Chapter 27

Darvian’s sword broke apart, the nanos flying back into his mechpaks. He dropped to his knees as he watched Fiona go limp in her father’s arms. He stared at his hands and wondered how things could’ve happened like this.

“Fiona,” he whispered in a voice full of anguish and pain. He watched as Milo gently laid her on the carpet. Her eyes were closed and he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not. “Fiona, no. No. NO. Open your eyes. Just open your eyes.”

He tried to move closer to her but Milo shoved him back with a push hard enough to send him tumbling.

“Stay away from her!” he shouted, his gravelly voice frightening. “If you even breathe in her direction, I’ll kill you.”

King Rowan rushed over and knelt next to Fiona’s body. The wound she’d taken was gushing blood. There was so much of it he couldn’t get a sense of the damage. He looked at Dr. Taren.

“Get over here!” he shouted, causing the woman to jump and her two little girls to start crying.

She got off the floor, whispering words to her girls first, and then made her way over to Fiona.

“There’s still time. Heal her!” King Rowan looked at Fiona. She was starting to go very pale. A few more minutes without treatment and she would die.

“Save her. Save her please,” Darvian wailed.

Milo got up and walked over to where Darvian sat huddled in on himself. He reached down with his misshapen hand and yanked the boy off the ground.

Darvian didn’t fight him. He didn’t have any fight left. His eyes were glued to Fiona as she struggled to hang onto her life.

“Look at me, boy,” Milo said, harshly.

Darvian didn’t want to, but he couldn’t seem to help it. His head jerked up and their eyes met.

“I want you to leave Edaeri. The only reason why you aren’t dead right now is because of my daughter. I know how much she loves you. But if you stay here, I can’t promise that I won’t tear your limbs off one by one.”

Milo let go of Darvian who just stood there with a blank look on his face. His legs were wobbling badly as his vacant gaze fixated even more on Fiona.

“Go!” Milo shouted.

Dr. Taren’s daughters cried even harder at the noise. She tried hard to tune them out as she explored Fiona’s wound with her nanos.

King Rowan went to Darvian. He put his hands on the boy’s shoulders and got him to look at him.

“You should go. I think it’s for the best,” he told him.

Darvian didn’t say anything back but he nodded his head slightly. He turned and started walking out of the room. When he was at the conference room’s door, he looked back over his shoulder at Dr. Taren.

“Save her,” he said.

She gave him a nod.

Darvian went out the door and started running. He flew down the stairs because he couldn’t stand to wait for the lift. The only thing he kept seeing in his mind was his sword plunging into Fiona’s chest. He could still hear the slight gasp of shock escaping her throat. He could still see the pain and disbelief in her eyes.

My fault, his mind said, the simple statement like a hammer bashing into his heart. She could die and it’s my fault.

He didn’t stop running until he was out of the building and standing on the decimated, crumbling edge of the city. He stared at the ocean surging around the cytium reinforced posts that supported Edaeri.

Do it, his mind whispered. End it now. Everything you love is gone. Fiona. Your father. Soon, even your mother and sister.

The voice was insidious. It preyed on his fears and his weaknesses. It made him think that jumping into the ocean and letting himself be lost forever was the only option. He could imagine its dark depths pulling him down deeper and deeper as his lungs burned with a need for air. But then it would end. Darkness would take over and all the pain, all the pain of living, would just be gone. Forever.

Like the pain of knowing what I did to Fiona, he thought.

It was so tempting. He hated himself for admitting that. He hated himself for even entertaining the notion of jumping from the edge and into the water but he couldn’t help it. Knowing that he was capable of hurting Fiona that way was unbearable. Knowing that he could let himself be so lost in anger that he was willing to hurt anyone that stood in his way made him feel like…like a monster.

He was as bad as the creature.

Milo. His name is Milo Rosburg and he’s not the monster, you are! that inner voice said. You killed Fiona.

She’s not dead! he yelled back. They’ll save her.

It doesn’t change what happened, monster! It doesn’t change the fact that your sword pierced her chest and that your hand guided it. She’ll never forgive you. And you don’t deserve to be forgiven. You don’t deserve to share the same air as her.

Stop it! Stop torturing me.

Why? You deserve that too and you know it. Just jump. Get it over with, coward. What are you waiting for?

I don’t want to die.

And why not? What have you got to live for?

He thought about that question for a long time. Already he missed Fiona. He missed her warmth. He missed her fiery spirit. He missed her laugh and humor.

More than anything, though, he missed her love.

But he wasn’t giving up on himself. He wasn’t giving up on a chance to gain her forgiveness.

He flipped through his blueprints until he found his flightpack. He engaged it without hesitation and jetted into the sky. It was an eight hour trip to the mainland, but he didn’t care. It would give him the chance to think. The best place to do that, he thought to himself, was Dare. A month ago he’d talked with his mother and sister and learned that they were staying with his aunt and uncle there. He’d find them and try to get his head right again.

It was as good a place as any to clear his mind.

Fiona woke up close to five hours later. She could feel pain in her chest but it was distant and far away. She looked around for a second but everything swam in front of her vision. Her head felt dizzy but at the same time, she found she sort of liked it. She glanced down at herself. She was dressed in a pale green hospital gown. Her bare feet poked out of the end of it and she twirled her toes experimentally. In her right hand was a needle attached to an IV drip. On her left hand was a different needle attached to a different IV drip.

She laughed.

“Fiona?” a voice asked. It was a strange voice. It was rough, like tree bark. It was deep too. And it was scary.

She turned her head in the direction of the voice. For a second, she couldn’t really tell what she was looking at. It was mostly just a shape, indistinct and without characteristics. Then her eyes slowly started to focus.

The shape gained definition and she could finally see it.

Her first instinct was to scream, but she stifled it immediately. The thing next to her looked like a monster. Its face and features looked like a child’s attempt at making a human figure out of clay. Everything was unbalanced and warped.

But it wasn’t a monster.

It was her father.

She smiled at him.

“What happened?” she asked. Her memory was extremely foggy at this point.

“I…,” Milo started but he hesitated.

Fiona, despite her drug-induced euphoria, felt panic hit her. The memories were starting to come back now.

“Darvian?” she asked.

Milo looked at her for a long time, his face sad.

“He went crazy. You got between us.” Milo stopped again. He grabbed Fiona’s hand, caressing it gently. “He almost killed you.”

Fiona couldn’t say anything. She was so dumbfounded. Vaguely, she could remember the fight between Darvian and her father. She remembered getting between them. Then, she remembered the look on Darvian’s face as he drove the point of his sword into her body.

The anger and hate on his face in that moment caused her to burst into tears.

Milo grabbed her and hugged her as tightly as he dared, wishing he could make things better.

“Where is he?” she asked, her voice muffled.

“He left the city. We don’t know where he went,” Milo answered.

Fiona cried a little bit harder.