Laura made her way down the spiraling staircase of the citadel, each step bringing her closer to departure. The weight of everything that had transpired pressed down upon her shoulders. The attack, the deaths, Permeus’ hollow eyes—it all seemed too much to bear.

  She felt the tears were welling up in her eyes once more but she had to remind herself that she had already cried enough and if she was to do so again, she would save it until she was in her parent’s arms or at least in a more private area.

  Even despite these self-promises, this night-a night that was supposed to be about her proving she could hang with the Origins had only outlined her helplessness. First running at first sign of attack against the feral titans and then watching Permeus come back with news of her sister’s death and further knowledge that she fell to the power of a foe not even he, an actual Origin, could handle.

  When she had first returned to her room and seen the blasted silver trident in front of her. She felt like throwing it into the fireplace, condemning it for mocking her, though after a fit of blind fury, she could convince herself to at least return it to Dephenai.

  The worst part had been contacting her parents. Laura was not sure what it was, but it felt like the dark aura of malevolence was doing its best to cancel out communications. With her parents’ omnipotence, it should have been easy for her to contact them when she wanted, yet all she could feel for the first few minutes was a fog of darkness.

  Eventually, she could get through to her parents. She had thought she was having difficulty holding back the tears until she saw the reaction of her mother.

  Her father too had been stunned, like someone had just driven a spear through his chest, but realizing he had to be the resolute one here, he kept a straight face, prompting her immediate return.

  She asked what they would do if Operas killed the Origins and made his way to Dephenai, knowing their underwater palace was not too far off here. Dephenus simply told her the strategy was a discussion they would have once she returned safely.

  She didn’t bother telling the other Origins. She believed they would have already predicted her cowardly escape but intended on telling Permeus. That had not gone entirely well though.

  Permeus was more broken than she could have imagined. He said nothing, but she could see it in his eyes. He was ready to die to avenge his family. The sentiment was courageous, but it had worried her because, as her father had once taught her,

  Only men with no real reason to live yearn for death

  She couldn’t imagine that Permeus, who was always so lively, was now without a reason for any of it. He was the Origin of Immortality, for goodness sakes.

  She knew that by the re-telling of his battle with Operas; he had gotten more exposed to his mortality than he could have liked but he was still the picture of everlasting life yet all she could see now as she looked at him was a walking corpse with one last assignment before it finally lay to rest.

  Laura, as well as everybody else, was not completely sure of Desia’s reading of the prophecy, especially Desia, but she hoped that if the white flame had to make a sacrifice, it would not be for him to be extinguished

  It had sounded selfish in Laura’s head just as much as it would have sounded if she blurted it aloud, but she loved... She had loved him once, in the innocent way of youth. Before the meeting, she had known a small part of her still did, but that was when he still had a wife, and when that wife was her sister. That was incentive enough not to act on her feelings.

  But seeing him now, transformed by grief into something unrecognizable, filled her with a sadness that transcended romantic notions. This was deeper, more fundamental—the sadness of witnessing something beautiful destroyed. There was almost a longing in herself to be the thing he still had to live for.

  Her thoughts were screaming loud, but the stables were quiet when she arrived, the usual bustle replaced by an eerie stillness. She quickly found her water stallions, their azure manes flowing like liquid as they sensed her approach.

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  As she stepped toward her carriage, a voice called out to her from the shadows.

  “Leaving so soon?”

  Laura turned to find Dalia standing by the stable entrance, her dark robes melding with the surrounding shadows. Despite everything, the Origin of Darkness appeared composed, though exhaustion lined her eyes.

  “I’ve been summoned home,” Laura explained, her voice tight. “For my safety.”

  Dalia nodded, approaching her with measured steps. “Before you go, I wanted to thank you.”

  “Thank me?” Laura’s brow furrowed in confusion.

  “For defending me against the others,” Dalia clarified. “When they were quick to blame me for the raven’s escape, you stood up for me. It was... unexpected.”

  Laura shook her head. “Well, you shouldn’t have needed defending. Not from your own family.”

  “I am hardly sure I take them as family, seeing as how...estranged I am from the rest of them,” Dalia admitted

  “Well don’t worry about that, I think they feel the same about you,” Laura said, making both of them laugh nervously.

  “I only did what my father would have wanted,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to the ground.

  “He always says that those who are most different are most significant when it counts.”

  “Is he that different from the rest of them as well?” Dalia asked.

  “Even before Operas’ attack when most did not understand the limits of immortality, my father was already lining me up to be a successor,” Laura elaborated. “Does that sound different enough for you?”

  “I suppose so,” Dalia replied. “I just hope you don’t have to be his successor,”

  “So do I,”

  A silence fell between them, filled only by the soft nickering of the horses and the distant sounds of the citadel.

  “You know, you seem very troubled,” Dalia pointed out

  “Just the attack by the zombified titans,” Laura admitted, though not convincingly.

  “And the death of my beloved sister,” she said, having to hold the tears back in saying that part

  “Forgive me, but you seem troubled by more than just that,” Dalia observed, studying Laura’s face with perceptive eyes.

  Laura smiled weakly. “Is it that obvious?”

  “You carry guilt like a visible weight,” Dalia said softly. “I’ve known that burden well.”

  Laura’s shoulders slumped slightly.

  “I’m running away,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “While everyone else stays to fight. Neither my father nor mother would flee a battle like this. They’d stand and fight, regardless of the odds.”

  “Forgive my bluntness dear but, they’re Origins,” Dalia reminded her. “You’re not.”

  The words stung, though Laura knew they weren’t meant cruelly. It was simply the truth—a truth she had been reminded of repeatedly throughout the meeting, especially via The Origin of Fate.

  “Well that’s exactly it, isn’t it” Laura said, unable to keep the frustration from her voice.

  “I’m not an Origin. I never will be. Yet my father sent me here, gave me this.” She gestured to the silver trident propped against her carriage.

  It took a lot out of her, honestly, not to pull that thing from its hinges and blast it on the floor.

  “As if playing at being an Origin would somehow transform me into one.” She added.

  Dalia stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on Laura’s arm.

  “There’s no shame in being what you are, Laura. Your father loves you. He sees potential in you that perhaps you clearly don’t yet see in yourself.”

  “Potential for what? To be a poor imitation of what he is?” Laura asked.

  “To be a leader in your own right,” Dalia countered. “One who doesn’t need the power of an Origin to command respect but the power within them instead.”

  Laura looked up at her, searching for mockery in her expression but finding only sincerity.

  “The lethal venom those beasts carry,” Dalia continued, “it could have killed you. The zombified titans were for us to fight. Your father is right to want you safe.”

  “I just feel so... useless,” Laura admitted.

  “You won’t always feel that way,” Dalia assured her. “I’ve lived long enough to know that everyone finds their purpose, eventually...Even those of us who start in shadow.”

  Laura nodded, not entirely convinced but grateful for the attempt at comfort.

  “Thank you, Dalia. For understanding.

  “Safe journey to Dephenai,” Dalia said, stepping back. “And Laura?”

  “Yes?”

  “You’ll grow into an outstanding leader one day. I’m certain of it.”

  Laura didn’t respond with words. Instead, she stepped forward and embraced Dalia—a gesture that clearly surprised the Origin of Night. After a moment’s hesitation, Dalia returned the embrace, albeit somewhat awkwardly.

  Breaking away, Laura climbed into her carriage, taking one last look at the citadel that had become a battlefield. What would remain of it when—if—she ever returned?

  As the carriage moved, rising into the air on currents of magic, Laura caught sight of Permeus still standing on the balcony, a solitary figure against the night sky. Her heart also ached for him and for what was lost.

  The carriage rose higher; the citadel growing smaller beneath her. Just as she was about to turn her gaze forward, she noticed another figure approaching Dalia—Darkeus, his expression urgent.

  “Dalia,” his voice carried up to her on the wind. “You’re needed in the courtyard.”

  “Why?” Dalia asked, her posture stiffening.

  “Operas’ army has taken siege of the citadel.”