Let the Sky Fall

“Go, Audra!”


Never, in all my life, have I heard my father so deadly serious. It knocks the fight out of me, lulling me almost into a trance as I turn and do as he ordered. I grab Vane’s hand and drag him away, my feet moving faster with each step I take away from my father, like the winds are spurring me along.

“Keep going,” my father urges. “Don’t come back.”

Somehow we make it to the edge of the storm without being hit by any of the debris raining around us. I shove Vane through the wall of wind to the calmer ground, watching him tumble along the safe, steady earth. I know I’m supposed to follow him, but I can’t leave, can’t abandon my family. I turn to head back, but my father’s voice stops me.

“No, Audra.”

He hovers lower. Still out of reach, but close enough that I can see his tear-filled eyes.

“Go, my darling. And take care of Vane.”

He sends a powerful Easterly to yank me away. I kick and scream and battle the force with everything I have, but I can’t defeat it. It whips me out of the funnel, a few feet from where Vane lies, sobbing. Before I can rise to my feet, the storm explodes.

“Daddy!” I scream, so loud it feels like my throat rips.

The funnel unravels before my eyes, and the threads of winds scatter in every direction. I search the sky for some sign of him, strain my ears for the sound of his voice. But I know I won’t find him. I can feel him in the air all around me, and I know he’s made the sacrifice. Let the winds tear him apart so he can fight them from the inside.

I reach for the drafts, try to hold them in my grasp.

They slip through my fingers.

He’s gone.

Debris claps like thunder as it collides with the ground. It bruises me. Pummels my limbs.

I don’t run. I collapse in a sobbing heap, shaking uncontrollably.

He didn’t say goodbye.

He didn’t say he loved me.

All he said was, “Take care of Vane.”

A pair of arms wraps around me and I jump, the relief like a warm blast of sunshine as I turn to hug my father.

But it’s not him.

I stare into Vane’s watery eyes, feel his arms shaking as he strangles me in a hug, clinging to me like I’m the only thing holding him to the ground.

I want to shove him away. Pound him with my fists.

Why is he here and not my dad?

It’s his fault.

His. Fault.

But even my rage won’t sell me on the lie.

The truth slices through me, rips me apart, knocks me off my feet. I steady myself against Vane, sobbing onto his shoulder as hard as he cries onto mine. And I tell him the truth.

I tell him it’s my fault. Scream it over the winds. I have to, before the weight of what I did crushes everything inside me.

I know he hears me because he stops crying. Still, he doesn’t let go. Doesn’t pull away.

He pulls me tighter.

The winds are cold and icy, and the world has never felt so lonely and dark. But I feel Vane’s warmth through the fabric of his coat, and the longer we hold each other, the more the heat spreads through me, filling me with energy and life.

I never want to let go.

Take care of Vane. My father’s last wish.

I promise whatever’s left of my father that I will.

I can never make this right. But I’ll do everything I can to try.





CHAPTER 19


VANE


Audra isn’t in the burned-down shack, which seems . . . strange. Not as strange as the soft whimpers echoing through the air, drowning out the buzzing, chirping, crackling sounds of the grove.

“Audra?” I call, trying to follow the sound. It seems like it’s coming from above, but the sun’s too bright, and even when I squint, all I can see in the fuzzy light are palm leaves.

My whole body shudders as an awful possibility occurs to me.

They’re here. They’ve got her.

I race back to the burned-down house, scrambling to the corner where she stashed the sword. I rip it from the slit in the ground and hold it in front of me. It’s heavier than I expected, and my stomach turns as I stare at the needled edges.

Tearing flesh.

Blood spilling from jagged wounds.

Dripping down the blade.

The mental images make my hands shake so hard I almost drop the sword.

But Audra needs me.

I race through the palms, following the sound of her sobs. Broken branches scratch my legs and the sharp bark scrapes my arms as I tear deeper into the grove.

“Audra!” I scream.

The crying stops.

A loud screech replaces it, and that evil hawk of hers dives out of the sky, aiming for my head. I barely duck in time.

“I’m trying to help her, you stupid bird!” I shout, swiping the sword, even though he’s already flown out of my reach.

“Vane?”

Audra’s voice bounces off the trees in so many different directions I can’t tell where it came from. “Where the hell are you?”

“Up here.”

I squint at the treetops and there—peeking out from the leaves of the tallest one—is Audra.

Alone.