Utter anguish.
Utter agony.
Utterly alone.
That is what I hear in her cry.
I’m rooted to the spot, unable to tear my feet out of the sand or my eyes from her crumpled form. I barely saw the branch before it ran the criminal through.
No, not a criminal—Adena.
Confusion clouds my thoughts as another one of Paedyn’s cries cuts through the air. Adena shouldn’t have been here. She was no prisoner of mine, and she certainly was no criminal worthy of this death.
Paedyn is sinking into the sand, rocking back and forth as she clutches the lifeless form of her best friend against her chest. I heard countless stories about the two of them together during the first Trial. Paedyn’s love for her friend was evident then, but now it’s written all over her face, riddled with each cry. I never imagined I would see her weep, but even the strongest among us break down, burdened and buried by grief.
I want to go to her. Want to wrap my arms around her, distract her, comfort her in the way I know I should but am unsure how. Hurt is what I know how to do, not what I know how to help.
The crowd has irrupted in cheers and chants. Blair steps farther into the circle, grinning at the gruesome act she’s committed. She’s just won this Trial and the crowd praises her for it.
It’s over.
It’s all over.
I step towards Paedyn and farther into the open ring. I glimpse Jax’s head peak out behind a wall before he Blinks several feet into the circle. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of Andy staggering into the circle, fully human and coated in blood. She’s clutching her head, disoriented after finally being able to shift back. The pain from the wounds I inflicted most likely jolted her mind, allowing her to think clearly enough to turn again.
I’m close enough to Paedyn now that I can see the tears streaking down her face, trailing through the dirt and blood coating her skin. Her forehead is pressed against her friends with her eyes squeezed shut and sobs shaking her body.
The cries of the crowd are deafening as I deftly make my way to her, ready to drop to my knees and—
Something about the stomping crowd shifts.
The shouts of elation and excitement turn to hideous screams of horror. I was too focused on Paedyn to hear it earlier, but now the sound crashes into me, confuses me.
I hear the shout of a panting Imperial nearby, sounding winded as though he ran here. “The tunnels! They came through the tunnels into the box!”
I swivel around, nearly as frantic as the crowd filling the stands. They are all shouting at once, trapped in their seats by black-masked figures blocking the exits from each of the stands. And with the Mute covering them, the people have no power to fight back. My eyes sweep over their scared faces before they land on the glass box where my parents and Kitt reside.
And then I see it. See them.
The Resistance.
A man is standing beside my father wearing a black mask and pressing a knife to his throat. There are other members of the Resistance in the box, surrounding the king and queen and Kitt. They are holding them almost lazily, all gripping daggers in their hands though they don’t look like they intend to use them. Which can only mean one thing.
They are Silencers.
Maybe even other Fatals.
Otherwise, my father would have torn their limbs off by now, Kitt would have lit them on fire, and Mother would have helped by electrocuting them if it weren’t for their powers being suppressed or controlled.
I can barely make out their twisted faces, grimacing with the weight of a Fatal’s power crushing them. But I know the agony all too well. The agony of everything you are being suppressed as the very power you possess is stripped away from you. I know that face they are wearing because I’ve worn it many times before.
They are being smothered by Silencers.
And then so am I.
