The Reader - Chapter 23

Chapter 23 

Emmeline told herself Newt would be okay. But there was no telling what mental instabilities were hidden under his marred skin. 

“He’ll be fine,” Baelle promised, but Emmeline didn’t believe it for a second. There was no way that Newt would be fine after being with Baelle. None of them would ever be the same if they made it out alive. 

Emmeline kept silent. She didn’t voice any of her protests out of fear for Newt. His gift to her, the necklace he claimed was the key to her heart, dangled on her neck. She reached up and stroked the tiny charm before finally looking back up at Baelle. She still remained quiet but she filled her expression with as much hatred as possible. 

“Oh, no need to give me that look,” Baelle laughed. “It’s time to get Writing. Do you know how or what you’re going to Write?” 

“No, I figured I’d just doodle and hope for the best,” Emmeline remarked, voice thick with sarcasm. 

Baelle’s eyes narrowed and she looked in Newt’s direction. A pitiful shout came from the boy’s mouth. Emmeline watched in horror as blood began to trickle down his face faster. Newt squirmed in the seat, desperately trying to escape and plagued by terrors in his mind that Emmeline couldn’t even imagine.
“Stop!” Emmeline shouted. “Stop!” 

Baelle dropped her gaze, meeting Emmeline’s eyes instead. “I don’t appreciate being disrespected. So I’ll ask you again - do you know how and what you’re going to Write?” 

“Yes,” Emmeline replied without hesitation. She wondered if Baelle knew they needed a pen. Emmeline almost laughed - the only pen was at the Beach of Lost which meant that if Baelle wasn’t prepared they might be able to escape. 

“What’s so funny?” Baelle sneered as Emmeline lips curled into a small smile. 

“Nothing,” Emmeline responded quickly, averting her gaze. 

Newt let out another yell that made Emmeline’s stomach twist. She clenched her fists, trying to channel her anger into strength. But as she struggled Emmeline achieved nothing. Newt continued to make small groans of pain until Emmeline looked back up at Baelle. 

“It’s just…” Emmeline began and Newt stopped moving, Baelle’s attention back on her. “Well, you need a pen to Write. Not just any pen. And Wiley said…” 

“Wiley?” Baelle asked, raising an eyebrow. “You mean that mentor man who lived in the Tower Ruins? I thought he died.” 

“He did,” Emmeline admitted, not wanting any more harm to come to Newt. “But Newt brought back his ghost to teach me. And then …” her voice broke. “You should ask your Rogues, they were the ones who killed him.” 

“Killed a ghost?” Baelle scoffed, but then realization flickered onto her face. “The lumenite arrows,” she breathed softly. 

“What? Lumenite arrows?” Emmeline burst into action, trying to find something that might help her. Was lumenite what the arrows were made of? Could lumenite not injure mortals? It made sense. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Baelle spat, turning her head to torture Newt some more. Emmeline raised her hand to stop her. “What now?” 

“Do you have a pen or not?” Emmeline asked in exasperation. But then she saw Baelle’s murderous expression and added, “your highness.” Baelle seemed satisfied and Emmeline breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Of course I have a pen,” Baelle said. She raised an arm and a pen as dark as night drifted over to the table. It floated downwards until it sat directly in front of Emmeline. She touched it with her fingers gently. 

The pen seemed to radiate pure power, emitting a soft glow. The nib was extremely sharp like a blade and Emmeline was sure it could probably be used as a weapon. 

But then again, wasn’t Writing technically a weapon? 

“What symbols will you be drawing?” Baelle asked her. 

“A tiara for you to represent a goddess, a scale at the highest weight for powerful, and…” Emmeline gulped. 

“And?” Baelle snarled. 

“There will be no and,” Emmeline said quietly. “I made a mistake. It won’t happen again, your highness.” 

“It better not,” Baelle threatened, and Newt screamed. Emmeline choked back a sob, keeping her eyes on Baelle’s face. Repulsion and loathing rushed through her veins and Emmeline wanted nothing more to stab her pen right through Baelle’s forehead. 

Newt’s screams didn’t stop this time. Baelle refocused on Emmeline. “His pain will linger until you complete your task. If I find that you Wrote me wrong there will be severe consequences - as I mentioned before someone can only be Written once. Once you have served your purpose you will be sent back to your room until I find a use for you. Is that clear?” 

“Crystal,” Emmeline nodded, biting back her fear. She couldn’t let Baelle win, but she had no idea how she was supposed to win this. 

In war there were no winners, only survivors. 

Newt’s pained screams continued, worsening with every second. Baelle seemed to relish every moment of it, taking her time while she unfastened the buttons on the back of her dress. 

Her back was covered in dark marks, but not as many as Beckett had on his. Emmeline’s hands shook as the straps on the chair released her slowly. Her legs were still strapped on as Baelle laid herself across the table. 

Emmeline held her breath as she stared at the tapestry of artwork on Baelle’s back. Her vision blurred but Emmeline fought back the instinct to Read. 

She gripped the pen tightly as Baelle waited. “Any time now,” the demigoddess muttered. Newt’s screams felt like an appropriate sound as Emmeline lowered the pen to Baelle’s back, careful not to let any of their skin meet, lest Emmeline accidentally Read her. 

Emmeline plunged the tip into Baelle’s back and the woman shuddered before falling limp. Emmeline tried to remove the pen but it was fused to Baelle’s back. 

Emmeline inhaled deeply, trying not to panic. Was this supposed to happen? 

She slowly moved the pen, pulling upwards at the same time so that she wouldn’t alter anything else on Baelle. She moved to where she saw a tree cut in half and, following her instinct, somehow erased the cut line, therefore making Baelle a pure goddess. 

Then, where she saw a little blank space, she doodled the tiara and the scale. 

And suddenly a terrible thought struck Emmeline. What if she altered Baelle’s death? The woman was obviously asleep while the Writing process took place. So what if… 

Something shifted. Baelle was waking up - Emmeline had little time to finish. 

And then someone said something. “Em,” Newt whispered. Emmeline spun to face him, her eyes wide and scared. “Don’t do it.” 

“I have to,” Emmeline murmured back. “She’ll kill me. She’ll kill you. I have to do exactly as she says.” 

“No, you don’t. Help me out and we can escape together.” Newt raised his head weakly, eyes glistening with tears and mouth grimaced from the pain. “It hurts, Em, please just stop. We can live through this.” 

“What is going on!” Baelle interrupted. “Emmeline, finish my Writing!” 

Emmeline realized with a start that she had mere moments to finish what she was doing. She glanced at Newt and his gaze made her necklace feel heavy. Emmeline moved the pen slightly so it was over Baelle’s right arm. Without waiting to see if Baelle would notice she started drawing small stick figures, one with a crown and one with a book and… 

Baelle gripped her fingers tightly with her free arm. “What are you doing?!” She shouted. “Erase that this instant! What are you doing?!” 

Emmeline didn’t respond so Baelle raised her hand. Emmeline felt herself flying across the room and she slammed into a wall. Hard. Her vision flickered and Emmeline shook her head, trying to stay awake. 

“You will come back here and finish what you started!” Baelle screamed. 

Another horrendous idea hit Emmeline head on. The pen was still gripped in her hand, somehow fused to her skin as well. It was pulling for Baelle’s back where a trickle of black ink like blood flowed. 

She remembered thinking that the nib on the pen would make a great blade. 

And she remembered that she was the last Reader left - Baelle would never be able to get Written again if she did this. 

Emmeline met Newt’s eyes, her head spinning and her heart pounding. 

“I’m sorry,” Emmeline whispered. 

And then she plunged the pen into her heart as Baelle let out a terrifying screech. 

Pain erupted in Emmeline’s chest like lightning striking a tree head on. She felt a hot tear leak from her eyes and trickle down her face. 

There was blood everywhere. And ink. 

Baelle was screaming. Newt was screaming. Everything was chaos. Emmeline’s head felt light and airy, she almost giggled at the way everything sounded. 

A handful of soldiers burst into the room at Baelle’s scream. They pointed their weapons at Newt, who screamed even louder. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and Emmeline watched helpless as phantoms burst into the air in front of all of the soldiers. 

The pain in Emmeline’s heart worsened. She wondered if maybe she would just be paralyzed and that she hadn’t plunged the pen deep enough. She wanted the pain to end. 

Fights broke out all around her but Emmeline paid them no mind. She searched through her fuzzy head for a soft breeze that could take her away. But the only things she found were memories and feelings of fear. 

She was dying. 

Some of Newt’s phantoms helped untie him, and he rushed for Emmeline, blood still pouring from his wound though not as heavily. 

Baelle was surrounded by several phantoms and struggling to escape. 

Newt lunged for Emmeline, scooping her into his arms like a ragdoll. Emmeline felt numb inside as he cuddled her like a small child. She wanted to reach out and pull her arms around his neck. To bring her lips to his and finally show him how much she really cared for him. But the blood pooled from her body and Emmeline’s mind was growing wearier. 

She couldn’t hold on for much longer. The whole world seemed to be underwater. 

Newt spoke but Emmeline didn’t hear. 

The pain in her chest lessened. 

Newt buried his face onto her bloody chest. He cried. He screamed. But there was nothing he could do for her. 

Emmeline drifted off. 

Was this the end? It was impossible to tell - she had thought the same thing with the silver arrows. 

But then her eyes opened. And she saw Newt curled into a ball not far away. Baelle was gone and for a second fear overwhelmed Emmeline. Was Newt dead, killed by the angry demigoddess? Then he shook with sobs and Emmeline knew he was alive, though not unharmed. 

Her desire to help Newt live no matter the cost overpowered her self-preservation and Emmeline didn’t hesitate. 

She yanked the pen from her chest, the wound still open wide. Newt stopped shaking as she grew closer to him. “Are you a ghost?” he asked, his voice weak and scared as his eyes met hers. 

“No,” Emmeline rasped as she crashed to the ground beside him. “I’m yours.” 

And then darkness overtook her for real. 

Emmeline didn’t recognize the two women in front of her but names popped into her head like labels at a market. 

One of the women had golden blonde hair that fell down her back over her white dress, golden bracelets crawling up her arms. Her eyes were a kind blue but her face was drawn in a scowl - though not at Emmeline. 

The other woman had hair the sheen of raven feathers, her dress a similar inky shade. Her eyes, however, were a bright cherry red. Her arms were crossed, rings decorating her fingers. She was scowling back at the other woman. Dixral, thought Emmeline, the Goddess of Death. And the golden haired woman was Elyviella, Goddess of Health and Life. 

Why they were together, Emmeline had no idea. 

“You’re the Goddess of Death, do something!” Elyviella was complaining, her voice musical. Just listening to it seemed to lighten the pain on Emmeline’s chest. 

“And you are the Goddess of Life,” Dixral retorted. “Arguing gets us nowhere. We must decide - whether we shall help the girl.” Dixral gestured downwards and Emmeline followed her pointing. 

What she saw surprised her. Emmeline’s body laid below in Newt’s arms, chest bloody and face ashen. 

Emmeline wanted to cry out “wait, I’m not dead,” but her lips didn’t work. She looked down at herself but there was an ethereal form. The Goddesses obviously couldn’t see her because they didn’t react to her presence. 

“Do we risk it all?” Elyviella asked. “What she Wrote - it means that she should live.” 

“But she also endangered us all,” Dixral pointed out. 

Emmeline realized they were talking about her. Dixral was speaking of her betrayal and Elyviella… 

While Writing Baelle’s death Emmeline had attempted to make it so that she and her friends would kill the demigoddess. But Baelle had reacted quickly and Emmeline hadn’t finished. Baelle could now only be killed by Emmeline or Beckett. 

“If we let her die it depends on the princeling, and he is not ready to accept his fate,” Elyviella whispered. 

“I suppose I can forgive her just this once,” Dixral agreed. 

“It’s not in the nature of the Death Goddess to be forgiving, I know,” Elyviella sympathized. “But we’re making the right choice in the long run.” 

Emmeline felt warmth in her chest. It blossomed from the wound in her heart outwards, eliminating the pain. Her eyes fluttered open and she saw the blurry form of Newt’s sobbing face. Emotions flooded through her as Emmeline realized that she had been on the verge of death. 

But now she was alive. Wiley had been right about the Goddesses providing her help to survive. Dixral had kept her alive and Elyviella had provided her the healing she needed. 

“Newt,” Emmeline breathed, trying to get his attention. “Newt.” 

“Stop!” the sobbing boy ordered, still not meeting her face. “I don’t want to hear about how I couldn’t save her. It’s over. This is the end, isn’t it?” 

“Newt,” Emmeline whispered again, her voice raspy. He shook his head and only began to cry harder. Emmeline was weak, of course, but she felt strength powering her veins. Maybe Layenyl was watching out for her after all. 

Tentatively, Emmeline reached up her hand and brushed it along Newt’s cheek. 

He shook as finally he met her gaze. His lovely blue eyes met hers and Emmeline cried out a sound of relief. 

Newt pulled her close as Emmeline began to cry, he pushed her face into his neck. Emmeline realized she was sitting in his lap but at this point she didn’t care. She sobbed into his neck, only now coming to terms with how close she had been to death. 

“You’re alive,” Newt whispered to her. “You’re alive!” 

“I know, I know,” Emmeline mumbled back. She pulled herself away from Newt. “Where did Baelle go?” 

“To find a healer for you,” Newt explained, wiping tears and blood from his eyes. “She wants you to finish your Writing and fix what you did. Emmeline, I can’t believe you did that. You died, your heart stopped beating.” 

“Not right now, Newt,” Emmeline told him. “The Writing is over - Baelle can be defeated even though she’s a Goddess.” 

“That’s great!” Newt’s face lit up. 

“But she can only be killed by me or Beckett. I didn’t finish my Writing,” Emmeline admitted. 

“I…” Newt began, but he was cut off by the sound of footsteps. His face grew worried. “It’s Baelle and the healers.” 

“They can’t know I’m alive,” Emmeline whispered, her eyes growing wide. 

Newt nodded. “Baelle will want me alive to see if she can use me to resurrect you. You’ll find me, won’t you?” 

“I’m going to find you and Beckett and then burn the castle to the ground,” Emmeline said, her voice so forceful even she felt shaken by the determination. Then she draped herself over Newt’s lap again. 

He began to sob again over her “corpse”. Emmeline hoped the healers wouldn’t check for a pulse. 

Baelle and several soldiers, along with two or three healers burst into the room. Emmeline closed her eyes, relying entirely on sound now. Quick footsteps made their way to her side. 

“Let go of her,” Baelle shouted, and Newt’s warmth was gone. Emmeline rolled onto the ground. 

Newt sobbed louder. Either he had plenty of tears to spare or he was a good liar, but Emmeline’s heart broke with every second that he cried. “Someone take care of him. Take him to his room. Actually, strike that - dispose of him.” 

Newt’s sobs grew so loud that Emmeline thought that castle would shake from his voice. Emmeline choked back her own emotions. Newt was going to be put to death. She had to hurry. 

“Help her,” Baelle’s voice ordered. 

Soft fingers grazed her neck and Emmeline’s pulse raced. 

“Ma’m,” another voice whispered softly. “It appears the girl is alive.” Emmeline felt tighter hands wrap around her arms and yank her into a sitting position.

The hands shook her and Emmeline’s eyes fluttered open. Baelle was staring directly into her face. “The little cretin!” Baelle cried out, shaking even harder now. “The little liar! Someone make her talk!” 

“Stop,” Emmeline gasped, pretending like she had just awoken. 

Something seemed different as Baelle slowed her down and the world still. And then Emmeline noticed that Baelle had an odd glow surrounding her. The woman’s skin seemed brighter. The toll of being a Goddess had begun to transform her. 

“She’s alive!” Baelle cried out. Then she grabbed Emmeline’s throat and held her in the air, fingers elongating to circle the width of Emmeline’s neck. 

Emmeline pried at the fingers, gasping for air as Baelle held her high. Her feet kicked helplessly above the ground. Just as Emmeline’s vision was about to go dark entirely something shook the ground. 

Green a silver light shot through the air, embedding itself in the chests of the soldiers and healers, knocking to the ground. Baelle dropped Emmeline in shock and Emmeline scrambled away. From the doorway Emmeline saw a small, pale figure standing in the entrance wearing a broad smirk and crusted blood. 

“Did I miss the fun?” the young prince Beckett asked.