Gathering Darkness (Falling Kingdoms 3)

“Stop it,” Gregor had said.

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t stop crying, no matter how much she’d wanted to.

“Stop it,” he said again, grabbing her wrists and pulling her roughly to her feet. “Stop crying!”

“That boy—he pushed me. He’s so mean!”

“And you’re surprised? He’s mean to everyone who lets him. C’mon, little Lys. I thought you were better than this.”

His words surprised her. “Better?”

“Maybe you are a crybaby.”

“I am not!”

He shoved her until she staggered back and dropped into the puddle again. She stared up at him with shock.

“You’re going to let me do that?” he demanded.

“Wh-what?”

“Get up!”

Shock gave way to anger as she got to her feet. She glared at him, her small fists clenched at her sides, her tears forgotten.

“That’s better,” he said. “You don’t cry when someone pushes you down. You get up. You get up and you fight back. And pretty soon nobody’s going to shove you anymore because they’ll see it’s not worth it. You won’t let anyone push you around and make you cry. Got it?”

At the time, Lysandra didn’t understand what he’d been trying to teach her. All she knew was that her skirts were muddy and her mother would be angry that she’d spent so long gathering nothing but dirt.

Get up. Again and again. There are those who would push you down into the mud and laugh at you. They wanted to see tears. They wanted to see defeat because it made them feel better about their own sad little lives.

But sometimes it was hard to rise back up. Sometimes the mud grew so solid and so thick around you that there was no escape. And the taunting laughter never stopped.

Suddenly, the sting of a slap made her gasp, and Lysandra was pulled out of her memories to find herself staring into the freckled face of Tarus.

“Come on, Lys!” He had her by her shoulders, his fingers biting into her flesh. “The guards are coming. I need you.”

“Good,” she whispered. “It’s finally time to end this.”

He shook her. “No! You can’t give up. It’s only us, you know that? Cato and Fabius are dead—they were killed trying to escape. We’re the only ones left!”

The news was yet another blow, but she wasn’t surprised. Cato and Fabius would have preferred to die fighting, rather than as a spectacle before a crowd.

Safe travels to the ever after, my friends, she thought, her heart heavy.

She glanced over to the corner where her brother had once slept. Where he’d searched and searched his dreams for his Watcher, hoping she held the answers he’d desperately needed to survive.

A sharp pain now twisted in her chest. Already the memory of his death had settled into her mind like the roots of a dark, malevolent tree, twisting and writhing, choking away all the life, all the hope, until nothing but darkness remained.

They’d killed Gregor in front of her and all she could do was scream.

“Lys, please.” Tarus grabbed her face as she began to tremble. “You’ve always been so strong. Please be strong today.”

“And what will strength accomplish now? We’re going to die.”

Now that she’d accepted her fate, a feeling of calm spread through her, numbing her senses. Her heart did not mirror the panic on Tarus’s face.

Soon it would be over. All the pain. All the misery. All the misplaced hope.