All That Falls

Epilogue

I gripped the russet marble beneath my fingers and listened to the sounds of forks scraping against plates with my jaw clenched and my head held high.

My mother had crafted the same sort of manacled chair for me in the dining room as she had in the throne room. So now I was shackled at the end of the table, my mother and father on either side, eating in complete silence, keeping their eyes focused on their plates and nothing more. My father, for his part, glanced up at me once or twice throughout the duration of the silent meal as if he could hardly believe I was actually here. He was worried about me. I could feel the concern emanating from the very core of his soul. A true paternal fear.

The only thing radiating from my mother was anger.

I did not say a word. Just kept my gaze focused on the opposite wall, gritting my teeth and spearing out silently with my magic against my manacles. But to no avail. So they forced me to take part in this ludicrous facade of a family dinner, this unholy exhibition of relative connection.

"Eat or not, as you wish," Ariadne snapped halfway through the course of her own dinner. "But you will drink."

Her eyes snapped to mine and narrowed.

I couldn't help but allow my gaze to flick to that menacing goblet sitting just a few inches from my plate. It was filled with a strange, clear liquid. Almost like water but more viscous. I knew it wasn't water. Nor was it any sort of spirit or mortal beverage. It was the Elixir. The one that my mother had undoubtedly started a war with the Bone Court just to get me to drink. My lip curled in disgust as I whipped my head back to face her.

"And how, precisely, am I supposed to eat or drink while shackled to this ridiculous chair?" I barked back.

"You have your magic," she sneered. "You made that plain enough in the throne room, didn't you? Since you're so capable, you should have no trouble."

I frowned, glaring at her as she turned back to her food. Did she know? Was she aware of just how little control I had over my magic? That explosion in the throne room had been the result of a volatile outward burst. I knew how to blow it up. I didn't know how to aim it. So the idea of wrapping that unpredictable force around something as small as a fork and bringing bits of meat and bread to my lips was control like I had never known. I suspected she knew that and was testing me. Would I rather starve than admit to her I had no control over my magic? I thought, perhaps, I might.

"Why do this?" I asked after another moment of silence. "Why go to all this trouble? Why make us immortal at all?"

"You're my family," she replied simply, her soft voice so at odds with her usual bitterness.

"No," I replied, making sure my glare was as cold as I could make it. "I'm not."

Ariadne was on her feet in an instant. Her chair scraped against the marble below, letting out an earsplitting groan in the otherwise silent hall. She stomped toward me, heels clicking against that same hard stone, and reached for the goblet.

My father tensed, knuckles turning white where he held his fork above his plate.

"Where is my father?" Ariadne murmured, her voice low, dangerous.

"I don't know," I answered for the tenth time. She had asked me every hour on the hour since the moment he disappeared and I had given no other answer but this.

"You know where they would have taken him. Tell me."

"I'd rather die."

"And here I am, making sure you live," she mused, shrugging her shoulder. In one quick motion, her hand shot out and gripped my chin. She pried my jaw open, squeezing so hard I knew I would bruise. She leaned forward with a wicked grin and whispered, "Forever."

The moment the elixir touched my tongue, I felt the change. It began on the tip of my tongue, numbing, slithering. It wasn't just a draught. It was a living thing. Poking, prodding, searching. I looked to my father to find that his eyes were closed now as he faced away from me, his head bowed low to his plate.

"If you survive," she whispered, leaning in close to me as the elixir snaked down my throat, filling my esophagus with a liquid fire that plummeted straight down to my chest, "I will teach you how to control your magic and we can discuss this war you think is coming."

My eyes widened. She had read my thoughts. Throughout that terrible silent dinner, she had been listening to my innermost thoughts. I opened my mouth to respond but only an icy breath escaped. Her lip curled into a smirk of delight as she hefted herself off of the edge of the table and stood upright. She clapped her hands together once, whipping her head toward the soldiers that stood at attention near the doors.

"Fetch the healer," she commanded. "My daughter will need her. Richard, come."

With that, she strolled from the dining room, hips sashaying in that long, sparkling brown dress, blonde hair flowing behind her. My father watched her go, rising to obey her command.

I felt the burning sensation spreading out against my ribs, pushing against them, burning through my lungs, my stomach, my heart. I tried to gasp, but could no longer open my lips. It was as if someone had glued them shut. In a blind panic, I kicked out. My feet connected with the table and my chair went toppling backwards. My vision spotted when my head connected with the hard marble floor. One soldier lurched forward to help, but was held back by another's hand upon his arm. I kicked and flailed, eyes bulging, my breath a thin whistle through my nose.

"Fight it," my father was muttering. He was beside me now, kneeling on the floor next to me. "You have to fight the initial pain. You can breathe. You can. Just calm down. Just breathe."

My legs stilled. As did my arms except for a bit of twitching. I focused on that shrinking access to air and breathed heavily inward, mouth still firmly wired shut.

"Through your nose, that's it," my father was saying.

I was breathing now. It was a shaky wheeze but it was air and I was thankful for every morsel. I swiveled so that my wide eyes were on my father, taking in the mournful expression, the pitying gaze.

"It's going to hurt," he told me bluntly. "But you will have a choice."

My brows furrowed even as I fought another flare of that icy burn, screaming through my closed mouth as I writhed forward on the floor. My father pressed down with a hand, holding me still as I caught my breath again. The pain was agonizing. My body was going into shock, my consciousness blinking in and out.

"You have to want to survive, Seren," he said, his voice firm, willing me to hear him, to understand. "That's the only way to fight it."

My closed lips quivered, a tear sliding down my cheek as my heart became encased in that icy blaze. I screamed again, falling into sobs this time. My vision blurred around the edges.

"I will understand whatever choice you make," he whispered, much softer than anything he had said before.

Then he was standing, striding out of that dining room and leaving me to whatever fate this elixir had in store. I wept silently, my lips stuck together, my chest a fiery inferno. Then I heard a crack and thought I might have split open right there in the middle of the dining room. I heard the gasp of a trained soldier as I fell prey to the utter darkness of unconsciousness.

THE END.

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