Conquering The Unbroken

Chapter 19

She wanted to help. Figuring she had the power of an original witch, she used the opportunity to convert as many witches as she could. At least that's what they told me. The rebels that watched her appear on the battlefield shortly after I'd left her. They had thought nothing of it. Apparently, they believe she was there to do what she wanted to, and I hadn't told her to remain in one spot until I got back.

Silas had hidden underneath an illusion. I've figured out the rest. He realized what she was doing and had to put a stop to it—since they were the ones that crafted the plans, later revealed to me by Dalis, Silas knew there would be an original witch here, or the recreation of one, as Celestine was.

That's why they attacked us. Not to weaken our forces, but to kill her. One way or the other, a witch holding the power of an original was to die last night. And the fact I didn't realize that from the start is my mistake. She's gone now and there's nothing I can do to bring her back.

The softest, kindest man in the kingdom is the one that killed her. I won't hold that over Silas's head if we manage to get him back, the guilt swarming his thoughts will be enough to do the job for me.

Silas cared for her the most. Of all the people in the castle he wanted to protect, Celestine was at the top of that list for her innocence and gentle nature through the power of gardens. Everything changed when she took the power of an original witch, making her limitless beyond the stretch of magic.

I wasn't the one that eased the knife from her chest. Renit did it for me when we brought her into our residence and laid her on the table where we eat our food. Now I can't imagine the surface holding anything other than her sprawled body. After the weapon was gone, I cleaned the wound with shaking hands until Dalis came in, tears flowing down her umber cheeks, and finished the job for me even if it broke her heart to do so.

Tesha and Citlali remained silent last night. They stood in the doorway, their shoulders leaning against either side of the frame, and watched as I broke down time and time again until I couldn't stand anymore and the floor in the kitchen became my permanent residence. Bren sat by me through it all, shedding tears of his own, and clutched my hand so tight it's still numb.

The warm breeze on the cliffsides doesn't help me today. Neither does the blue sky littered with puffed white clouds. For once, the waters below are gentle. It's as if the world knows of Celestine's passing and to honor her spirit, they've crafted her favorite day. There's nothing more 'Celestine' than the view of the world in front of me. The sparkling sun on the water's surface, the birds cawing in the distance, the grasses swaying behind me.

The smell of freshly turned over dirt carries over in that breeze. This one, sadly enough, doesn't smell like my power. I turn my neck—sore from crying—to the right to look down at the dark dirt in the shape of a perfect rectangle. It's a break in the swaying grasses and stands out like a sore thumb with the outline of rocks around the outside, but it's a grave Celestine would've wanted.

She never told me where she wanted me to bury her; if I was to live longer due to the possible mortality from her power of gardens. I assume this is what she wanted. It's what my parents wanted and if I can't give that to them as much as I might want to, I'll give it to Celestine instead.

The effort to turn back towards the ocean burns my eyes. Every move is stiff, every breath is shaken, and every time I think about her limp body in my arms, another piece of me chips away, never to be found again.

We're not close to cleaning up the destruction that happened last night. There are still plenty of bodies waiting for their mass grave somewhere on the cliffsides. We'll grant them that, at least. The courtesy of a grave. I didn't have the strength to dig Celestine's, Bren did it instead, but Citlali will aid in the effort of digging into the roots to pull up a chunk large enough to hide the rest of our losses.