” he asked.

His voice seemed to come from the darkness.

Her eyes burned and she reached, feeling the wall under her fingertips.

“I don’t want to always be alone,” she said.

It was easier to be honest in the dark. “I want to love someone without feeling like if they know, it’ll end up hurting them.

People who love me always die. No matter what I do, it’s never enough to save them.

I have to love everyone from a distance, and I’m so lonely. ”

Her eyes blurred, and then the darkness fell away, revealing a large room with a roaring fire. The place was lavish. The Holdfasts’ city residence had once been like this, filled with gilded furniture that glittered in the firelight.

It was elegant but impersonal. There wasn’t anything to make the place feel lived-in.

She looked back; Kaine was standing behind her. His black clothes were limned by the glowing firelight, adding a flush of gold and ember red to his almost monochrome appearance. He still had that otherworldly glow about him.

“You don’t have to be alone,” he said.

She looked down, wanting to fall headlong into the fantasy of believing that; to feel good for a little while, and tell herself it would do no harm.

But she knew that was a lie. Her mind was never quiet enough to let her enjoy anything without thinking about its consequences.

“Why? Because of you?” she asked bitterly, going towards the fire instead, sinking onto her knees in front of it. She couldn’t think she was drowning here. She shook her head. “I don’t get to care about you.”

Her chest clenched, fingers curling into fists. “If I care about you—I won’t be able to use you. And you’re the only hope I have of keeping everyone else alive.”

She curled in on herself, staring at the dancing flames. Somewhere on the Outpost, she was lying on the ground, going into shock, possibly freezing to death.

“Then use me,” Kaine said. He was right next to her. He pulled her close and tried to kiss her.

She jerked away. “No! No, I can’t.” She shook her head. Wake up, Helena. “I don’t want to do that to you. You don’t—deserve that. I can take care of myself.”

He wouldn’t let go.

“You don’t have to push me away to protect me,” he said in a hard, familiar voice. “I can take it. You can stop being lonely. I won’t misunderstand. I know you just want someone to be with.”

She looked for a door. An escape.

He didn’t let go. “Helena …”

She stilled at her name.

“I’m alone, too,” he said.

A lump rose in her throat, her heart pounding. “But I don’t want to hurt you, you don’t deserve—”

He kissed her, swallowing her objections.

She didn’t struggle when he pulled her into his arms. The heat of the fire faded until there was only the heat of him, his lips warm against hers, his hands cradling her face.

Then there was the softness of a bed beneath her back, pillows and sheets, and she pulled him closer, fingers seeking the buttons on his coat and unfastening them, but he caught her hands in his, holding them captive against his chest, and drew back. He tilted her face into the light.

She stared dazedly at him as he pressed the back of his hand against her forehead and tucked her in as if she were sick and needed nursing.

When she tried to sit up, he sat down next to her and let her huddle close, face buried against his chest.

“Necromancy doesn’t—bring someone back …

” he said, “but that can be hard to remember in the moment. When it’s someone you know, when you can feel the span of their loss, it’s instinctive to think it costs that much to bring them back.

What you did with Bayard was put a part of yourself into reanimating him.

In other circumstances, you could have reversed it, untethered yourself, but he took all of it with him when he was destroyed. ”

There was a pause.

“You’ll recover, but it’ll leave a scar. You just have to stay grounded until your mind learns not to go there. Lucky for you, animancy should help with that.”

“Did this ever happen to you?”

He was silent for a minute. “Something similar once, but it was a long time ago.”

Helena curled closer to him, listening to his heartbeat.

He was alive. She had kept him alive. She found his hand, pulling it up near her chin, holding it in both of hers, tracing the ridges of his knuckles, lacing her fingers along them. Just holding on.

She lifted her head to look at him.

He didn’t move, not even when she let go of his hand to reach up and touch his face.

Or when she shifted near enough to brush her lips against his cheek.

Her fingers traced across his cheekbones, and she kissed his temple and his forehead.

Then, hesitantly, she pulled him closer and kissed him on the mouth.

He was fire to touch.

She kissed him slowly until his arms slid around her back and he returned it.

She didn’t know if what she was doing was holding on or letting go.