Chapter 24

24

His hands were bloody again, this time from the hours he'd been banging on the door of the empty room that had become his cell. He and the others were knocked out and separated, making it impossible for Bridger to know where they were taken.

Bridger didn't need to see the outside of this room to know he was in Ardor—Meyer's homeland. The walls were made of orange clay with stucco textures; nowhere else in their realm would this adobe material be used.

Bridger paced, his dirty boots scuffing against the ceramic tile flooring. He scratched at the brand on his forearm that stifled his powers, begging the dead gods to give them back—to let him get to Vega.

Power benders from Fraus were a special kind of people, and the worst part of their power was their ability to stop others from using theirs. Bridger was in deep shit. They had made the brand on his forearm, which was outlawed for use outside of the Curia's control. It took his powers, turning him into nothing more than a powerless human.

The only way to break it was to have it removed by a bender .

A sound rattled from the other side of the door, causing Bridger to stand at attention in the middle of the room.

His broad shoulders rolled back, preparing for a physical fight if needed. When the door opened, his parents stepped in. His mother was clothed in a long black dress flowing to the floor around her feet. Her hair was sharp, the cut tight to the edge of her chin, not a strand out of place as usual.

His father was in a clean commander's uniform, completely black. His cape caught the air, fluttering behind him as he strolled into the lonely room.

Bridger used to dream of the day he'd get to don the suit his father was wearing.

"Where is she?" Bridger stormed toward the both of them, but his father held his hand up, his powers still intact. Bridger slammed into the wall of his father's shield, one he could usually bend to his will if his powers weren't being smothered.

"Knock it off, Bridger." His mother's voice sounded as if she'd run out of patience. "You need to snap out of this." She stood on the other side of the invisible wall Lucius had up, not a lick of concern for her son on her face. She was annoyed, even slightly bored, as she watched her only child pace the length of the shield, looking for a hole in his father's power.

He wouldn't find one.

Bridger was stronger than his father, but he wasn't as experienced, which would always be his fatal flaw.

"I swear to the gods, if you've hurt her, I will rip your throats out." Bridger's voice was a growl, his pacing more like that of a beast trapped in a cage than a young man talking to his parents. He stopped directly in front of them, close enough to reach out and grab them by the necks.

If only he could.

His father finally spoke up. "She's alive… for now." The smile that lingered on his face shouldn't be there—not when talking about th e woman his son was in love with. Bridger wanted to snap him in half for finding the idea of Vega's death humorous.

"You need to listen to us." His mother began to sneak into her doting mother tone she used when someone was listening. "A war is coming, and we need to prepare. We cannot present a divided front in this family."

Bridger spat at the feet of his parents. "We are not family."

His father sighed, stepping through his shield with the grace of a warrior only years of practice could give him.

Bridger didn't stand down. He stepped forward, ready to go toe-to-toe with the man who'd taught him everything he knew.

"I've had enough of this." With a swift kick, Lucius had his son on his knees, knocking his legs out from underneath him.

Bridger reacted quickly once on the cold floor, grabbing his father's leg with one arm and bringing him to the floor beside him. Bridger was able to wrangle himself on top of his father thanks to his unexpected retaliation.

He went to wrap his hands around his father's throat, but the man didn't let him get that close. Without anything more than the power inside of him, Lucius flung his son across the room like a piece of paper. Bridger skidded across the floor, hitting the wall with a boom that stole the breath from his lungs. Gasping for air, Bridger popped up, hunched over and bleeding from the corner of his mouth when three guards grabbed him from behind.

"Take him to Marlena," Lucius barked. His men obeyed, dragging Bridger as he tried to fight them off. These men had trained beside him—had they known what was to come? Or were they just as blindsided as Bridger was and were now forced to follow along because of the oath they took to the realm?

He fought the whole way, not willing to make this easy on anyone. One of his father's men thrust him through a double door at the end of a long hallway .

Where was Meyer? He had to be somewhere near. Did he know what they were doing to Bridger?

Years of hostage training made Bridger focus on his location and where his most accessible escape might be—the easiest escape to slip away with Vega.

He cared about Arlet and Khort, but not in the way he loved Vega—they knew that. There was no hiding behind a facade with Bridger.

Inside the large meeting hall, Bridger searched the room for Vega first, then Arlet and Khort. He was alone except for the guards and his parents. It was him against five others and he was powerless, but that didn't mean he was ready to give up—he didn't give up.

"Let him go." His dad was at his side again, freeing him from the harsh grip of his soldiers. "If you touch me again, I will snap your neck."

Bridger knew he wasn't kidding.

"You're a sick man. Fucking pathetic! Look at who you're following. She's a monster. Marlena is killing her loved ones, killing innocent people all around her!" Bridger knew his father had never been a caring man, had witnessed his harshness first hand—he'd always lived up to the dark reputation the Dimicos had despite the fair, angelic features he possessed.

"You act like you have any idea what's going on. If you only knew the half of it, you'd shut your fucking mouth." Lucius Dimico, commander of Tolevarre's army, was nose to nose with his son, teeth gritted.

Bridger was about to give his father a quick headbutt when the door swung open again and a voice cut him like a knife, spilling his guts all over the lovely Ardor flooring. "It might do you well to listen to your father, Bridgey."

The pet name Marlena used to tease him with on nights he thought they were friends ripped him open. Marlena came strolling in, covered in soot and blood. It had been days since the initial attack in Aeris—had she showered at all or was her killing spree so never-ending that it didn't matter how many times she washed herself clean?

His gaze locked on hers, her lips curled in an insolent smile.

Gone was the girl with flowers in her hair, so beautiful and pure her soul seemed to exude light. In her place was darkness set free, and the room hummed with the power of the damned.

"Quiet now, are we?" Marlena stalked him, circling the room with him in her sights. "Come on. I know you have something you'd like to say to me." Her grin could rattle even the bravest of soldiers.

"Where is Vega?" It was the only question he wanted answered.

Marlena sighed. "It's always about her." Was this all because of a sister's jealousy? Marlena was always going to have the power, the title. Vega didn't even want it—her parents' plan for her was always to marry another Curia member's kid. Vega would be the bride, Marlena the ruler.

"She's alive… for now." Her words echoed his father's, and it was in that moment he realized how far involved his parents were in all of this. Marlena had them wrapped around her wicked little finger.

Vega was okay. Bridger had to get to her. Almost as if his muscles reacted before his brain did, he surged towards Marlena.

Bridger got within inches of her, but a power like nothing he'd ever felt before slammed into him. Marlena didn't even flinch. The only muscle in her body moving was a twitch at the corner of her mouth.

The sinister smile she'd started to adorn pulled at her cheeks, never leaving her beautiful face.

Bridger was hovering in the air, just like Vega's dad had been, not able to move an inch.

Marlena marveled at him, no , at what she was doing. "Wow," she said, exhaling. Bridger watched her test her newfound powers as he observed her in horror.

What the fuck has she done ?

She flicked her wrist, and Bridger slammed into the wall, the adobe clay splintering from the force as his ribs cracked, collapsing a lung. A guttural noise ripped from his mouth at the pain.

"Bring them in." Marlena marveled at her hands. The emerald flame Bridger saw before she killed her father swirled in her palm.

Bridger forced himself to a seated position, gasping to fill his one working lung with oxygen. Three doors opened around the room at the same time, all from different directions. Dragged by men in his father's army were Khort, Arlet, and Vega.

Khort's face was black and blue, his blond hair coated in blood from the cuts all over his face. With their powers stripped, they wouldn't heal at a rapid rate.

Arlet didn't seem to be conscious.

Vega was screaming, flailing against the hold on her, covered in blood and beaten. But fighting. "You rotten witch! Tell me why! Why!" Her screams echoed off the tall ceilings.

The guards threw Khort and Arlet onto the hard floor. Khort was hardly able to catch himself, holding his tattered body up with one arm. The wrist on his opposite arm was bent in the wrong direction. Arlet hit the ground with a thwack . If she wasn't unconscious before, she was now.

"Shut her up, or I'll do it for her, Bridger." Marlena meant it as a threat, but Bridger took it as a command. With everything inside him, broken bones and all, Bridger crawled towards Vega.

The guards were still holding her, but she was fighting with everything she had left.

"Vega…" he choked.

Her name from his lips stopped Vega in her tracks, her attention snapping to Bridger on the floor, battered and broken.

"Bridger," she gulped, finally aware someone other than her, the guards, and her sister were here. Her eyes fluttered to the others. "Oh my gods, Bridger. What did you do to him?" Anger bubbled behind Vega's eyes. Marlena motioned for the guards to let her go. Vega tumbled forward, collapsing to the ground beside Bridger. "Are you okay? Look at me." She grasped his face, pulling him into her as best as she could with her own beaten body.

"I'm okay," Bridger croaked.

Marlena growled. "Your love has blinded you."

Marlena had been planning this for years. Years . And none of them saw it coming. She played them like fools, plotting with his own parents and other Curia members behind their backs at night and then meeting them all as friends for breakfast the following morning.

The time for talking was over. Vega could ask why as much as she wanted. It wouldn't change a thing.

"How could you do this to me? To us?" Vega looked around the room at the friends she and Marlena grew up with. "Just answer me. Give me something." Vega led with her heart, and Marlena had utterly crushed it.

"You want a reason?" Marlena snapped her head up. She was by Khort, who hadn't said a word and wouldn't make eye contact with anyone.

She prowled over to Vega and Bridger, the boots on her feet leaving smudges of blood and mud behind her. Marlena grabbed her sister by the hair. Vega clawed at her, nicking her with one of her nails. Marlena tossed her back to the ground in the middle of the room where everyone could see her.

Bridger felt broken and useless.

Marlena towered over Vega, always taller but now more confident and lethal than she'd ever been. She leaned down to get within inches of her sister's face. Vega's wide eyes didn't show fear, but pain—despair. She'd been betrayed by her own flesh and blood; she had every right to feel agony.

"I did this because someone had to, and the last one they would have expected was me. Perfectly poised, ready-to-lead Marlena. Always-following-the-rules Marlena. Never-biting-back Marlena! Guess what I realized, sister… Why would I settle for just two seats when I could have them all?"

Power.

Marlena wanted more than she was allotted.

Vega choked. "You killed our parents. Slaughtered them with a smile. What happened to you?"

Marlena grabbed her sister's face. "Maybe I should have been watched a little closer." She rose, the room's electricity rattling with her new powers. "Our parents raised a powerful woman. One meant to rule, and yet you're surprised when I finally do?"

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," Vega wailed.

Marlena laughed. "This is always how it was going to be. You just couldn't see it because you accidentally fell in love with my future commander."

Vega looked at Bridger, defeat settling on her face.

"It worked in my favor. You would have done anything for him. You even went as far as to summon a dead god—I'm sorry, a demigod —to protect him. Them." She pointed to Arlet and Khort.

Bridger never took his eyes off Vega.

Marlena looked at her with longing, with the eyes of someone who'd been forgotten, of someone who just wanted to come first to someone… anyone. "You picked them."

Bridger's physical pain worsened while watching the interaction between the Caelum sisters, his heart running amok in his chest.

"You're my sister, Mar, my best friend. I would have picked you. Always." Marlena still towered over Vega, who was cowering on the floor, looking smaller than she'd ever been. Bridger had never seen her shrink for anything, under anyone.

"You're a liar." The hatred bled through, tarnishing every ounce of who Marlena once was.

Vega shook her head, sitting up on her knees, looking as if she might reach out and touch her sister.

"You were oblivious, lost in your perfect little world. You never even stopped to see what I was going through." It seemed Vega might be getting to her, that if she kept pushing, she might be able to have a breakthrough. "You didn't care."

"That's not true," Vega countered, reaching out to grab her sister's hand. Marlena let her have it, taking the time to look down at their connected bodies. Vega was covered in blood, her hair tangled around her face. She wore Bridger's shirt still, drowning in its size. "Whatever you were going through—whatever you're going through, we can fix this. It's not too late. We can do this together."

The Caelum sisters both looked like they had fought for their lives.

Only one had.

The other completed her tasks with zero remorse, zero regrets. It was written all over her face, easily seen even under the mask of vulnerability she was currently wearing.

"You let them beat me. You ignored the bruises, the nights I was locked away. You never stopped to see what was happening to me right in front of you. It didn't have to be like this. I could've saved you."

Bridger watched from his position on the cold floor, ignoring the fire of pain lapping up his side, a familiar hand on his shoulder. His mother finally decided to check on her son, the one who had been lying on the floor in a heap in front of her for longer than any mother should allow. Bridger tried to push her away, but she held on with a vise-like grip, forcing him to a standing position.

Katrin Dimico leaned in, whispering her simple order. "Stand tall. Don't let them see you fall apart." At least her hands were kinder than his father's would have been.

Bridger felt like he was watching this unfold from outside of his body. He could see his mother hoisting him up, sliding her shoulder under his to help support most of his weight. He watched as Arlet blinked, coming to and finding her surroundings. When she realized where she was and who was around her, she froze. He could see Khort cave into himself, accepting their deaths.

Bridger refused to do that. He'd promised that he would fight with Vega, side by side.

Until his dying breath.

Marlena's mood shifted. Vega's hand was still in hers, the sisters in what might be their last calm physical touch. Marlena's gaze moved from their hands to Vega's identical eyes.

And her sinister smile came back.

Without another moment of hesitation, Marlena yanked Vega up from the floor, snapping her wrist. Vega yelped in pain.

Bridger stumbled forward, pulling away from his mother.

"Stop," she hissed, much stronger than the broken and powerless son she had in her grasp.

"Marlena, please, just let us go," Bridger begged, something that was drilled into him not to do since he was a child—Dimicos don't beg. But he would.

For Vega, he would do worse.

Marlena couldn't hear him. Her hand was around Vega's throat, holding her at arm's length, her head cocking as she took in the gurgling noises coming from her sister. Vega scratched at her sister's arms, unable to get her plea out.

Water pooled around their feet. Bridger looked down, the room filling with dark seawater, warm from the Caldor Ocean. He couldn't keep his eyes off Marlena and Vega, fear dulling the pain he was in.

Lucius stepped forward, and with the help of his father, Bridger was contained, going nowhere. His mother had picked him up, reminding him not to embarrass their family, but his father had always thought he was a disgrace—long before Vega. It didn't matter he was the strongest warrior their world had ever seen. Bridger wasn't his father, and that fact drove Lucius mad. Lucius's brutality wasn't a trait Bridger ever wanted to bear. He didn't want to lose the humanity inside him to impress a man who mistreated everyone just because he could.

Bridger was good. He was fair. He wanted to change the way the army operated one day. Bridger dreamed of the day his father stepped down and he got to make a difference… but that day would never come. Instead, he'd die because he wasn't the son his father wanted him to be.

Lucius threw him to the hard floor. "If you're going to act like one of them, you can die like one of them." He slammed a boot to the side of Bridger's head. The water splashed in his face, the salt burning his eyes and turning them bloodshot. Even through the physical pain he felt, he still tried to fight himself free.

"I'll do anything, Marlena. Please, let her go." Bridger's words were garbled, the water beginning to pool over half of his face.

Marlena whispered, speaking to no one but herself. "It's too late." Marlena raised her other hand, emerald electricity crackling in her open palm. Another new power. This was no longer the Marlena who could hide herself with invisibility and create a dangerous gust of wind. Lightning crackled from somewhere inside her, and she turned her head to admire it before she looked back to her sister. "You think you're the only one who can summon dead gods, sister?"

Vega's eyes were red, vessels bursting and staining her irises with blood. Marlena eased up, and Vega choked out, inhaling with a wheeze. The look of shock that should be on her face was stolen by the need to breathe.

Marlena laughed, taking in the rest of the room's reaction. She was enjoying this, the power, the upper hand. She had summoned a god too.

"How?" Vega squawked, her vocal cords sustaining damage from the hold Marlena had on her. Marlena didn't let her go. She yanked her by the neck, bringing them back face to face.

"Where do you think you got the idea from? It wasn't yours. I've been planting the idea of summoning a god for help in your brain for months. It was so easy." Marlena's voice heightened, mimicking a conversation they must have had privately. "Could you imagine if we summoned one to fix the problems inside the Curia? We could change the world." Her laugh was uneven, her voice returning to its normal tone. "We could have. Together. But you made your choice, and I can't do anything to save you now. I won't. How hopeful you were. You've always been so easily manipulated, so easy to crush… and yet you got the better powers. It should have been me." Marlena let go of Vega's throat but switched her hold to the newly branded wrist the four of them shared.

Marlena was so strong. Too strong.

The water continued to rush in. Bridger fought his way upright enough not to drown. His father let him, but only because he was as bewitched by Marlena as the rest of the room was.

"I bet my twelve murdered gods are a lot angrier than your one vengeful demi," Marlena divulged, finally revealing her secret. "You may have been stronger, Vega, but I've always been smarter." Ardor's building shuddered. The water suddenly stopped rushing in, falling to a stillness around their feet.

Arlet made it to Khort, holding on to her friend in what was bound to be their last moments. Bridger looked over to them from his spot on the floor. Arlet and Khort nodded at him, tears streaming down Arlet's round cheeks.

Marlena had summoned the twelve original gods, their powers now all hers.

And they didn't stand a chance.

"What are you?" Vega asked, not moving.

Marlena leaned forward, sharing a secret with her sister the rest of them couldn't hear. Vega's eyes went wide, jaw nearly unhinging from how quickly it fell open.

Marlena drew a blade from a holster. Khort lunged forward. "No!"

Arlet went with him, standing zero chance against whatever power consumed Marlena. Her attention was all on Vega. She didn't have to look at the two bodies coming towards her to stop them.

Water splashed up around Arlet, cocooning her inside an impenetrable force field. The saltwater slid down her throat, drowning her where she stood.

A gust of wind picked up, suspending Khort in midair. He couldn't move, eyes opened wide as he was forced to watch while his best friend was drowning—while the girl he'd been in love with since childhood was held at knifepoint by her sister.

Bridger's ears rang. He heard no sound, only knew he was screaming and trying to yank free from his parents' hold to get to Vega.

Bridger fought.

Until the end.

Marlena sneered, "Je te verrai." I'll be seeing you. And then she plunged her knife into Vega's chest, piercing her through the heart.

Vega didn't have time to scream before the blade sank into her and the life drained from her eyes.

"Vega! No! Vega!" Bridger didn't know if it was him saying that, didn't know if it was Khort or Arlet. His heart broke, shattered, tears spilling over as he fought with all his might. His elbow slammed into his father's nose, breaking it with a crunch—blood pooled out, and he let go of Bridger long enough for him to overpower the guards with polished punches and warrior-like grace.

The pain in his side didn't matter. His uneven breathing didn't matter—nothing mattered anymore.

Marlena let Vega's body crash to the floor and released whatever power she had on Khort and Arlet. Khort fell twenty feet to the floor, and yet somehow, he still managed to get to Vega's lifeless body. Khort shuddered with wails of physical and emotional pain.

Arlet couldn't move, coughing up all of the Caldor Ocean from her lungs .

Marlena looked to them, head held high. "She'll be back." Vega's body disappeared, snatched from Khort's hold. "Go find her."

Marlena left them with a puff of black smoke. The water on the floor disappeared, evaporating like the villain of their story had, leaving not a single mark on the room around them—almost like it hadn't been there at all.

Bridger's tears mixed with the water dripping from his hair. He slammed his fist into the flooring, shattering the tile and his knuckles. His cry wasn't from the pain in his hand, but from the hole the size of their realm inside his chest.

Bridger knew from that moment on he would never feel complete again.

The cold toilet seat pulled Bridger back to reality, awakening his senses. He could feel the cool porcelain, could see the light from underneath his bathroom door, could hear the thrum of his heart in his ears, could taste the bile on his tongue, could smell the contents of his stomach in the toilet he'd retched up until his entire body hurt.

Bridger used the tactics he'd learned when being trained by his father for surviving torture. Use your senses to stay alive. He heard the echo of his father's crisp voice in his head as if he were standing over him in the bathroom.

He hadn't meant to fall back asleep after receiving word about Halo, but his exhaustion was hard to ignore, and sleep, no matter how restless it was, was hard to fight.

These dreams were his own personal form of torture.

It took a curse that wasn't even his only a few weeks to begin deconstructing the walls of his mental shield block by block. A shield that had been fortified for forty years .

Each night was a new reminder of all it had taken from him.

Watching Vega's first death play out inside of his mind would stick with him. Bridger wasn't sure he'd ever be able to rebuild the walls he'd once had. Waking up this morning felt like that first morning without her.

Hollow.

Bridger spit into the toilet and wiped his mouth across his forearm, flushing one last time before hoisting himself off the cold bathroom floor. He could not let this consume him—he wouldn't. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, at the sticky sweat on his face. The bags under his eyes were more noticeable than they'd ever been.

Bridger had taken all of his memories of Vega, good and bad, and burned them from his mind, ridding himself of the guilt he felt when he thought of her and the things he had done to her and their friends.

Nothing any of them had been through was easy, and they had all found ways to cope with the misery they felt, but Arlet and Khort had yet to give up on Vega.

Bridger had.

Marlena knew breaking Bridger would be breaking Vega—their relationship had always been more than just love. After the summoning, their bond was unlike anything Bridger had ever felt. He could sense her mood shifts, felt like he could hear her thoughts before she spoke them, and their powers—gods, they were so strong together.

Being tortured by Marlena for two years, locked under the home she'd rebuilt in Aeris, changed him. In some ways, it made him sharper, but in others… he'd never be the same.

Bridger could only imagine what it felt like for Vega to remember everything all at once. At least the rest of them got the time to heal slowly, becoming whatever person it made them along the way.

Sometimes he wondered if she would rather be dead forever than have to do this over and over and over again.

Death could be peaceful .

But Bridger didn't have the luxury of forgetting, of wishing for death. Today, he had to swallow his pain and hunt down the very woman he'd promised to fight for until the end.