An Ember in the Ashes

“Fear can be good, Laia. It can keep you alive. But don’t let it control you. Don’t let it sow doubts within you. When the fear takes over, use the only thing more powerful, more indestructible, to fight it: your spirit. Your heart.”

“Fear is only your enemy if you allow it to be.”

“There are two kinds of guilt,” I say softly. “The kind that’s a burden and the kind that gives you purpose. Let your guilt be your fuel. Let it remind you of who you want to be. Draw a line in your mind. Never cross it again. You have a soul. It’s damaged, but it’s there. Don’t let them take it from you, Elias.”

“This life is not always what we think it will be,” Cain says. “You are an ember in the ashes, Elias Veturius. You will spark and burn, ravage and destroy. You cannot change it. You cannot stop it.”

Life is made of so many moments that mean nothing. Then one day, a single moment comes along to define every second that comes after

There will be so much more in between. So much uncertainty. I don’t know if we’ll survive the catacombs, let alone the rest of it.

But it doesn’t matter. For now, these steps are enough. These first few precious steps into darkness. Into the unknown.

Into freedom.

“Elias?” Laia doesn’t sound afraid, just wary.

The catacombs are tomb-black, but I know where we are: in a burial chamber that hasn’t been patrolled in years. Ahead of us are three entrances, two that are blocked and one that just looks blocked.

“I’m with you, Laia.” I reach out and take her hand. She squeezes it.

I take a step, Laia close beside me. Then another.

“Elias,” Laia warns softly.

“You forgot something.” Helene lifts her hands and pulls at my mask. It clings tenaciously, as if it knows that once it’s off, it will never get a chance at me again. Slowly, Hel rips it free, rending the flesh of my neck as the metal releases. Blood pours down my back. I hardly notice it.

Footsteps echo in the hall. A mailed hand clanks against the door. I have so much left to say to her.

“Go.” She shoves me toward Laia. “I’ll cover you this last time. But after this, I belong to him. Remember, Elias. After this, we’re enemies.”

“Why, Helene? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You think the Augurs would have let me? Besides, I know you, Elias. You wouldn’t have killed her, even if you’d known.”

“You shouldn’t have taken that vow,” I whisper. “I’m not worth that much. Cain—”

“Cain kept his vow. He said if I swore fealty and held it, you’d live. Marcus ordered me to swear my loyalty, so I did. He ordered me to swing that ax at your head. So I did. And here you are. Still alive.”

I touch the wound at my neck—a few inches more, and I’d have been dead. She’d trusted the Augurs with everything—her life, my life. But then, that’s who Helene is: Her faith is steadfast. Her loyalty. Her strength. They always underestimate me. I’d underestimated her more than anyone.

We sprint around the remains of the training building, and Laia begins to lag. I pull her along mercilessly. We can’t slow down now. I don’t let myself think about how close I am to freedom, or how close I came to death. I think only about the next step, the next turn, the next move.