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Please, stop us.

They can’t.

And now he—he is hurting them.

He wants to pierce their hearts, to suck out their power.

He wants to take it all.

It has to end somewhere, somehow.

Is this really what I thought I wanted? Did I really think it would be worth the cost?

I should have known it never is.

“Portentia?”

For the first time in a thousand sunless nights, my voice is the one to erupt from our mouth.

She is here. I reach for her.

No, he reaches for her. He wants to hurt her. Wants to bend her to his will. And if he cannot bend her, he will break her.

Never.

Never.

Never.

I am the one who bends.

And together, him and I, we break.

First, there is only light.

The brilliant, burning, inevitable sun.

It lifts us up.

Throws us down.

Pushes in on us, searing through us, tearing us apart.

We are here, and then we are not.

We are dust, fragments of life scattering in the wind.

It is glorious, wondrous, consuming.

Because he is gone.

And I am . . .

Free.

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AGAINST THE SUNLIT SKY