Chapter 18

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A shaken gasp releases from my throat, tears welling in my eyes, my entire body going rigid. I've watched my father lose his head to an axe, I've watched my mother reach the same fate, but this...Celestine isn't moving.

As if it's part of her body, attached to her since the day she was born, the handle of the knife sticks straight into the air—perfectly straight and splattered with blood. Even through my stiffening fog, I recognize it. Renit isn't the only one fond of collecting weapons. Silas did the same, and I recognize the handle to belong to him.

I stand there, completely frozen as the battlefield continues to stretch on. The bodies moving around me are blurred and lost to my mind, and I can't recognize them—I don't want to. I don't have the strength to.

Time slows. Celestine's blood-stained and mud-caked hand stretches out towards me, but her reach isn't alive. Her fingers are curled in against her palm, delicately resting in their final minutes of warmth. My sister, more delicate than anything I've ever laid eyes on and the most beautiful creature to walk this land...her legs are twisted underneath her.

Running boots sound from behind me and I don't have to look to know who arrives. Renit looks at my face first, blotched red and stricken with tears, his touch grazing my arm to show me he's there. Through the shattering of my heart, I hardly notice him. His voice is blocked out in my head, merely a muffle to the loud ringing inside my skull.

I can't move. I can't breathe. I can't speak. As if Celestine's life left, taking my ability to do anything with it...part of my heart tears from within—ripped without care.

Renit looks, his head slowly turning to find what I can't stop looking at. Her eyes are open. As if she knew I'd stand here; in her final breaths she turned to look at me one last time, even if I wasn't there to watch her fade.

As quickly as it's there, Renit's touch vanishes. His guilt washes over to me and as frozen as I am, he becomes the same. The witch I've grown to love doesn't try to talk, doesn't try to console, doesn't try to do anything other than wait for me to burst. I can feel my strength slowly giving out, my ability to stand and breathe without shuddering.

From underneath me, my feet move in Celestine's direction. A sob cracks loose and my sanity unravels to reveal a crippling, struggling witch underneath. I grapple for a foothold inside my mind but I can't find one. I'm falling; falling faster than anyone will catch me. But I don't hold out my reach for anyone.

My shoulders slump forward as I walk towards her. Through the tears, I step over bodies and discarded weapons left behind by the rebels and the king's men. Without a second thought, my body moves for me. If it wasn't for that, I would still stand next to Renit.

For my sake, he doesn't follow me. His presence is still there, watching me helplessly with a lump stuck in his throat. I can sense it. His guilt. This time, he keeps it to himself for mine is already filling every crevice of my being.

I told her to stay. I told her to stay in the community kitchens but she didn't listen to me. I speak my inner thoughts through sobs, and as I get closer, my soul finally crashes to rock bottom. I don't climb to the bright light of the world searching for my reentry. Instead, I drop to my knees at Celestine's side without a care for the force I do it with.

My hands shake as they hover over the knife sticking out of her chest, the blood puddle seeping into the handwoven gown she wears. One crafted by my mother. I don't know how many times I told her to wear something else, to borrow something from someone, so I could wash the dress. Celestine always told me, no, and I had the audacity—the foolish audacity—to get mad at her for disobeying me when all I wanted to do was help.

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