29. Briony

TWENTY-NINE

Briony

T he sky is darkening. Grey and purple clouds swarm together above our heads. Thunder rumbles, like the sky is trying to split itself in two. Lightning. Not pale white but bright violet. It streaks across the sky, forking and carving out a path through the clouds.

Behind me, back at the castle, Alana's power swells and grows.

"This is where I leave you." Pria nods at me.

"Where are you going?"

She shakes her head. "No idea, and if I did know, it's not likely I'd tell you." She offers me a firm pat on the shoulder. "Good luck, Briony."

I watch as she leaves, disappearing down a dark alleyway, then quicken my pace. I know where I am heading, and I cannot get there quickly enough.

After winding down several abandoned side streets, I emerge in a small, empty square.

In front of me, the looming facade of an orphanage brings back floods of memories I've tried to forget over the two hundred years since I was released from here into Eldrion's care.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

If Alana is coming for the Shadowkind next, they should be warned. And I have to begin here. With the most vulnerable.

I rap on the door firmly with a clenched fist. It swings open to reveal an elderly Shadowkind fae. Black robes, hair pinned back into a tight bun at the base of her neck, thick dark-rimmed glasses.

She clocks my wings, then the sky, then starts to duck back inside, preparing to slam the door in my face.

"Please, wait." I put my foot in the doorway. "Don't shut me out. I'm here to warn you."

Still silent, she folds her arms and narrows her eyes at me.

"There's trouble at the castle. It's hard to explain. But all Shadowkind need to leave the city. Lord Eldrion is coming for us."

I do not mention Alana. It is too much to explain, and her name will not instil as much fear as his.

The Shadowkind fae in front of me nods slowly and looks at the sky again. "I thought as much," she says. Then she steps over the threshold and closes the door behind her.

Pushing past me, she makes her way to the gate.

"Where are you going?" I call, spinning around and hurrying a few steps after her.

"Going to warn my family, of course," she says.

I look back at the building. "What about the children? Who's in charge?"

She stops, tilts her head to the side, and says, "Well, I guess now I'm gone... no one." She rolls her tongue over her teeth, then sighs. "They'll have to fend for themselves. I have my own kin to worry about."

And then, just like that, she is gone.

I turn back to the orphanage, push open the heavy wooden door, and step inside. The familiar musty smell hits me immediately– a mixture of old books, dust, and something vaguely medicinal. It's a scent I thought I'd forgotten, but now it rushes back, bringing with it a chilling sense of nostalgia that settles on my skin like ice.

My footsteps echo in the empty hallway as I make my way towards the dormitories. It's late; the children will be in bed.

Each step feels like I'm walking back in time, to when I was just a small, frightened child, thrust into this place with no idea what was going to happen to me or how long I'd be here.

Foolishly, for the longest time, I thought I was here to find parents. A family.

I didn't realise I was here to be prepared for my years of servitude to Eldrion.

I pause outside the dormitory door. Taking a deep breath, I push it open.

The room is dim, lit only by a few flickering candles. Rows of small beds line the walls, each one occupied by a child. Some are sleeping, others are sitting up, wide-eyed and alert. The sight of them, so vulnerable and afraid, makes my heart ache.

Each has their wings bound.

I swallow hard and try not to notice the bile building in my stomach as I remember exactly what that felt like.

The pain.

The humiliation.

As I step further into the room, another smell reaches me– the faint scent of sage. It's coming from the small sachets hung at the end of each bed, a futile attempt to mask the underlying scent of fear and loneliness that permeates the air.

I remember those sachets. I used to hold mine close at night, breathing in the soothing scent, pretending I was somewhere else, anywhere else.

A small voice breaks through my thoughts. "Who are you?"

I turn to see a young girl, no more than fifty fae years old, staring up at me. The sight of her makes my throat tighten.

"My name is Briony. Your mistress had to leave, but I'm here to take you somewhere safe."

"Safe?" the girl asks.

I crouch down to her level, trying not to terrify her with my version of the truth. "Some bad things are happening in the city, so we need to leave."

"And you're going to help us?" she asks.

"Yes," I manage to say. "I'm here to help." When I stand up, I speak to the rest of the children, projecting my voice to fill the room. "We need to leave, all of us, right now."

As I speak, they begin to stir, whispering amongst themselves. The air in the room shifts, filled with a mixture of hope and fear.

"I know you're scared, and this is a lot to take in," I say, my voice stronger than I feel. "But we have to be brave. And we have to be fast."

Beside me, the girl takes my hand and squeezes it tightly. She is so small, so very small and innocent.

Do Finn and Alana not see what they're doing?

Do they not care how many people they are hurting?

"Will we get out in time?" the girl asks.

It has been a long time since I've been around young fae like this. I've been holed up in Eldrion's castle for most of my life, and it is not a place where children are welcome.

And now here I am, surrounded by them. Trying to get an entire school full of young Shadowkind out of the city before Alana comes for them.

Just thinking those thoughts sends shudders of nausea through me.

When I first met her, she was the most kind and thoughtful person I'd ever encountered. She emanated warmth, and a quiet strength. And there was hurt in her eyes.

She was someone who had seen pain, and hardship, and that was why our bond was so quickly formed.

I brought her into my heart as a friend, and she did the same for me.

At least, I thought she did.

But that Alana has gone.

Maybe she was never really there at all.

She is no different from them now; from Finn, and Eldrion, and all the people who ever made her feel like a monster.

They shaped her in their own image. They turned her into what they feared the most, and now she will destroy us all.

Unless we can get free in time.

"It's going to be all right." I stand at the front of the dormitory and speak loudly. "There's no time to gather any belongings, just get dressed quickly and follow me."

The girl holding my hand, her wings bound tightly to her back, whispers, "We don't have any belongings, miss."

I try to smile at her. "Well then, we'll make this nice and quick, won't we?"

"How are we going to escape?" she asks, blinking at me with wide, blue eyes that remind me of Alana somehow.

I try to shift the thought from my mind.

Alana, the one who is right now plotting to kill every Shadowkind left in the city, is not my Alana anymore. She is a stranger. A monster who has eaten the heart of Alana Leafborne and left darkness in its place. A chasmic black hole that is determined to swallow everything in its path.

"I'm not sure yet." I tweak my fingers under the girl's chin. "But we'll figure something out."

Leaving her to put on her tattered pair of shoes, I wait outside, leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

I don't know how to do this.

I have no idea how to take a school full of small fae children who can't fly and get them out of the city unseen by Eldrion's forces or by Alana.

The pair of them seem to share his ability to see now. But I don't know what that means. Can they see whatever they want? Will they know that I'm here and what I'm trying to do?

I wring my hands together in front of my stomach. I feel like I might vomit.

In fact, I am going to vomit.

Running over to the garbage can opposite the dormitory, I grip hold of it and vomit hard into its depths. The taste is hot and acrid in my mouth, and leaves me retching and panting for several moments after it's been expelled from my stomach.

When I'm done, I wipe my brow with my forearm and stand up. I straighten my shoulders, push back my wings, and nod determinedly. I can do this. I have no choice. Because I sure as hellfire am not leaving these children to die here.

I turn around, preparing myself to stride back to the door and pull it open with a smile on my face. But I don't need to; they are already standing behind me. Silent and trusting, dressed in their sad grey tunics, they are staring at me. All twenty of them. Waiting for me to free them from their fate.

"All right, everyone. We're going to move on foot through the city. I know it's going to be scary because you haven't been outside for such a long time. And because bad things have been happening." I draw in a deep breath. "The sky might look a bit scary. But, trust me, if we keep moving, everything will be okay."

No one makes a sound. Except for one small girl who sniffs loudly, already crying with the petrified anticipation of what's to come.

"Everyone pick a buddy and hold hands. You're in charge of your buddy. You keep them next to you always, okay? No one gets left behind."

"What happens when we get out of the city?" asks the girl with the blue eyes.

I force a smile, and try to make it look real. "When we get out of the city, we are free. Easy street," I say, laughing. "And you'll love it. The forests, the lakes. It'll be wonderful."

I try not to think about the fact that Finn and Alana, if they carry on the way they're going, are likely to destroy the entire kingdom. Forests, lakes, everything.

Or wonder whether Alana's hatred of us, and her fear of us, and her newfound desire for vengeance, would see her fury reach beyond the walls of Luminael.

I have to believe it wouldn't.

I have to believe she'd let us go if we made it that far, or that someone else would help us. Surely, if we made it to the mountains, the fae there would not turn away a group of children?

Surely, someone will come to our aid?

The sky is now completely dark. A deep, velvety purple that under any other circumstances would be beautiful – but tonight simply fills me with terror.

As we move through the Shadow Quarter, I expect it to be silent. For everyone to be hiding behind closed doors, shuttered up, sleeping.

But word spreads quickly.

The mistress from the orphanage might not have cared about saving the children in her charge, but she certainly got word out because – all around me – Shadowkind fae are tumbling out of their houses with belongings in makeshift bags and sacks.

Some are trying to load wagons, others are just taking off on foot.

Most are heading for the forests.

But I know what lies there, and I am not taking the children to the scene of Finn's crimes.

No, we are heading for the ocean. We'll cross the bridge that leads away from Luminael, follow the beach along the shoreline, and then go to the mountains.

The mountains feel safe. They feel out of reach, even though I know they are not.

Squeezing the hand of the girl next to me, I lean in to whisper in her ear.

I tell her the plan, and make her promise that if something happens to me, she will help her friends get there. "You just keep on following the shoreline. Do you understand?"

She looks at her friend, a small boy whose hand she's holding. When she looks back at me, she nods. "I understand." The strength in her voice makes me smile.

"Good girl." I stroke her hair. "And when you get to the mountains, you unbind your wings. Do you hear?" I say firmly.

"You'll be with us, though, won't you?" she asks, pushing back her shoulders in an attempt to look brave.

"Of course, I will. This is just in case we get separated." I gesture to her friends. "Now, pass the message along so that everyone knows."

Smiling a little – pleased to be given some responsibility – she does as I've asked and passes the message amongst her friends. It spreads like autumn leaves on a cool breeze. And soon they all look a little brighter.

There is a plan.

They will live happily in the mountains with their unbound wings and the kind mountain fae who take them in.

What a wonderful dream.

I blink tears from my eyes and comb my fingers through my hair.

How did it come to this?

Someone pushes past us, shoving the children out of the way in their hurry to leave the Shadow Quarter. I yell at them, but they don't look back.

Panic is starting to spread.

The bridge is in sight now, and the moon is shining brightly.

"There..." I smile and inhale deeply. "We're almost out of the city."

A ripple of excitement spreads through the children and their pace quickens. In their pairs, they scurry onto the bridge. There are a few other Shadowkind heading in this direction, but they do not stop and do not acknowledge me or the children.

No one asks if we need help.

No one questions where we are going.

We are in the middle of the bridge when it starts to shake.

The children stop. Several of them release scared squeaks that sound almost kitten-like in their pitch.

I brace my hand on the side of the bridge and turn back towards the citadel. The castle looms large against the dark sky. A shadow. Barely visible, but beating with a blackness that makes me shudder.

Matching the rhythm of my heart, the bridge shakes again.

The children hurry to the sides and grip on to steady themselves. It creaks.

I peer over the edge. The water is moving faster than it should. Far too fast. As if it can't get back to the ocean quickly enough.

"What's that?" the girl with the blue eyes points in the direction of the castle.

I follow her gaze.

Something is moving towards us. A wall of darkness.

My first thought is of Finn's shadows, but then I realise it is too solid to be shadows. It is not air we are looking at; it is water.

A raging wall of water.

Heading straight for us.

"She's flooding the city," I whisper. "Now the Sunborne are gone, she has no reason not to."

"What's happening?" one of the children cries.

"Run!" I scream at the top of my voice. "Everyone run! Now!"

There is trembling moment of hesitation, and then they do as I say. They run as fast as their small legs can carry them, but it's not fast enough. I spin around to see buildings, and trees, and life being swallowed by the tsunami of liquid hate that is coming for us.

It's going to take us.

It's going to eat us alive.

My wings flutter. But they are not strong enough to fly, and certainly not quick enough to carry twenty children to safety.

Is the bridge strong enough to withstand Alana's flood? I have no idea, but it is our only option.

"Everyone stop! Climb!" I grab the blue-eyed girl and haul her up onto the support beam that rises up and turns into the bridge's large timbre arc. "Climb as high as you can and hang on. Don't let go. Help your friends!"

I run along the bridge, helping each child up so they can grip on and start to climb.

The roar of the flood fills my ears. Cracking, creaking, breaking, the city bends to its will. Surely, the bridge will not survive.

"Hang on! Whatever happens, hang on!" I call, grabbing onto a pillar as the water hits.

It is so loud and so strong that it takes my breath away. The force, the power. I can't breathe. It batters my legs, my stomach, my arms. But it does not reach the children. Not yet.

My hands are growing slick, losing their grip.

"Briony! Climb up! I'll pull you up!" the blue-eyed girl calls, reaching for me.

I can't let go. If I do, that will be it.

"You just hold on!" The water is rising higher. It is so cold. I can't feel my legs or my feet. My hair is plastered against my face. My hand slips. Only one hand remains. I try to dig in my nails, but my fingers are too slick, too weak.

I try.

I try.

And then I fail.

I'm underwater, tumbling in the flood's grip.

My vision starts to darken at the edges.

My last thought before the darkness takes me is a prayer – not for myself, but for Alana. I pray that someday, somehow, she'll find her way back to the light. That she'll remember the person she used to be.

Then the water fills my lungs, and everything fades away.