Powerful: A Powerless Story

It is hot in the Pit.

Again, I suppose that’s to be expected.

I wake to the sound of stomping feet. The chanting of thousands has my ears ringing as my senses slowly hum to life. After struggling to blink open my heavy eyelids, I startle at the sight of hedges looming around me.

Staggering to my feet proves to be rather difficult with my wrists now bound behind my back and my ankles bound beneath me. I gawk at the hedges surrounding me, gulp at the sounds coming from beyond the dense foliage. At least I don’t have to look at my fingers anymore. Though they ache so badly that it’s impossible to forget what they look like. I do my best to ignore the image of cracked bones and swollen knuckles that persistently flashes in my mind.

I’m dreaming. I must be.

This is all just a nightmare. Pae will wake me soon with her fingers sweeping back my sweaty bangs. And then we will sit and stare at the stars from behind our Fort. Because that is where I am. That is where I want to be.

But that is not this place.

This place is hot sand beneath my bare feet and sun trickling down through the vines above my head. This place is a wall of greenery, a cage of foliage folding in on me. This place is foreign and familiar all at once.

My eyes widen with realization.

This place really is the Pit.

Why am I in the Pit? I can’t possibly be in the Pit. Today must be the final Trial and—

Did I wake up in the final Trial? I couldn’t have… I mean, why would I be…?

I spin in a slow circle, struggling against the shackles binding my ankles together. My head is pounding from whatever it was that knocked me out, making my vision eerily hazy.

Thundering feet and growing cheers are my only indication that the Trial has begun.

So I stand there. Stunned and still and silently hoping this is all in my head.

Pae will find me. She’ll know what to do. She always knows what to do.

Sweat rolls down my face. My fingers throb. My head aches. My stomach growls.

Time seems to slow. I hear a muffled scream and spin in its direction.

That terror couldn’t have belonged to Paedyn. No, because she’s strong and safe and probably standing right beyond these hedges, about to find me.

Patience has never been a quality I’ve possessed.

493.

I’ve started counting the seconds out of sheer boredom.

My legs are shaking, feeling unsteady beneath me.

494, 495, 496…

I’m not sure what this Trial is supposed to be, but I’m pretty sure I have the worst seat.

It’s difficult to ignore my throbbing fingers, or the nagging thought that I was thrown into this Trial for a reason.

What could they want with a useless seamstress?

521, 522, 523…

Pae will win this. Her prize will be finding me.

Shouts echo from every direction, chanting names I can’t make out.

Do they know I’m here? Do they see me struggling to stay standing?

The world begins spinning around second 547.

My mouth is so dry I can barely swallow.

552.

Any second now. She’ll save me any second now.

The corners of my vision are creeping in on me, making it feel as though I’m looking through a long tunnel.

I just want to wake up so I can see the stars.

I’m so dizzy that I almost don’t see the figure running towards me.

‘Adena?’

Her voice cuts through the haze of pain. My Pae has found me.

She’s bounding towards me, sand flying from her heels. I’m so flooded with relief that I sink to my knees, smiling at her blurry form. ‘Paedyn!’ I shout, attempting to stand. But the look on her face has me faltering.

Why does she look so upset? She’s won.

Maybe I’ve worried her with my disappearance. The thought has me spewing an apology, frantically trying to make her understand where I’ve been. ‘Pae, I’m so sorry. I—’

This second feels longer than all the ones prior.

This one feels like fire.

Fatal.

Like the beginning of the end.

Pain blooms in my chest, burns through my body.

I take my time looking down at what is to be the end of me.

I blink at the bloody branch that has found its way through my chest, vaguely wondering how it got there.

Everything feels dull, muted like the scream that tears from a throat that isn’t mine.

My eyes slowly find their way to the girl sprinting towards me, watching the scream form on her lips but never hearing it leave them.

She catches me before I hit the sand. I’m being cradled in arms I wish I could feel. Fingers are brushing away my bangs, and I manage a smile at the familiar feeling.

She’s always there to wake me from my nightmares, to push uneven bangs from my eyes.

I sense the pain racking my body rather than feel it. Like knowing when your heart has broken without needing to feel it shatter.

I keep my eyes on her. My strong Pae. She’s telling me I’m going to be fine. I know I’m not.

I may be dying, but I’m not dumb.

She’s promising me sticky buns now. Says she’ll feed me so many that I’ll grow sick of them. We both know that’s a lie. My love for sticky buns will die with me.

Die.

What a silly word, one I typically associate with the color of my fabrics. How odd it is to assign three little letters to the end of my existence.

‘… you have to promise me you’ll stay—’

Her muffled words pierce me harder than the branch jutting from my chest. ‘Pae.’ I take a shaky breath. ‘You know I don’t make promises I can’t keep.’

I don’t hear much of what she says next. Her tears are splattering my face, though I can’t feel them through the blanket of numbness smothering my body. She’s just as stubborn as always, denying the death that is so obviously coming to claim me.

That is the one thing I do feel. The brush of Death’s fingers down my face, like a calming caress. I thought I would be frightened of him and the end he’s dragging me towards. But it’s comforting in a way, being fully aware that this is the end.

‘Promise you’ll wear it for me?’

The words slip from my mouth, blood quickly following. Through blurry vision, I see the question on her face more than hear it from her lips. ‘The vest,’ I choke out. ‘Th-The green one with the pockets.’ Death is shushing me, but I speak over him. ‘The stitching took me ages, and I’d hate for all my… h-hard work to go to waste.’

It’s the last piece of me left.

The last physical piece of my passion in life.

No. There’s Mak. He is my passion in life. And I only wish for them both to wear my vests when I’m gone, tethering them to me for eternity.

But I say none of this.

She promises. She pleads. She pulls me closer.

She’s so good. I’m not sure she knows how good she is. How her worth is so much more than what power is or isn’t running through her veins.

I’ve never thought of her as anything less than extraordinary.

My eyelids grow heavy, but I force them open.

I’ll have plenty of time to rest when I’m dead.

It’s peaceful, being pulled into the unknown.

But leaving her is anything but.

I claw against Death, needing to speak one last time.

‘This is not a goodbye… only a good way to say bye until I see you next.’

With numb lips, I leave her with that.

I wonder if I’ll be able to watch over her when I get to wherever Death is taking me.

He better let me watch over her.

The taste of blood is bitter in my mouth, but the smile I muster for her is sweet.

And then I count.

One, two, three…

Death is gentle in a way life never was.

I look up into the sky, seeing stars swim in my vision.

What a beautiful night in the Fort.

Four, five, six…

I’m counting the seconds until I see her next.

I’m counting the stars until I see Mak shining beside me.

The stars wink at me, welcoming me home.

And on second eight, I know nothing.