Emblems

Chapter 31: Rage

I need to get out. I need to get away. As the words she remembered echoed over and over in her mind she fought the Demons down the corridor, freeing up space for brief seconds till they closed in again.

Why?

I need to find Vortex, raze it to the ground. She grunted, flinging out her arm and catching a massive humanoid in the torso, opening up a cut in its abdomen.

Why?

For my parents. For the things I never had. For the things Emily put me through. A kind smile flashed for a second and all she could remember was that she’d thought that that upturning of the lips was fake, useless, a mere façade. But the longer the image stayed in her brain the more she thought that it was geniune, that it offered help, haven, safety. All that doesn’t matter anymore, right? I need to stop focusing on the things that aren’t important. I’m just a little lost, but now I understand. I don’t have to be suspicious anymore. I just have to follow the right path. And the right path is the one that the Delegates tell me to take.

 

There’d been a great slamming noise in her head, like a door that had been swinging closed in slow motion had finally fell into place, its lock twisted firmly, and the last, little, niggling voice in her head – the one that said no, this is wrong, wrong, wrong. Bring it back, it’s part of me! – was shut behind it, silenced, docile, tamed.

That voice had raged and fought and screamed itself hoarse since before all this, before the Delegates, before Camp, before Daniel and Calida. It had been a fury that rampaged in her veins, a pounding of never give up, don’t let them see, this trust is a lie, don’t let them in don’t get hurt don’t hurt anyone else. And for that it had raged, it had still been shoved away, stuffed in a box, ignored, forgotten.

She couldn’t hear it now, couldn’t hear its roaring, couldn’t rouse up any kind of determination to live. But when she tried to call it up again – this was battle and fighting and she needed it – other words came in its place:  she wouldn't have allowed me to carry her here, or curl up like a baby when things get tough. Stop acting like a helpless brat.

What the hell happened to me? Even her thoughts felt like the feral growls of a cornered animal. And just like one, she’d been backed into a wall, surrounded by threats, and was now plowing through them like a hot knife through butter, taking at least one down with every flick of her dagger.

You're not the Amber Starling I knew. Get up and fight. Get up. Fight. Rage.

Her right hand, with no weapon to hold, was streaked with blood, streaming down her skin the same way she’d imagined it before losing control with Emily. She ducked and weaved through the mob of Demons and screamed bloody murder at them when more replaced the ones she’d killed – death threats that she quickly followed up on.

And she screamed again when a mace-wielding humanoid picked her up like a ragdoll, tucking her knees over its arm, and then stabbed it in the chest with her dagger. Rage. I have to survive, live. Don't let them win. The shadows that made up the Demon dispersed, the heavy metal mace dropping to the ground with her along with it. But another one caught her in its arms, and a headless figure approached to grab hold of her hand and pry her last weapon from her weak fingers. It took it away, held it up to its torso as if examining it with the eyes on its chest, and dropped it onto the floor. “Bastard!” she snarled. I won’t be that weak again. I won’t be a helpless brat. I am not afraid. “Give me back my weapons! Give them back!” But she struggled in vain, beat her fists upon the chest of the Demon holding her captive, kicked out with her feet and caught one in the jaw, but her efforts were useless. She was out of stamina, out of power. The voice in her mind went quiet. Suddenly, now that she wasn’t screaming, she realised how silent everything was, just her panting and the faint clicking of metal.