Page 4 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

FURY

TWENTY YEARS LATER

My blade is covered in blood. Nothing new—at least, not since my father waged war against Lightlark five years ago.

I wipe it against the grass, my expression blank as I charge forward. Someone at my feet begs for mercy. He says he has children.

I put my blade through his throat before he can say anything else.

Fool , I think. Only a fool would have a family, as a warrior. Only a fool would do something as stupid as love anything or anyone, when life so predictably turns to death.

Pathetic, all of them.

The first time I stepped onto a battlefield, I was met with an unyielding wall of fear and panic and pain . The emotions nearly suffocated me.

So, I had to learn to block them out.

Just as I’d already learned to block out my own.

Merciless, they call me. Cruel. A monster. Death, itself. They’re right. I don’t show mercy. I don’t hold hostages or leave bodies.

Because no mercy was ever shown to me.

My blade goes through another chest. I cut down all the warriors, one by one, focusing only on the path of my sword.

I’m following orders. It’s my duty. It’s my role.

And I’m good at it.

In the end, when everyone is dead, I portal their bodies away, to Nightshade, so our people can see our strength, at my father’s command. Some say it’s cruel not to allow bodies to be buried.

Perhaps they’re right. But since I became heir to the throne, I’ve never pretended to be anything less than a monster.

I stride through the halls of the Nightshade castle, my armor scraping together, my boots echoing against the black stone floor.

My father is sitting on his throne made of twisted, whispering calcified shadows. He nods at me, a single dip of his chin, the only acknowledgment he’ll allow.

I bow before him on one knee.

“Five hundred thirteen,” I say, counting the dead. Counting the kills on my blade.

He frowns. “They should surrender,” he says. “Why haven’t they?”

I stand.

“It’s the commander. The Sunling prince.”

The second son . He leads the armies. He, with his speeches and hope and fire , has rallied men beyond just soldiers.

My men fight out of fear of my father.

The Sunling’s men ...

They fight out of love for their home, for their people.

Love is for fools, and it has made all of them foolish. It has made thousands rush into battle, with barely the right equipment.

It’s idiotic.

Though ... it has made them stronger than anticipated. Harder to beat.

My father scowls. “A second son is besting my heir? Not even the firstborn?”

My back teeth grind together. If my father actually took to the battlefield, if he didn’t refuse to stay here until the very end of the war, then maybe it wouldn’t have lasted this long.

I could have ended it a long time ago, with the strength of my shadows. But that would have required opening back up my emotions. Dredging up that pain. It’s the one thing I refuse to do. Luckily, my father hasn’t suspected I’m holding back.

I’ve tired of battle. I might be good at killing, but I take no enjoyment in it. And with each life taken ... I feel that wall around me breaking. My buried emotions stirring. It’s time for this to be done, once and for all.

“This was one of their strongest stands, and they lost. Tonight, while they recover, we’re going to make a go at the castle.”

He stands.

“So, it’s time?” he asks.

I nod. “It’s time.

It’s time for the king of Lightlark to die.

He’s dead, along with his wife.

My father has just killed him. It was the first time I saw him exert such power—it barreled out of him, like he had been building it up. Saving it.

His blade was wrapped in shadows. They spilled out of the metal, striking both rulers at once. They fell, together.

Now, I can hear the commander’s bellow from the other side of the field.

The castle is right there, within reach. Their strongest soldiers have made a wall, holding firm against ours.

We’re going to win , I think.

I look over at my father, his shadows retreating back into his blade. He looks back at me, and I go still.

His arms ... they’re trembling. His eyes are bloodshot. He almost looks weak, which doesn’t make sense, because he is supposed to be stronger than all of us.

The commander, the Sunling prince, comes rushing out, right toward us. His blade is pointed at my father.

He’s going to kill him.

I should let him , I think. I should let this Sunling, with tears streaming down his face, who is roaring so loud it cuts through the rest of the screaming, kill my father.

But then I would be ruler. And that’s not something I want. Ever, if I can help it.

The war has cost me. Endless battles. Endless blood.

It’s been years of this, and I’m tired.

So very tired .

“Go,” I say. “I’ll deal with him.”

He nods. I portal him away, using shadows as cover.

Then, I roll my shoulders back and unsheathe my blade.

The Sunling prince’s teeth are bared. He’s roaring. He’s ... crying.

The emotion disgusts me.

Still, I offer him a warning. “You don’t want to fight me,” I say, as he gets closer. He doesn’t slow down at all. He doesn’t falter, even though I can see a group— his friends , it seems — try to go after him.

In response, he makes a wall of flames, blocking them. Blocking all his people.

The wall curves around us, until it makes a circle. It’s just him, and me.

“Where’s your father?” he demands, eyes searching wildly, the need for vengeance twisting his face.

My own voice is flat. “Gone. You’ll have to fight me.” I feel nothing.

He ... on the other hand ... I drop the barrier between us, and his emotions hit me like a battering ram. They almost have me stumbling forward.

Pain. So much ... pain.

Loss.

Fury .

I frown. Is that what caring about your parents feels like?

“Who is it?” I ask, genuinely curious. “Who’s the one whose death made you reckless enough to come here, to fight me? Was it your father?”

I feel a vague shift of emotions.

“Your mother?”

There. There, a blinding surge of sadness. It almost makes me pity him, my enemy. The person whose blood is about to be spilling down my blade.

“Ah. She—”

He lunges forward, and my sword barely blocks his. “Do not speak about my mother,” he growls.

Emotion. It clouds judgment. It clouds skill .

This is how I win, I realize.

I poke the wound. I squeeze the vein dry.

A smile crawls across my face. It’s cold. Devoid of feeling. “I’ll tell you what. Lower the flames, and I’ll let you keep her body. I’ll let you bury her with dignity.”

As if this fire could trap me.

A fresh spring of hurt pierces the air, making it heavy, like rain. He lunges forward again, and this, this is the skill I’ve seen from afar. He is not a bad fighter.

I’m just better.

I whirl around with half a thought and stab right through his armor. But it’s like he doesn’t feel the pain at all.

Red streams from the place I wounded, and he just charges forward, pushing my back against the flames. Only my shadows keep me from getting burned.

“Your father has taken everything from me,” he says, his voice pure rage and agony. His eyes are blazing. “I will take everything from him.”

He lunges forward and manages to scratch my armor.

I almost laugh. As if I could be anyone’s everything .

The only part of me my father cares about is the fact that I will continue our line. The ability to portal convinced him we need to regain everything we once lost. Everything he thinks is rightfully ours.

We did it. We’re about to conquer Lightlark. The king and queen are dead. This war, finally , can end.

This is dragging on too long.

I strike back, with all my force. At the last moment, he grits his teeth and avoids it. The tip of my blade manages to cut a slash across his cheek, but again, it’s like he can’t feel the pain. It’s like he can’t feel anything beyond this crushing sadness.

“As if you could understand,” he says, his voice shaking with anger as our blades meet, scraping together. “As if you’ve ever known the pain of seeing the person you love most die in front of you.”

I still. The world stills. Quiets. His words ... His words are stronger than his sword. I might block his metal with my own, but those words lance right through me.

I’ve let the barrier down, to feel his emotions.

My own come rushing back, for the first time in decades, with the force of a tidal wave.

Laila .

Her confusion, when she realized Father had betrayed her. Her gasp, when she realized she was dying. I killed her.

I killed her .

I can’t breathe. I stumble to the side, off-balance. Blocking my emotions hasn’t made them go away, it’s made them stronger, as if they’ve been teaming up and building forces behind my ribs, and now they blind me, they pierce me like the shadow-blades that cut right through her, that ended her .

I killed her. I see her shredded body, all the blood. I see the light leave her eyes. I feel that pain, that betrayal.

She trusted me, and I—

I blink, just in time to see Oro’s sword inches from my chest, about to skewer right through my heart. I should let him.

In the last moment, I use every shred of strength to turn my body from flesh and bone to just a wisp of smoke, just like when I walk through walls, and the blade goes right through me.

But we both can see it.

He won. Had I not used my power, he’d have killed me.

The second son ... he won this battle. Against me .

I stumble back and go right through the flames. I use them as a wall, blocking me, as I portal back to the castle.

My feelings, my memories, they’ve knocked me off my carefully constructed axis.

I feel. I feel . I make it a few steps before retching.

I slide my hand across my mouth when I’m done.

Teeth gritted, I try to bury these emotions again, just as I did before.

I’m able to fold away some of them ...

but not all. I’m left with the regret, the self-loathing, the pain . ..

I find my father slumped over on his throne. When he sees me, he can barely get his head up.

“What happened?” I demand, the first time I’ve ever demanded anything from him. His weakness meant I was out there alone. I, alone, have had to kill thousands because of his orders.

And he isn’t even strong enough to sit upright .

He narrows his eyes at my insolence, and I wonder if he would kill his only heir. The feelings within me lurch again, and I almost wish he would try.

Instead, he lifts his palm. At the center of it, sits a marking I don’t understand.

“What is—”

“I’ve been cursed,” he tells me. “I sensed it, and the augur read my blood. He confirmed it.”

Cursed? “What kind of curse?” Curses are an ancient practice, only mastered by few in our histories.

“One tied to an object.”

My voice is ragged, desperate, because this bastard cannot die . “What object?”

“On the island of Atlas, there lives—”

“A diamond.”

The word is barely a whisper, as I remember one of the many secrets Laila told me. The thought of her produces another painful flare of regret. I work to put it out.

He nods. “I could not claim it ... and it cursed me for trying.”

I blink. In recent years, I’ve become more familiar with the diamond called Infinite. It is said to hold otherworldly ability. The climb to claim it is treacherous. And ... even those who have made it to Atlas’s peak have been killed by the stone itself.

I don’t understand why my father, ruler of Nightshade, would take such a risk. Then, a thought forms. “You thought its power would help us win the war.”

The corners of his lips twitch. He looks like he’s almost at the edge of losing his mind, as he leans forward. “The war? This stone would win the world .”

Now that my emotions are unmoored, a strange rage fills me, because I had stupidly hoped there would be an end to all this bloodshed. All this death.

But this ... it’s clearly just the beginning.

My father will never be satisfied. He doesn’t just want Lightlark. He wants everything .

The reality of our situation becomes clear.

My father is dying.

He just killed the king and queen ... if their second son’s response is any indication, every single person on that island will be attacking our forces soon, with a vengeance.

We’ve already lost so many. And I ... I can’t fight like this. I need time away from battle, away from bloodshed, away from the father I hate, to restrain these emotions again. To forget. To reinforce the walls that the Sunling’s own feelings and words demolished.

“We need to surrender,” I say, my voice firm.

Anger flashes in my father’s eyes.

“You need to focus on how to survive this,” I say, pretending I care at all about his well-being, beyond my own fate.

“Even if we win ... we are not in a position to keep Lightlark. They will overpower us once more. We can’t take more losses.

Not with you in this state ... it could mean the end of Nightshade. ”

My father refuses. He tries to make a stand at the next battle, as if to prove his strength, and it almost kills him.

It wrecks me. For without these walls around my mind and soul, I feel everything.

The sadness. The pain. And it calls to my own, drawing it out, until I am nothing but flesh and armor holding together endless shame and self-hatred.

It almost costs me my life, on the battlefield. I almost wish it did.

My father loses weight. He pales further. He’s practically a husk by the time he calls me back into the throne room several weeks later. He has another plan. One that starts with surrender.

He’s so weak he can barely lift a palm to sign the terms of the treaty.

“Go,” he says. “Find a way to claim the island once and for all, from the inside.”

The second I’m rowed onto Lightlark’s shores again, I’m imprisoned.

And for months, prison is where I remain.