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I rise, and my legs nearly give out. My ribs send shoots of pain burning through me, and I wrap an arm around my chest as I look out over the mess. Trying to picture the mansion, I shift and move around until I come to the place the orb had been. I think. Then I call my magic to me. It answers, slowly, sluggishly, and I swear to it that we’ll rest when this is done.
This final thing.
I start whipping silver magic like sonic blasts against the debris, flinging bits of destroyed mansion into the surrounding woods. My gaze is fixed on what I’m doing, so I don’t accidentally hurt my brother in the process. Simon is under there somewhere and I’m going to get him out.
I feel the sympathetic stares of my mates as they watch my futile effort. They’re all hurt. None of them believe my brother is alive. I understand. I don’t ask them for more. They’ve already done enough.
But then Orson joins the hunt, and the brothers follow suit, digging in the heap for my brother. For men who don’t believe in my cause, they don’t show it. They work quickly and quietly, focused on their task.
We all work in silence. Bricks and pieces of roof are tossed aside, along with concrete and wood, but there’s still no sign of him. Not even a whisper that he was ever here.
He’s like a ghost.
My heart aches. Even if he’s dead, I can’t leave him here. Every second he stays trapped in the remains of this mansion is another tragedy stacked atop the mountain of tragedies. If he’s dead, he deserves to be laid to rest. In his home. Not in this awful place that hurt him so much.
But what if he isn’t dead?
The thought spurs me to move quicker. If he’s alive, time is of the essence. He could be under this mess just waiting to be saved. Maybe even wondering if I’m coming for him.
Where is he? I won’t leave without him.
“Simon!” I call, staring out over the rubble, hoping to hear him call back to me. “Simon!”
Goddammit, Simon, call out to me!
I scream with every magical serve I hurl at the rubble. My voice is hoarse, but the scratching pain in my throat doesn’t deter me. I push on, drawing from every cell of my being to continue the search.
Please, I beg. Please let him be alive. I don’t know who I give this prayer to, only that I pour my soul into it.
My powers begin to fade. The light growing duller until no magic leaves my fingertips. Tears are flowing down my cheeks. My shoulders shake. I have to keep going. With or without my magic. Alive or dead. I have to keep going.
“Asha…” Max says.
“Not yet,” I plead. “Just…not yet.”
The mood is somber, but we all keep digging. Breathing hard. Slow. The cold of the night closing in around us.
“Simon,” I call again. “Simon. I’m here. Please. I’m here.”
I pull off more bricks in front of me, then freeze when an arm appears. Disbelief and happiness flow through me, and I’m sobbing uncontrollably as I remove one piece at a time until his entire torso and face are revealed. There he lies, mangled but whole.
Except…his eyes are closed, and his chest isn’t moving. He’s covered in a white pall of dust, looking grotesquely angelic.
It can’t be.
The hurt slams into my heart.
“NO!”
I push the grief aside and take my brother up in my arms. The others drift over to me and I feel their hands on my shoulders. I think to bat away their pity, but instead I focus on Simon.
My brother, who has been through so much hurt and suffering. My brother, who was always my best friend. He deserves better than this. He deserves… a life of happiness and peace.
It’s not time for it to end yet.
Then… something happens.
I feel it in my arms, like they’d fallen asleep and are now being prodded with a million pins and needles. They start to glow, a light that steadily creeps across Simon’s body. I look down, and I feel it. It’s my magic, only softer, brighter. I don’t understand it. I don’t know how it’s coming from me when I thought I had nothing left to give. And why? Why now?
