It is hot in the Pit.
Again, I suppose thatโs to be expected.
I wake to the sound of stomping feet. The chanting of thousands has my ears ringing as my senses slowly hum to life. After struggling to blink open my heavy eyelids, I startle at the sight of hedges looming around me.
Staggering to my feet proves to be rather di cult with my wrists now bound behind my back and my ankles bound beneath me. I gawk at the hedges surrounding me, gulp at the sounds coming from beyond the dense foliage. At least I donโt have to look at my 1ngers anymore. Though they ache so badly that itโs impossible to forget what they look like. I do my best to ignore the image of cracked bones and swollen knuckles that persistently Rashes in my mind.
Iโm dreaming. I must be.
This is all just a nightmare. Pae will wake me soon with her 1ngers sweeping back my sweaty bangs. And then we will sit and stare at the stars from behind our Fort. Because that is where I am. That is where I want to be.
But that is not this place.
This place is hot sand beneath my bare feet and sun trickling down through the vines above my head. This place is a wall of greenery, a cage of foliage folding in on me. This place is foreign and familiar all at once.
My eyes widen with realization. This place really is the Pit.
Why am I in the Pit? I canโt possibly be in the Pit. Today must be the 1nal Trial andโ
Did I wake up in the 1nal Trial? I couldnโt haveโฆ I mean, why would I beโฆ?
I spin in a slow circle, struggling against the shackles binding my ankles together. My head is pounding from whatever it was that knocked me out, making my vision eerily hazy.
Thundering feet and growing cheers are my only indication that the Trial has begun.
So I stand there. Stunned and still and silently hoping this is all in my head. Pae will 1nd me. Sheโll know what to do. She always knows what to do.
Sweat rolls down my face. My 1ngers throb. My head aches. My stomach growls.
Time seems to slow. I hear a mu ed scream and spin in its direction.
That terror couldnโt have belonged to Paedyn. No, because sheโs strong and safe and probably standing right beyond these hedges, about to 1nd me.
Patience has never been a quality Iโve possessed.
493.
Iโve started counting the seconds out of sheer boredom. My legs are shaking, feeling unsteady beneath me.
494, 495, 495โฆ
Iโm not sure what this Trial is supposed to be, but Iโm pretty sure I have the worst seat.
Itโs di cult to ignore my throbbing 1ngers, or the nagging thought that I was thrown into this Trial for a reason.
What could they want with a useless seamstress?
521, 522, 523โฆ
Pae will win this. Her prize will be 1nding me.
Shouts echo from every direction, chanting names I canโt make out. Do they know Iโm here? Do they see me struggling to stay standing? The world begins spinning around second 547.
My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow.
552.
Any second now. Sheโll save me any second now.
The corners of my vision are creeping in on me, making it feel as though Iโm looking through a long tunnel.
I just want to wake up so I can see the stars.
Iโm so dizzy that I almost donโt see the 1gure running towards me. โAdena?โ
Her voice cuts through the haze of pain. My Pae has found me.
Sheโs bounding towards me, sand Rying from her heels. Iโm so Rooded with relief that I sink to my knees, smiling at her blurry form. โPaedyn!โ I shout, attempting to stand. But the look on her face has me faltering.
Why does she look so upset? Sheโs won.
Maybe Iโve worried her with my disappearance. The thought has me spewing an apology, frantically trying to make her understand where Iโve been. โPae, Iโm so sorry. Iโโ
This second feels longer than all the ones prior. This one feels like 1re.
Fatal.
Like the beginning of the end.
Pain blooms in my chest, burns through my body.
I take my time looking down at what is to be the end of me.
I blink at the bloody branch that has found its way through my chest, vaguely wondering how it got there.
Everything feels dull, muted like the scream that tears from a throat that isnโt mine.
My eyes slowly 1nd their way to the girl sprinting towards me, watching the scream form on her lips but never hearing it leave them.
She catches me before I hit the sand. Iโm being cradled in arms I wish I could feel. Fingers are brushing away my bangs, and I manage a smile at the familiar feeling.
Sheโs always there to wake me from my nightmares, to push uneven bangs from my eyes.
I sense the pain racking my body rather than feel it. Like knowing when your heart has broken without needing to feel it shatter.
I keep my eyes on her. My strong Pae. Sheโs telling me Iโm going to be 1ne. I know Iโm not.
I may be dying, but Iโm not dumb.
Sheโs promising me sticky buns now. Says sheโll feed me so many that Iโll grow sick of them. We both know thatโs a lie. My love for sticky buns will die with me.
Die.
What a silly word, one I typically associate with the color of my fabrics. How odd it is to assign three little letters to the end of my existence.
โโฆ you have to promise me youโll stayโโ
Her mu ed words pierce me harder than the branch jutting from my chest. โPae.โ I take a shaky breath. โYou know I donโt make promises I canโt keep.โ
I donโt hear much of what she says next. Her tears are splattering my face, though I canโt feel them through the blanket of numbness smothering my body. Sheโs just as stubborn as always, denying the death that is so obviously coming to claim me.
That is the one thing I do feel. The brush of Deathโs 1ngers down my face, like a calming caress. I thought I would be frightened of him and the end heโs dragging me towards. But itโs comforting in a way, being fully aware that this is the end.
โPromise youโll wear it for me?โ
The words slip from my mouth, blood quickly following. Through blurry vision, I see the question on her face more than hear it from her lips. โThe vest,โ I choke out. โTh-The green one with the pockets.โ Death is shushing me, but I speak over him. โThe stitching took me ages, and Iโd hate for all myโฆ h-hard work to go to waste.โ
Itโs the last piece of me left.
The last physical piece of my passion in life.
No. Thereโs Mak. He is my passion in life. And I only wish for them both to wear my vests when Iโm gone, tethering them to me for eternity.
But I say none of this.
She promises. She pleads. She pulls me closer.
Sheโs so good. Iโm not sure she knows how good she is. How her worth is so much more than what power is or isnโt running through her veins.
Iโve never thought of her as anything less than extraordinary. My eyelids grow heavy, but I force them open.
Iโll have plenty of time to rest when Iโm dead. Itโs peaceful, being pulled into the unknown. But leaving her is anything but.
I claw against Death, needing to speak one last time.
โThis is not a goodbyeโฆ only a good way to say bye until I see you next.โ With numb lips, I leave her with that.
I wonder if Iโll be able to watch over her when I get to wherever Death is taking me.
He better let me watch over her.
The taste of blood is bitter in my mouth, but the smile I muster for her is sweet.
And then I count.
One, two, threeโฆ
Death is gentle in a way life never was.
I look up into the sky, seeing stars swim in my vision. What a beautiful night in the Fort.
Four, ๏ฌve, sixโฆ
Iโm counting the seconds until I see her next.
Iโm counting the stars until I see Mak shining beside me.
The stars wink at me, welcoming me home. And on second eight, I know nothing.
