Page 68 of Voidwalker (Beasts of the Void #1)

“Boden, stop it.” Panic, now. Sharp edges to Fi’s words. Tears stung her eyes, but she couldn’t cry. She never cried. Not anymore. “You can’t talk like this. Nyskya needs you. I need you.”

“It’s ok, Fi-Fi. I’ve done as much as I could. Just a… rotten stroke of luck. We always knew this was a chance, didn’t we? But you’ll take care of the rest.”

“You don’t know that, Boden. What have I ever done right?”

Fi was so cold. So hot. Like her shivers could rip her in two.

“You let Astrid go,” Boden said. “Finally made amends.”

“I haven’t made amends with you !”

“What—”

“I’m sorry, Boden. I’m sorry I ran away.

” She’d planned this so differently, a bottle of whiskey between them, a warm hearth, a grin on his lips.

“I’m sorry I left you to take care of dad.

Sorry I wasn’t there when he died. Sorry I didn’t come to the funeral, didn’t help you build the pyre.

” Merciless Void, there was so much. “I’m sorry I made you go through all that alone, made you track me down and—”

“Fi.” Boden’s hand fell upon hers. “I already forgave you.”

He was lying. He was trying to comfort her. “You didn’t.”

His brow creased. “Why not?”

“We never talked about it. You never wanted to talk about it!”

“Oh, Fi…” Barely a whisper now. “I didn’t know how to talk about it.

When I found you seven years ago, you were so lost. My little sister, so hurt and afraid.

I never wanted to force you back to that place.

I thought if we just moved forward, put the past behind us…

but I should have said all that.” He squeezed her hand.

“Fi. I forgive you. I forgave you years ago.”

“How?” Fi was shaking. She gripped his hand, so cold, so weak. “ I brought this to Nyskya. I brought a daeyari to your doorstep. I thought we could fight Verne’s Beast… now look at you!”

At the end, it was Boden’s smile that stopped Fi breathing. That familiar way it spread across his face, crinkling lines around his eyes.

“And what about everything else?” he said.

“You stayed in Nyskya, helped me build it into a home we could be proud of, even when you were still hurting. You stayed to fight Verne with us, even when you were afraid. We’re different people now, Fi.

You’re a different person. And I’m so proud of the person you’ve become.

I forgave you. All that’s left is for you to forgive yourself.

Fuck… I’m so proud of you, Fi… Please. Make this count. ”

He tried to move his hand again, to brush the tears that finally slipped down her cheeks.

His fingers fell still against hers.

All of him fell still.

The whole room, still.

The entire Plane.

Still.

Fi knelt at his side for a moment, a lifetime, until Antal wrapped an arm around her. She shrugged him off.

Then stood.

She backed away from the bed.

She walked out the door.

She stepped into the cold.

Inquiring eyes fell upon her.

She ignored them.

Tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t make them stop.

She crossed the yard.

She walked faster. Something boiling in her chest.

Into the forest with shaking hands.

Shaking teeth.

Shaking heart.

She walked faster.

She found a Curtain.

She pushed herself through.

She was cold.

She was alone.

She screamed.

Fi opened her lungs and screamed, not another soul to hear her on that barren Shard, a scream across flat ice and into the depths of the Void, every echo swallowed by uncaring eternity.

She screamed until the sound cracked and the cold air cut her throat, until all the emptiness surrounding her filled with her anguish.

And that wasn’t enough.

So Fi ran. Like she always did.

She pushed through another Curtain, onto the rock-cracked plain of another Shard. She screamed long enough to splinter stone, until the crunch of gravel beneath her boots grated like gnashing teeth. It wasn’t enough.

Seven years, and she’d never told Boden she was sorry.

Another Shard. Petrified trees stretched stony limbs to the Void sky, barren of leaves. She screamed until her voice echoed through each twisting bough, was carved forever onto the white of the trunks. It wasn’t enough.

Seven years of holding back, too terrified to tell him what he meant to her.

Another Shard. A lake like glass beneath a red aurora, a hum on the breeze like a funeral prayer. She screamed until ripples quaked the water’s surface, clawed stones from the beach and hurled them to shatter everything around her. It wasn’t enough.

This was how she’d always fled. Into nothingness, into the maze of dark mirror worlds beyond her cruel reality. Why was none of it enough this time?

He said he forgave her. How could Boden say he forgave her?

She screamed her way through another Shard.

Another.

Another.

As if the entirety of the Void wasn’t enough to hold all the lament in her ribs.

Gone. Gone.

She’d waited too long, now Boden was gone.

She couldn’t say what subconscious map led her to where the Shards became familiar. What desperate need pushed her through that final Curtain.

She emerged at the outskirts of Nyskya. Her home, in tatters.

Lavender morning lay upon the roofs. Blood and snow in the streets. Fi ran, tired legs trembling, searching for any movement, any sign of the Beast that had stolen her brother, so she could scream her fury into its soulless red eyes.

To no avail. The village was empty, silent and snow muffled.

They’d fought. They’d rallied. They’d been so close to victory. Fi should have been there. She should have been there with Boden, instead of running after…

Fi stumbled to the edge of the forest, to boot prints disappearing into the trees.

“Astrid!” she yelled to snow-laced boughs.

Nothing.

“Astrid! Come back!”

Maybe she wanted to lay the blame on Astrid’s shoulders for bringing the Beast here.

Maybe she wanted someone to tell her how to fix this.

Maybe she just wanted to fall into the arms of someone, the only one who still remembered Boden the way Fi did, that bright-cheeked boy huddled over hot cocoa and counting stars wreathed in aurora.

It didn’t matter the reason. No one replied.

Fi dropped to her knees in the snow, sobbing until she couldn’t breathe.

Astrid was gone. Boden was gone. Their mother, fled in the night.

Their father, burned on his funeral pyre.

And Fi alone in the ashes of all they’d built.

Her alone to move forward. How was she supposed to do that when she couldn’t imagine standing?

Couldn’t fathom the strength to do anything but curl into the snow?

Static pricked her tongue.

Fi wiped a hand under her nose, slick with snot. She’d expected Antal to track her down before now. Trying to give her space? Fi didn’t want him here. She didn’t want him to see her on her knees with tear-soaked eyes, this shattered husk of a human who couldn’t even save her only brother.

Antal didn’t come closer. Didn’t speak. Cagey bastard.

Fi stood with aching bones and aching heart. She wiped her face again, hoping to appear some sliver of presentable, knowing it was no use when her hand came back slathered with mucous and mascara. She turned with a scowl.

And found Verne staring back at her.