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You come back to yourself crying. At first, it does not feel much different from when you first connected to the throne and all the past Merineses came rushing into your head. Whether it was they or one of their subjects someone was always crying out in that tide of hatred and pain with which Nerifes commanded the Legacy. You think you can still hear them now.
But you can feel too, for the first time, tears falling down your face and you realize your head has come to rest on Senel’s shoulder. It’s the sensation of his arms around you and the fact that despite the crushing embrace his whole body is shaking that reminds you who you are.
You wipe away the tears and Senel’s blood clinging to your face and you force yourself to stumble down the podium away from the Wings of Light.
*
Maurits embracing that black tide and using it to bolster himself and his powers so that every time Chloe and Senel go for his legs or one of the crystal erens strikes him down with a pillar of rock so he just gets back up again is terrifying. For so long it was Vaclav who haunted your nightmares, but as you watch you realize this power of his and Nerifes’ is so much worse for it is everything you hate about the sea, about yourself.
He – they – are indiscriminate in their destruction and any of the guards who might have stopped listening to your commands upon his “ascension” quickly change their mind when the force of the sea’s eres splits the ground itself. You try to remember the schematics of the Palace from when you were still the Legacy and guide the guards and their zephyrs as they evacuate the children and the elderly.
From behind, you hear the sound of wings far too large to be a regular teriques and a moment later there are cries of warning from Senel and his Orerines friends. You do not know what to do other than brace for pain, but it never comes. Instead there’s a great flash of light from above as something hurtles into Maurits.
You cannot make heads or tails of the fight going on above you. It is thunder and black skies and far too much blood that you somehow know cannot be coming from Maurits. Only when you see Oscar running your way and pushing past the evacuating Ferines do you realize what has happened.
By that time Senel and his friends have re-positioned themselves and as Walter comes crashing down, Maurits beneath him, they are ready.
You back up and fail to do anything. You watch as Oscar lifts Walter into his arms as if he weighs nothing. You are unsure if you feel anything at that but the image stays with you and you think “oh, he’s dying.”
The next moment you look over to Senel who has just gotten to his feet again and sent another blast of energy at Maurits who stays crumpled on the ground.
(Maurits or Nerifes? You are not, no; it is still not clear).
"Walter," you manage, "he's -"
Senel’s gaze shifts to the side of the podium where Oscar is holding your guard amidst a growing pool of blood.
"Yeah," he says. "Do you want to go,” he pauses, licks his lips. “You can go see him, you know, the others and I can take it from here."
You do not want to go to Walter’s side. What would you say? In the twelve years you lived in the same village together you never once held a conversation. And yet, you are not entirely sure of that because your memories of Shirley Fennes still seem distant compared to the swarms of people, their screams and prayers, that you had held inside you as the Merines.
What is twelve years to four thousand. What is he to you, you wonder. You are his light, his guiding star sent to make the world anew. But no, you think, those were someone else’s words.
He’s going to die because of you, certainly, and you should at least apologize while you have the chance but there’s a reason you haven’t fully grasped yet that such an act and seeing his reaction would be agony.
"I need to stop Maurits," you say because that at least you believe to be true.
"Alright." Senel sighs and he is wearier than you have ever seen him but he offers you his hand all the same.
You take it and while you experience the power of the sacred eres burst through you and the heat of your brother’s emotions you do not feel the same relief he does. Your sensations narrow to the feel of the blood slick on his hand and as you readjust your grip in his your realize how sore every inch of you feels;
(down to your nerves and even deeper).
You hurt and it means you're alive so you force yourself to take that next step
He was smiling, Oscar tells you later. In his last moments he spoke of you and he smiled.
Oh, you think. That's it. That was the feeling you had looking at him.
You were jealous.