Page 35 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

PROPHECY

I slide down an amber tree. I can feel the bruise already forming around my left eye. A trail of blood is crusted down my arm. My cheek burns. A bone in my hand is definitely broken.

It’s a week into our training, and we’re in the middle of a challenge—a race to the other side of the isle, in teams.

Barely an hour into the race, one of our classmates—a tall Sunling named Ash, with freckled skin, golden hair, and a raving obsession with bloodshed—leaped onto me from one of the trees, knocking me down.

He and two friends pinned me to the dirt.

Enya leaped forward, but I shook my head at her, just as five more of the Sunling group stepped out of the brush.

“Let’s see if he bleeds red like the rest of us,” Ash said, before producing a jagged rock from his pocket. He pressed its edge to my arm and sliced down the length of it. The pain was blinding. Burning. The skin cut instantly.

And, to the fool’s delight, I did bleed red.

Idiot.

He smirked. “I heard royal blood is different, but yours doesn’t look special. Not at all. Guess you’re just like the rest of us.”

He was lucky I was trying to be just like the rest of them , because under normal circumstances, this entire forest would be full of flame. He would be just ash at my feet.

And that’s the problem.

Enya was getting restless. I could feel the heat of her anger, as she studied the group. She was looking for a way to take them down. To free me. But the last thing we needed was to make enemies of a quarter of our training class in the first week.

“Guess I am,” I said, making to stand. Not wanting to cause any trouble.

Ash kicked me back down, his foot pressed into my chest. “Maybe we just need more blood,” he said. He looked at the group around him. “Get more rocks. The sharper, the better,” he snapped.

A few disappeared into the forest. Only three remained.

And that’s when Enya took a rock the size of her head and smashed it over Ash’s skull.

He fell to the ground in a heap, instantly unconscious, blood forming a puddle.

So much for not making enemies.

I stood slowly, staring at Enya, not sure if I wanted to thank her, ask her what the hell she was thinking, or laugh. Before I could open my mouth, one of Ash’s friends was lunging toward Enya, sharp rock in hand.

And that’s when I decided that yes, peace among my class was going to be impossible.

That’s when I broke a nose, cut open a chin, and left a Sunling gasping for air on the ground, before we ran like hell out of that forest.

Now, panting against these trees, Enya whirls to face me. “Why didn’t you defend yourself?”

“I did.”

She rolls her eyes. “You defended me .”

So? I shrug a shoulder. She takes a frustrated step toward me—

And the quiet of the forest is interrupted by a distant yell. Enya curses.

The Sunlings are closing in. By the sounds of their voices, they’ve recruited more of our training class to help them.

I sigh, my head falling back onto the bark. “I don’t think either of us is going to have an easy time making friends after this.”

Enya just raises a brow. “Why would I need more friends? I already have you.”

It makes me smile, and I wince, a cut on my cheek pulling.

The jagged mark down my arm has only just now stopped streaming blood.

I bury the pain. We still have miles to go until we reach the other side of Sun Isle, where Instructor Helas is waiting.

He’s an ancient Sunling, with golden skin, hair shaved close to his scalp, and a near-constant frown.

He won’t give a damn what slowed us down—or that our peers attacked us.

All he cares about is who crosses the finish line before the sand in the enormous hourglass he carries around runs out.

These few seconds resting against this tree will cost us. The path ends here, at this cliff. We’ve already looked over the side. The fall is fifty feet, into a stream.

It could be shallow. There could be rocks. There could be creatures waiting to tear us to shreds.

But this is where the path ends. It’s either take the leap or fail the assignment.

The Sunlings from before are approaching. From their angry yells, I know they’ll be after more than a little blood.

“And I suppose I’ll always have you,” I say, my breathing labored. The voices are getting louder. Closer.

At my words, Enya’s smile withers. She shakes her head. “You won’t always have me.” She looks to the side, eyes narrowing, as if she can see the pack of Sunlings entering the forest.

I’m suddenly not concerned about the group hell-bent on revenge. The truth of her statement hits me, but her words don’t make sense. “What do you mean? Of course I will.”

Her head turns back again. She opens her mouth. Closes it.

“What is it?”

She huffs a laugh. “This isn’t exactly the right moment for an important conversation.”

I stand straight, forgetting my pain. “Is there ever a right moment?”

She lifts a shoulder. “I guess not. And I guess ... I guess there’s something I need to tell you.”

We’ve been best friends for years. The fact that something remains unsaid ... that she hasn’t already told me everything , is confusing.

A yell sounds closer.

And this voice ... this one I recognize. Ash . I should feel relief that Enya didn’t kill him with that hit, but I can’t summon a shred of care for his life.

The forest begins to heat as flames are formed somewhere close by. The idiot and his unpracticed fire are going to burn the whole forest to the ground. “Okay, let’s—”

“I know when I’m going to die.”

Enya says it so matter-of-factly, I think she’s joking.

“Please tell me it’s glorious,” I say, refusing to believe the sweetness I feel in my mouth. She would believe her own imaginings enough to make them true. I look down at the cliff. Maybe we can run the length of it instead of jumping. Maybe there’s another way to the other side.

“It is.”

I laugh. “Of course it must be.” I stride forward, toward the edge, trying to judge the waters from this high.

Enya’s voice deepens with frustration. I hear her steps behind me. “No, I mean I know for certain. I know when I’m going to die, and how.”

Truth.

Absolute, whole truth.

I stop. Turn toward her.

She’s serious. She can’t be serious. I shake my head, brow creasing. “What do you mean? How could you know that?”

She shrugs. “My mom asked me if I wanted to know, and I did. So now ... I do.”

She doesn’t seem concerned at all. I blink. “How does your mom know?”

“The oracle told her. The one on Moon Isle.”

“I thought they were frozen.”

“They are. But one thaws once in a while.”

I didn’t know that. I haven’t been to the isle. Only Egan goes on royal visits with my father. “What—what did it say?”

Enya shakes her head. “No. I’m not telling you. Not ever.”

My panic rises. I know we’ll both die. Of course we will. But what if her death is soon? What if it’s before mine? Suddenly, the pain in my arm and the group closing in on us are irrelevant. I take a step toward her. “But—but if you tell me, we can stop it. We can make sure it doesn’t happen.”

Enya smiles, then. She tilts her head at me. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you?” I practically exclaim.

She shrugs a shoulder. “We all must die sometime. And it’s a good death. A glorious one, like you said.”

“Aren’t you ... aren’t you afraid?”

She shakes her head. “No. I’m not afraid at all.” She motions toward the cliff, just as the yells become clear. The Sunlings have found us. “Come on. We don’t have all day.”

She runs ahead. I stumble behind her, pain shooting through my arm as I shout at her to slow down, that maybe we should find another path. Maybe this one is too dangerous.

All she does is look over her shoulder at me, mischievously.

“I do not die today,” she says.

And then, she jumps.

One month into Sunling training, and I have yet to use my fire.

The instructors have tried everything. I have participated in their exercises. Attended their lessons. Observed their examples.

Now, they’re using fear.

“Get in.”

We’re far past the Sun Isle castle, in the scorch lands. There’s a hatch, aboveground. Below—only darkness.

I take a step in, and groan as I fall several feet onto grating sand. My instructor’s voice echoes as he says, “If you want light, make it.”

Then the latch closes, and my senses narrow.

The darkness is so saturated, I can almost taste it. I open my eyes. Close them. It’s the same either way.

I swallow as something crawls over my foot. The air is dry and full of dust. I cough. My throat burns.

Fine. I’ll try. Down here, at least, I can’t hurt anyone but myself. I search for that ember that’s always been in my chest.

Find your fire .

I look. I claw at the place it once was, asking for scraps, just a beam of light. Just something to leave this dark place.

But there’s nothing there.

It’s always the same. Just ash, where the flame once lived. In the darkness, my mind wanders.

It replays my worst moments, and that, truly, is the torture. Not the darkness. Everything that rises up because of it.

The attendant, Albert . I knew him for years. He was always kind to me and Enya. He would find us playing in parts of the castle we weren’t allowed in, and he never told my father. He just smiled and let us be.

And I killed him .

The shock of the day and the ones that followed had me burying those memories, those moments, but they rise to the surface now.

My parents and Enya’s mother were out of the castle, attending some important event in the agora. Egan was invited, of course.

I was left behind. My father didn’t even look at me as he strode past, hand on Egan’s shoulder. Like I was not even worthy of a second of his notice.

Enya found me in the armory. Smashing my father’s suit of armor against the ground, piece by piece. Beating it with every weapon I could find. Swords. Axes. Maces.