Page 77 of Grim and Oro (Lightlark)

HOPE

Someone’s banging on my door.

None of my friends have enough manners to knock.

I open it, fire in my palm ready—

It’s her.

She was about to pound again, and I catch her fist in my palm. There’s a moment where we just look at each other, like we’re both considering the days we haven’t seen each other.

Then, she pushes past me, and I let her, stunned.

Her ferocious zeal is back. The look in her eyes that makes me feel like I can do anything.

Like together, we can conquer any hurdle.

“This isn’t over,” she declares. “I refuse.” She steps toward me.

“I refuse to believe this is how it ends.” She pushes a finger into my chest. “You are king of Lightlark, the most powerful person in all the realms.”

I raise my eyebrows. And here I was, thinking I was nothing but a cursed wretch .

“There has to be another way. Another ending.”

Her finger is still pressed to my chest. I peer down at it, then look at her. “What do you suggest?”

She blinks. Opens her mouth. Closes it. I hate that she looks so surprised I would ask her opinion.

None of my plans have worked. If anything, they’ve worsened the situation. Perhaps she can think of a better one.

She does.

Of course she does.

It takes days, but she figures it out. Everything that I couldn’t, for decades. It’s brilliant. She’s brilliant, like the sun, like gold.

She knows where the heart is.

We meet at night, the same way we have countless times before.

She flicks my crown when she sees me.

Her obsession with it is perplexing. Does she hate it? Does she want it? I reach up and give it to her. I put it right on her head, and it slips down, resting across her forehead.

“If you’re right about this, Wildling, you might become more powerful than even me,” I say.

Wishful thinking. I’ve never wanted to be the most powerful person. This role was not chosen—it was given in blood. Countless people had to die for this crown to reach me.

I would give it up in a moment, if I could. Perhaps Isla would do a better job than I did. Perhaps she’s the key not only to breaking the curses, but also to surviving whatever comes next.

She gives me her crown, in turn. It’s tiny on my head, uncomfortable even, but I don’t move to take it off.

I’m not one to hope. It’s gotten me nowhere, over the centuries. But looking at her, beaming, walking with pride, wearing my crown, her chin held high....

She makes me want to hope again.

“What will you do?” she asks me, as we reach Moon Isle. “When we break the curses.”

When , not if. I almost smile at her confidence.

I allow myself to truly consider a world beyond this mess. A world where we actually succeed. “These past centuries, the focus has been on the curses. How to break them. How to live with them. How to survive them. With all that erased, I could be free to bring Lightlark to its previous glory.”

She gives me a look. “With Sunling as the reigning realm?”

I shake my head. “No. Before that. When the realms were united.” I imagine a world where realms aren’t divided by their curses. Where they are thriving again. Creating. Living .

She sighs. “I’m not sure the people of Lightlark would be thrilled if Wildlings returned.”

“They will have to learn to be,” I say, my words firm. She glances over at me. I don’t drop her gaze, even though I feel exposed, raw. “And perhaps you would want to stay.”

Don’t leave , I want to beg, as though I have any right.

Build this better world with me .

I realized it this morning, before seeing her.

I was excited, hopeful. And also devastated.

Because when the curses end, she has no reason to be here anymore.

She has a home thousands of miles away to return to.

I always knew these hundred days would come to an end; I just never thought she’d be the reason I’d mourn them.

She blinks, my words surprising her. “Perhaps,” she says.

Bitterness.

I feel my heart harden.

We walk in silence, until the blue bird swoops down, squawking wildly. Isla follows it, and I follow her, knowing I would follow her anywhere, if she let me. Snow flurries around us, blocking our view, and the ground transitions to ice. The trees become sparser.

The bird finally flies down, right into a nest.

There. It must be there, somewhere. We just have to wait for the heart to reveal itself.

There’s a cave nearby with a view of the nest. I make a fire with little effort, remembering how hard it used to be. How interesting it is that difficult things can become easy, with practice.

She eyes my fire curiously. I want to know what she’s thinking, as she slowly traces a finger around my crown. She startles, then scowls at her finger. A tiny drop of blood falls to the ground, staining it red. “It’s unreasonably sharp,” she asserts.

I laugh. How long has it been since I’ve laughed?

She smiles, not offended at all, almost happy that I’m happy , and—

Pain splits me in half. I double over, my vision going black for just a moment. My hands turn to fists.

Fire—fire and ice are cutting through me. I feel myself fracture. Outside the cave, snow falls, ice breaks.

My fingers dig into the cave floor as I funnel power, trying to force the world still. We’re too close. Too close to finding the heart for the island to break.

Not yet , I say, with every bit of me I pour into it. Not yet .

My skin is raw. It hurts everywhere. I shiver, tensing only when I feel her kneeling in front of me. I close my eyes tightly and lean against the wall.

“Are you all right?”

I nod, then jolt as another tremor runs through me. My hand slams to the ground, and I feel the stone of the cave break beneath my fingers. Instead of backing away, she leans forward. She isn’t afraid of my power. Not at all.

I feel her hand on my shoulder and go still. She takes it away, and I immediately mourn her touch.

Another painful jolt.

“What—what can I do?” she asks.

I just want relief .

This piercing through my body makes me lose any semblance of shame. So, I ask her something I’ve been wanting to say since the very first time I met her. “Sing for me, Wildling.”

It’s not so much a request as it is a plea.

And she does. Her voice is as beautiful as it was that first day, as it was on Carmel. It’s the same voice that’s been echoing through my head for months. Now it echoes through the cave, surrounding me in song. I could die like this , I think, with a smile on my lips.

She sings and sings, and it’s like medicine. Slowly, the pain retreats. My eyes open. I watch her, sitting on her feet, knees near my legs, singing.

Then she goes quiet.

“Why did you stop?” I ask, wondering if I can ask her to keep going.

She motions behind me and says, breathlessly, “Because of that.”

I’m on my feet in a moment. Both of us are. We rush to the entrance of the cave as the sun begins to rise.

Something is floating right below the nest. It’s white, like the moon.

“Is that an egg?” Isla asks.

It falls, slowly—

Then cracks open. Its yolk emerges, in sync with the sun rising from the horizon.

“The full egg represented the moon,” she whispers. “The yolk is the sun.”

She turns to me, and her eyes—

They are brighter than anything I’ve seen, even sunrise.

“That’s it,” she says. “That’s the heart.”

There it is. Right in front of me .

I smile, then sweep her off her feet before I can think better of it. We both laugh as I spin her around. Then, I shake my head. I reach over to straighten my crown, thinking it looks far better on her than it does on me.

Thinking I’ll give her my crown, my heart, or anything else she might want.

“Go ahead, Wildling,” I say. “Get our heart.”

She smiles and turns toward the nest. The bird screeches in celebration. I lean as far forward as I can without the light burning me, watching her in awe. In admiration. We did it.

She did it .

It happens so quickly.

One moment, she’s gripping the heart of Lightlark in her hand. Gold is shining through her fingers.

The next, an arrow pierces her heart.

A sound of pure agony tears through my chest. It shakes the island. It shakes the world .

The forest is aflame in a moment. The Vinderland have come for their revenge—for their blood—and now, they are ash.

I don’t even look at them.

I look at her, now on her knees. Choking her last breaths.

No.

No .

I roar, reaching toward her, forgetting the curse, forgetting everything but her. The moment my hand leaves the cave, my skin splits open, but I don’t care. I’ll reach for her until it kills me , I think.

But I don’t have to. Suddenly, someone appears.

Grim.

For the first time in centuries, I am relieved to see him. Because now, I’m positive he cares about her. I see it in his devastation as he takes in her injury. He won’t let her die.

“ Please ,” I say, willing to beg him for this. Willing to do anything if he’ll save her.

He seems shocked at the desperation in my voice, on my face, but his own agony overwhelms it. He takes Isla in his arms. She goes still.

Then he does the impossible—

He vanishes.

And not just invisible. No, somehow ... somehow, I felt Isla. Now I don’t. Somehow, I know that he’s gone somewhere else.

Which is impossible.

But is it?

We’ve always suspected Grim of having a flair. But this? Portaling? He could have used it before. He probably has. He’s been keeping this a secret for centuries for a reason.

Why reveal it now? For a woman he just met?

But I can’t judge him. Because the pain lancing through me right now doesn’t make any sense either. I sink to my knees, I clutch the ground, and for the first time in centuries, I beg.

I beg the gods to spare her, and I don’t even know why I care so much.

She told me herself. She’ll be gone, back to her newland as soon as this is over. We are nothing. She is nothing to me.

Bitterness like poison fills my mouth.

And that’s when I know for certain.

I know .

I value truth—though in my long life, I’ve tasted far more bitterness than sweetness. Lies are everywhere, all around us. Truth is the rarest thing in the world.

The worst lies are the ones we tell ourselves. And I’ve been lying for quite some time.

This— this is the moment I’m honest with myself, for the first time in months.

This is the moment I know I love her. Because that arrow went through her heart, but it might as well have gone through mine.

I love Isla Crown.

And now she might be dead.

The heart of Lightlark is twinkling on the ground, staring at me, right where Isla left it.

I’ve been looking for it for decades. At the start of the Centennial, it was all I wanted. I would have done anything to get it.

Now I wish I’d never looked for it.

I clutch her crown to my chest and beg. I beg the gods, and anyone else who might listen, for mercy. I make all types of promises.

“Please,” I say, on my knees. Staring straight at the sky. “Let her live, and I will keep fighting. I will keep this hope alive for a world that lives in peace.

“Let her live ... and I will let her go. If that’s what she wants ... if that’s what this world needs ... I will let her go.”

I want her selfishly, desperately, wholeheartedly.

But I just want her to live ... even if it’s not with me. Even if I never see her again.

If she is alive, that is enough. It will be enough to know that such beauty still lives in a broken world like this.

“Please. She is too good for this world, but I ask you to please, keep her in it.”

The hours are agony, waiting for the sun to set. I don’t even wait until it is gone, I fly the moment I know the sun won’t kill me.

The weak rays of sunset burn, shredding my skin, covering me in blood, but nothing compares to this worry, this heartbreak.

If she’s dead, I’ll never forgive myself.

If she’s dead, I’ll never know happiness again.

But the doors to her balcony burst open and—

There she is.

Standing there, breathing too quickly. Breathing .

“You’re alive,” I say. The relief nearly brings me to my knees. She doesn’t even have to be mine. She might never be mine, but the mere fact that she lives proves perfection exists. It proves this world has wonders in it yet. That I ever knew her at all is the world’s greatest gift.

I remember my promises. If she loves Grim ... if she chooses him ... that’s okay. I won’t scare her with my own feelings. I won’t tell her. She’ll never know. This isn’t her burden—it’s mine. And it is a pleasure to carry it.

“Good,” I say, straightening, trying my best not to show my feelings. Trying to harden my heart that is now burning and breaking.

I distract myself with a very different burning heart. I unfurl my fingers, to show it to her.

“We did it,” she says, relief flooding her features.

We . It’s a word I wish we could share forever. But we can’t. This is almost over.

I hand it over to her, and I wonder if she knows I’m giving her two, not one.

She’s still covered in blood and dirt. I remember now what I must do. I remember that anything she feels for me will turn to hatred soon enough. The way I always knew it would. “Bathe, Isla,” I say. “Get dressed. Then meet me in the library.”

I leave, before I can say anything more.