Powerful: A Powerless Story
Powerful: Chapter 22

My heart skips a few several beats, sputtering at the sight of her standing there in the sand.

I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare helplessly at her figure so far away.

This can’t be right. Adena is the farthest thing from a criminal. The farthest thing from anyone who deserves to die.

An Imperial storms by, jostling my shoulder hard enough that I grab his arm. He whips round, temper flaring in his eyes. I’ve never once gone out of my way to interact with an Imperial, yet here I am, clutching his bicep and growling, ‘She’s not a criminal. Why the hell is she in there?’

The man scoffs, shoving me away from him. And if I weren’t so shaken, I likely wouldn’t have let him. ‘King’s orders, slummer.’ He bares his teeth in what he thinks is a menacing way. ‘Grab me again and I’ll throw you in there with her.’

‘Well, in that case…’ I catch his arm, twisting it out with a jerk that forces a gasp from his lips.

He staggers back, eyes wide with hatred. ‘Why you—’ He stops suddenly, and I fear the worst when his eyes narrow. ‘On second thought, I think you’d be hurting far more if you simply watched her die.’

My chest heaves at his words, and before I can do something drastic, he spins on his heel and strides away. I’m left staring after him, breath shaky and palms sweaty.

I turn back slowly towards the arena, fearing what it is I’ll find there. When my eyes land on her, I can just make out the rope binding her wrists behind her back.

But it’s her fingers I focus on. They look wrong, oddly different to what I memorized from the many hours of watching her sew.

I squint, shading my eyes from the blinding sun.

And then I’m once again grasping the rail for support.

Her fingers are bent, swollen, broken behind her back.

Her sewing fingers. They have broken her sewing fingers.

Emotion clogs my throat, making it hard to swallow.

Those beautiful hands of hers. Those beautiful hands that have cupped my face, created countless pieces of clothing, clapped joyfully at the smallest of things.

And now they never will again.

I shake my head, fighting the tears that beg to fall.

No, this isn’t happening. Why would this be happening to her?

A blur from the edge of the circle emerges from the foliage. Blinking away unshed tears, I lean over the railing, catching a glimpse of a vaguely familiar figure.

Paedyn.

Dangerously, I let hope grab ahold of my heart, forcing it to sputter back to life.

If what I know about her is true, then the Silver Savior would never hurt her other half. With that as my only hope, I watch her tear through the sand towards a stumbling Adena.

I pray to whatever will listen. Beg with every ounce of earnestness. Offer my life for hers.

And yet, it appears that nothing was listening. Nothing even cared enough to hear me out, consider my pleas.

Because a branch plunges into her back.

I scream.

The sound rips my throat raw, managing to turn hundreds of heads in my direction.

I can’t look away, can’t see anything but the blood blooming across her back. The branch pierces straight through her to protrude from her chest and the beautiful heart beating there.

When her knees hit the sand, mine meet the concrete.

Tears slide over my skin as I watch Paedyn fall to the ground beside her. Watch her cradle that head of curls, cling to her broken body.

It hurts to not be holding her. My heart aches and my vision blurs. The box in my pocket grows heavy against my chest, right above the mangled heart beating beneath.

The needle will never have the pleasure of being held by her.

And neither will I. Not ever again.

I can barely hear Paedyn’s desperate shouts through the persistent ringing in my ears, but I keep my eyes trained on her, not daring to look away until she’s truly left me forever.

Her eyes are trained on the sky. I picture those big hazel eyes that I loved to fall on me, and choose to remember them that way.

The Sights are now focused on her, displaying her death clearly on the screen above for all to see. I cover my mouth with a trembling hand, attempting to smother my sob.

She blinks slowly at the sky above, her eyelids growing heavier with each one.

She’s counting the stars.

I break.

All of me. Every inch of my being shattering at the realization.

Sobs shake my body as I clutch the bars of the railing, my legs trembling atop the concrete.

It’s a good thing I cut her bangs. The crooked strands kiss her forehead, allowing those hazel eyes clear view of the stars.

The stars she now counts for the last time.

I weep, unashamed, for her.

For the girl who shines so bright that the sun pales in comparison.

For the girl who I was helplessly tripping into.

For the girl who deserved a happy ending.

‘Just count the stars, Dena.’

I choke out the words, whisper them on the wind that will carry her soul far away from me. ‘Just count the stars.’

I count right along with her.

One, two, three…

Only, I’m counting down the seconds until I get to see her again.

Four, five, six…

I’ll count until I’m up in the sky beside her.

Seven, eight, nine…

And I suddenly wish that second would come sooner.

Ten, eleven, twelve…

I feel her power flicker and fade.

And then I watch her die.

Watch the life drain from her dark skin, steal the light from her eyes.

The connection snaps. Her ability slips between my fingers. Leaving me cold and shaking without its comfort.

And I’ll never feel it again. Never feel her again.

Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen…

When Paedyn’s hand sweeps over her eyes, shutting out the world for eternity, I stand and stumble down the path with shaky legs.

Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen…

Tears blur my vision; anger burns my blood. I turn down a concrete tunnel leading to the world beyond. A world without her. A world she is no longer in.

And I’m not sure I can live in that world.

Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one…

My sobs echo off the walls, drowning out the cheers from inside the Bowl. It should have been me. I wish it was me.

Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four…

They are cheering. Cheering as if a sliver of the sun hadn’t just burned out before them.

Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven…

When my feet meet the path outside, and my face is thoroughly doused in sun, I fall to my knees once again.

I clutch the vest around me, pulling at the perfectly straight seams holding it together.

Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty…

Never again will I get to admire her while she sews.

My head falls into my hands, collecting hot tears on my palms. Then I’m running my fingers over the vest again, tracing every bit that her fingers graced.

Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three… My heart stutters at the feel of raised thread beneath a pocket.

I don’t need to look at it to know what it says. Don’t need to read the words to have more tears rolling down my cheeks.

‘See you in the sky.’

I look up, choking back a sob.

Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six…

The sun drenches me in warmth, coats me in comfort.

It’s soothing. Gentle. Soft.

I smile sadly. Laugh despite the tears still staining my skin.

And there she is, outshining everyone.

In a way, she’s always been the sun. Always the brightness that existed despite the presence of such darkness.

Thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine…

‘Thanks for picking the closest star, Dena.’

I take a shaky breath.

Forty, forty-one, forty-two…

‘Looks like you’ll be around to keep me company.’

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