NOVEL NEXT Chapter 88: A Fair Fight
Rowan couldn't sleep the night after meeting with his father. Everything had gone as expected, but he couldn't shake a sense of unease. Kess had retired to bed early, leaving him alone with his experiments—and his thoughts. Hours of research had revealed no way to transfer his own Fulminancy into the lights in smaller amounts, even as Kess's Fulminancy thrummed in his veins and steadily faded to nothing as the night wore on.
He'd convinced his father, but Grandbow proceeded with his destructive lights anyway. What good is the Seat if I'm too late? Rowan thought, watching the array in his rooms. He'd already spent too much time playing politics instead of solving this deadly puzzle. What if he wasn't so lucky next time? What if a populated building went next?
He gathered himself for another attempt and focused on the crackling gray Fulminancy that both Rae and Cashin had provided. He'd borrowed Rae's as a control against Kess's, since the two women shared such a similar disposition. The other gray Fulminancy had been sent for testing by Grandbow. Cashin assured him that he'd gotten it from a stable, and most important of all—mild source. Rowan had been testing it in his array, hoping to see signs of stability that would absolve him of the increasingly heavy sense of guilt he felt as Hillcrest adopted his lights against his will.
Rowan reached out, hoping that this time, he'd have something successful to write down.
He never got the chance.
He felt it before he saw it—a deep, sinking sense of devastation. Of rage, fear, and grief all coalesced into one terrifying blast of emotion. At first, he wondered if Kess really hadn't gone to bed at all; occasionally he felt her emotions through her Fulminancy. But no—this was the dark gray Fulminancy Grandbow had sent him…alongside Rae's.
They pulsed in tandem, growing brighter, and Rowan scrambled away from his array just as it blew. The sounds of shattered glass erupted behind him, but Rowan was already out the door, charging up the stairs towards the rooftop.
He wouldn't have used it without testing it first, Rowan told himself. He wouldn't have sent me the sample if he was already using it in the city.
A blast of icy wind slammed into Rowan as he threw the rooftop door open. The storm threatened to rip him off the roof entirely as he clung to the door frame, watching the mountain above Dawnring. He froze there for a moment, panting, then felt it.
A deep series of booms, and a crackling gray light that snapped into the sky over the portion of Redring closest to the Uphill. Several buildings there burst into flame, a blossoming, deadly flower that not even the storm's downpour could immediately stifle.
Even several districts away, Rowan knew what had caused the explosion—Rae's Fulminancy and Cashin's test sample had been one and the same.
And Rae and Rowan had both run out of luck.
Kess couldn't remember how long she'd been walking. Minutes? Hours? It couldn't have been long, judging from the semi-dry state of most of her clothing. And yet, the garrison felt like another lifetime entirely.
Numbly, she plodded through the rain, her legs shaking. Her Fulminancy retreated deep inside that well, to a place she hadn't kept it since before Oliver's disappearance. It huddled there, cowed—or perhaps that was Kess. She couldn't be sure anymore.
Long before she'd moved Downhill, Kess had sworn that she'd never use Fulminancy to kill again. She'd promised herself penance for that horrible day—first by stuffing her Fulminancy away, and later, in Maude's ring, by forcing herself to fight with her own body, instead of Fulminancy. She thought that forcing herself to feel another's pain so intimately would take away her taste for violence, or at least keep her from killing with Fulminancy again.
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It hadn't.
Instead, she'd found herself thrilled with the fights. They were a fever dream of adrenaline and joy—a way of feeling alive once again after witnessing something so horrific that sometimes she wished she hadn't woken up again.
It seemed poignant, really, that she'd become everything the Council had wanted her to be. Destructive, bold, overflowing with power. How many had she killed since the Archives in defense of others? Did defending others make it right, or was it just an excuse to abuse her powers—the same as the men in the garrison?
She stumbled through the storm, ignoring debris as it thumped into her back. I wasn't like this before, she thought. She'd long been convinced that Fulminancy was corruptive in nature—that it changed her overtime. But no, Kess realized, slowing. Fulminancy didn't change. I changed. Fulminancy was an easy scapegoat—an excuse for everything she hated about herself. She'd turned to violence to deal with the emotional aftermath of an event that would have left most people muttering in a ditch somewhere.
But Kess didn't know how to be anything else. Violence was simple, quick, and effective. It produced change when nothing else could. Worse, she found herself sometimes taking joy in her newfound powers. She was proud of them.
It made her sick.
Kess was a few blocks away from the garrison when something convulsed in her hand—a tiny snap of gray Fulminancy. It lanced up her arm, and she gasped as her muscles went taut, screaming in protest. It was a scream, a sob, and a prayer all at once.
Rae?
The ground rocked beneath her feet, and Kess fought for balance as a crack of gray lightning lit the sky and a wave of heat washed through the neighborhood. Kess knew without looking that it was the garrison she'd left behind.
But how?
She rushed back through the neighborhood, this time allowing herself Fulminancy to hasten the trip. Despite the storm, many Downhill residents peeked out of their doorways at the roaring flames up the street.
Kess arrived to chaos, a steady stream of men running from the garrison, many sporting injuries from Kess's staff. The main courtyard was filled with rubble, and several outside towers had collapsed entirely. The structure burned freely in spite of the rain, as bloodied and burned Witchblades dragged injured men from the wreckage, faces panicked.
One stopped her, a hand on her shoulder. Young and handsome, he clutched his middle with his other hand. "Please," he said. "Those lights blew. We can't get all the men out—not with so many injured. You've got to help us."
"I—I just attacked your entire garrison," Kess spluttered.
The young man shook his head ruefully, looking back at the burning building. "You were more than justified in attacking Hildre—half the garrison would have helped you if we didn't need to feed our families."
"But they're dead," Kess protested, mouth dry. Her voice was almost inaudible in the rain. "I killed more than Hildre."
The young man gripped her shoulder insistently and gave her a little shake. "Some are," he agreed grimly. "But a wood staff with Fulminancy running through it can only do so much damage—especially when its wielder isn't channeling all of her force." He squeezed her shoulder again and gave her a tiny nudge towards the garrison building. "The only other killing you'll do tonight is if you don't save the men in there."
With that, he left to help his fellows drag a man from the wreckage.
Kess hesitated, momentarily stunned. She'd meant to kill those men, hadn't she? She'd let the damper loose on her powers and simply fought as the storm. She was destructive. She was corrupted by her powers.
So why hadn't they killed instinctively?
Kess pushed the thought aside as more men rushed in and out of the building and a crowd of Downhill onlookers gathered. Perhaps she hadn't done as much damage as intended, but Rowan's lights would finish the job. Grimly, she forced Fulminancy into her exhausted limbs and leapt into the burning garrison.