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That focus was the only thing grounding her. Because the longer she held on, the more intensely her body began to tremble as pain wracked through her. She gritted her teeth, her breaths turning sharp and labored.
But still, she held on.
The light of the portal flared brightly as she pushed more energy into it. And then, with a sharp cry, her back bowed as something sharp ratcheted through her, ripping and tearing at her insides. She bit down on a scream, plunging her fingers more deeply into the sand.
Gradually, the pain subsided. Or perhaps she only became numb to it. She wasn’t sure. But whatever the reason, it became more bearable.
“Keep it going,” Sol ordered. “We need to get everyone through. Understand?”
She only nodded, unable to speak. Sol gestured to someone behind her, and a figure stepped through the portal.
The light flared again, and the ground shook. Pandora let loose another cry of pain as energy rippled through her as if the portal were forcibly tearing the power from her body.
This would shred her apart, piece by piece. It would not be pleasant, or quick.
I deserve this, she thought, her teeth grinding together so intensely that her head started throbbing.
Another person stepped through, and the pain returned, slicing deep, carving through her chest.
One at a time, the residents of Elysium traveled through the portal. And all the while, Pandora held on, pushing every ounce of her strength into the earth to fuel it.
By the end, she lay limply on the ground, sand covering her body and hair, her arms shaking. Blood dripped from her nose and mouth, but she kept her fingers in the sand, determined to finish this.
Sol crouched before her, his face impassive as he stared at her. She could only blink at him, too exhausted to say anything. Too exhausted to arrange an expression on her face.
“That’s everyone,” he said. “Only three of us remain.”
Pandora tried to speak, but no words came out. Only a hoarse gurgle escaped her lips.
Sol tilted his head. “What did you say?”
“Amara,” she rasped. “The village. We have to get them out.”
Sol’s eyes narrowed. “You’re concerned about them?” He huffed a laugh. “That’s rich, considering you’re the reason for their destruction. Where was this concern when you unleashed your darkness and obliterated the realm?”
“Please,” Pandora croaked. “Sol, I never wanted this. It was all her. I can’t—I couldn’t?—”
“Don’t for a second expect me to believe you are blameless in all this,” he seethed. “You aren’t a slave, Trivia. You have your own magic. Your own thoughts. Your own actions. And you let her dictate who you are. That was your choice.”
Pandora tried to shake her head, but she was too weak. At any rate, it didn’t matter.
Because he was right.
She had had choices. And she had chosen a revenge that wasn’t hers to take. In doing so, she had damned herself, condemned to a life of slavery.
It had been her own doing. She’d been free before, but she’d locked herself in a cage and tossed away the key.
She could have chosen differently.
“I’ve sent Alexander to bring as many villagers as he can,” Sol was saying, glancing behind Pandora. “But I fear it’s already too late.”
Alexander. It took Pandora a moment for her brain to catch up. Vaguely, she recalled the servant she’d sent to Sol days ago when she’d been impatiently awaiting him in the library.
He knew the servant’s name.
Of course he did. He wore a mask of indifference and arrogance, preaching of the gods’ superiority over others, claiming he didn’t care about the help at all. He’d brushed right past them without even acknowledging their presence, and Pandora had called him out on it.
But he had still seen them. Still learned their names.
