I paused my pacing on the top of the boat and scowled.
If I could, I had better make myself useful. Dragging myself out of the dreamy trance I had fallen into, I jumped off the side of the boat, causing a poof of sand to rise up. And of course I still had no way to get the boat back up to the surface. How stupid, and how foolish, to vow that I could really do it. Maybe I could, but a vow was unbreakable, a secret where the punishment of spilling it was a lifelong curse.
Someone close to me had lost his life. His absence still left a hole in my heart that would never be filled. For the sake of a vow, I would not speak his name when I still blamed myself for that unmoving white body in a marble coffin.
How naïve, to promise on my eternal soul, and exchange for a dream that might be forever out of my grasp. In that magical world above the clouds, anything was possible. In that place where pastel unicorns nibbled on emerald grass and fairies frolicked in rolling fields of golden wheat, where the most absurdly cheerful leprechauns really existed, waiting at the end of a sparkling rainbow with a pewter pot heaped with gold. Such an ostentatious existence, a world where candy was the currency.
But in a world where things were paid with hard earned cash, things weren't so easy. If they were, I would stride right to the end of that glittering bridge of colour, pick up the gold and leave. I'd go to some god, pray and my dreams would be answered. No, it wasn't that easy.
But I could.
I could try, at least.
Swimming was so easy, somehow. It felt vastly odd, as I had once had to learn and train to swim fast and easily. But it seemed, once I stepped through the mystical portal of Agecoming, everything happened all at once and my life was never the same. The only thing that I'd wished for as a child was to be able to travel beyond the choking, confining borders of Kaleveh. To do so without repercussions. As an even younger child, I had likely only wanted for an endless supply of candy, maybe make the droning officials shut up. What did I wish for now? That demons didn't exist, that Grandma and Mama were still okay, that my mountains of perhaps useless queries wouldn't go unanswered, and while a life without troubles was too much to ask for, a life where I wasn't scared out of my wits every second would be good enough. What did I wish for? A life that wasn't domineered by demanding gods who could change destinies at every turn, a place to live in peace without demons pursuing my Gifts. Certainly, being able to control my Gifts was a good place to start.
All the fire in the world wouldn't work beneath the sea. But earth would.
One slip of the leash I had on the churning sea of emotion that lay deep within me, and perhaps a mini island would form.
Pointing was an extra, someone had once told me. Be a strong enough leader, one that people respected for not power or money but goodwill, have an enough commanding presence and anyone I spoke to would listen.
It didn't stop me from directing my forefinger over a spiral shell lying on the sea floor. All I wanted to do was cover it, see if I could muster enough control to do that and not create a pillar of sand. Of course, I could just ask Alderhawke to do it, but what if he was occupied with whatever immortal gods did when they had free time? What was the point in being Gifted if you just asked? What if you asked, and out of spite, that god or goddess blew the nearest bit of land to smithereens? It was much safer to guide the elements we were blessed and cursed with by ourselves.
The power lay in me now, all I had to do was learn to use it.
I pointed.
Nothing happened; the sand stirred, and the water rippled as if laughing, but nothing happened. If only I had someone with me who could teach me, how had Mama done it? Another question I might never get the answer to.
And where did the magic come from? How did I create the earth and fire where before there was—nothing? How did I mould it to my heart's desire? I squatted down, bobbing on my ankles. I stared at the conch shell as if I could summon the earth if I just stared hard enough.
I needed someone who could teach me. Did anyone with the power to do that exist? If any, they had to be in the Calbron Mountains, holed up in that one safeguarded destination. For once, I felt anger towards them, those who had made it there, even though I knew they had likely suffered as I was suffering. Did they know, that outside of their little bubble, that Gifted all the way across the world were being targeted, their coveted magic stolen and fed on? That people were still dying in their quest to reach their perfect magic society across the pond? They could not have bothered to open a safe house of the same kind in Sereia, or in Eidamaine, or Gidrkae, once the numbers of trained magic-wielders had increased? They had made it through the same hardships as I, but they were turning a blind eye to those who were still going through these obstacles that would forever be stacked higher and higher upon the shoulders of each Gifted person, when more and more demons were summoned through the portal.
Why? Why, why?
My legs began to shake, something buried deep inside churning and uprooting.
Why?
I swayed on the spot.
Horrible things happened sometimes. But I was not great, I was not particularly good or important. My destiny was not a tragic death or a heroic victory.
I collapsed to my knees on the sand, barely feeling the slight sting of the shell shards and sand grains.
"Please," I begged. Begged to anyone who would listen miles under the sea. It was a wonder I could speak underwater without swallowing water with every word, but I did it anyway,
"Please," I pleaded again. I had never been one to cry. At his funeral, I had stood silently in the corner, a white rose clasped in my hands as everyone else sniffled into silken handkerchiefs. I had not cried either, when my maternal grandmother passed on. I bit my lip and concentrated elsewhere when I hurt myself. Perhaps it was the rule, that a Chief must set the example even in war, even in peril and even in pain. But I could not summon tears. They didn't come naturally to me.
Perhaps even then, I knew that the worst was still to come. That energy was wasted on tears.
I did not cry for myself. But as I looked upon the tiny half-moons forever imprinted on my palms, the scars that would linger for evermore, a hidden, ancient barrier cracked.
And with the sorrow that surged from my heart, it shattered completely.
I had not faced it, even when I withdrew further and further into myself, when bits of me started chipping away and falling into the sea. I had not faced it as I did now, when that innermost bit of self suddenly disintegrated, its pieces lost in the overwhelming expanse of water. When my mama left, the outer part of me had broken, too. That part that I was not afraid to show anyone, the parts where all the normal doubts and fears were. That part had been ground into dust, stripping away my outer shell, the shield of being a Chieftess. Now I was a nobody who was Gifted by two gods. Now only the inner part of me remained, that beast of fragility and feelings. Maybe I was an old soul, but I felt too old for the sixteen-year-old I was supposed to be.
I had not faced it all these days. I cupped a hand over my mouth, but it did nothing to muffle my sobbing. I did not understand how heroines in stories could possibly stay strong for so long, able to hold out from the most vulnerable bits of self they protected. They were stories, sword-wielding assassins, and spectacularly talented half-gods. They did not seem human.
I had not faced it, even as the truth ate away at me, even as I fell into that never-ending abyss of despair, of hopelessness. Even as the darkness, the grief and the anger swallowed me up whole. I thought I could not be degraded further.
So, I let it.
Even as I raged against my poor, poor mother who was as good as dead for leaving me. Did I not deserve to be left alone? That blast of power I had shown to the world—it could've easily shown the demons where to find us. Where to find my home. It could just have summoned the Branokann. Even as I raged against the gods, against myself, against the world, I had not come to terms with that realisation, that kernel of honesty I had not yet dared to uncover, even as it was made all too real by my solitary expedition.
I had no one left.
I was utterly alone.
I was so, so alone in the world, with not a soul to turn to. Mama and Grandma were gone and Father was out of my reach. He was gone, had been for years, and Saoirse had left me long ago.
I still knelt in the sand, my knees digging two divots into the layer of minerals coating the bottom of the ocean, head bowed.
For the first time in many years, moisture leaked from the edges of my eyes. A torrent, a flood as I had never felt before washed over my fingers, clamped to my cheeks. I shook my head over and over again, refusing to feel the torment. I screamed, sobbed until my throat was raw, unleashed my anger upon the world. Let them feel my pain. Let them choose to turn a blind eye. Let them trample all over me.
I writhed on the seabed, dabbing at my puffy eyes. It hurt me, to hurt myself, but they had to know. Peel myself apart and watch when they did nothing. Watch them wonder what they could've done to help, watch their fake shock when I said, you hurt me. I was scared, and you told me to get over it. I was afraid and you scoffed in my face.
Let them ignore my cry for help.
Let them tell me I am a weakling.
Let them push me down.
Let me claw their eyes open and tell them once I was your everything. You reduced me to nothing. Let me show them their own cruelty. Let me guide them through the rubble of what was once us. The ruins of what was once our home, the broken lamp where there used to shine light.
The bond was closer to snapping than ever before. I had opened my eyes too late, and the world was starving. Sunlight beamed down, but light flickered. Money passed easily from hand to hand, but wealth was depleted. Greed flourished and need multiplied. Lives increased, but every day, more and more people tumbled invisibly from the cliff where life stood precariously.
I had overseen these things for so long. Too long. Never again.
For people had always looked up to me. Noticed who stood in front of them. But they had never noticed me, nearly never. They saw the authority, the azure eyes, but not the veil, never truly through the pretence.
They asked, "Are you okay?" But never pressed further when I replied, "Fine."
My tears unbalanced me.
I stumbled in line, and the last thing I saw was hands clamouring to make way for themselves, not noticing when they shoved me over the edge.