CHAPTER 25

Life’s Blood, Spilt

My mom is dead.”

Fin choked on his own words. Around him the Rise and Fade muttered to one another. Vell paced, fingers pressed to his forehead, grappling with the revelation.

The Crest ignored all of them, never taking her eyes from Fin. “Yes,” she said, curling her finger into her fist. Her blood stained the lines on her palm in ruddy crimson.

Fin let out a strangled cry. All this time he’d been searching for his mother… all the nights he’d looked up at the star she’d pointed out to him, dreaming that one day he’d see her again, that she would hug him again. Every hope of having a home, a family. And she was dead.

She’d been dead.

All of his dreams were lies.

“How long?” His voice was a sob, a cough, and a whisper, all jumbled up together.

Vell stormed forward, knocking Fin to the side. “Yes, Mother,” he said with a sneer. “How long? How long have you been hiding your weakness? How long has this atrocity been allowed to stand?”

She cut a cold gaze at Vell, reminding Fin that every bit of cruelty she’d showed had been genuine. “That is none of your concern,” she hissed. Whatever weakness or vulnerability she may have had, she was still the Crest. Still the woman who had sent Fig to steal from them, still the one who was intent on releasing the Salt Sand King. She was still ruthless.

“So long you won’t even admit it then?” Vell snarled. “Why allow that weakness to reside in you? Why not cut it free again?”

But Fin didn’t care about that. He was focused on something much, much more important. “When did my mother die?”

The Crest stepped back, surveying both of them at once. Her back was still straight. Her gaze was still harsh. But the edges of her eyes twisted down, carrying in them real emotion. Her posture, too, seemed more open—not welcoming, perhaps, but not guarded, either. She was an odd mix of cruel and compassionate, harsh and yielding, weak and strong.

She was a person, Fin realized. Not an emotionless Rise, not a shrinking, indeterminate Fade. Just a person.

The Crest let out a sigh. Not one of impatience, but one of exhaustion. As though she’d been carrying the weight of her weakness for too long. She looked to Fin. “Your mother isn’t truly dead,” she explained. “She’s a part of who I am, who I’ve become.”

Her expression had softened slightly, and he searched for anything familiar—for that part of her who’d held him in her arms as they sailed into the Khaznot Quay.

“Wait… so you… are my mom?” Fin asked, voice breaking.

The Crest nodded. “In a way. Her individuality, her personality, her thoughts—those are gone, now and forever. But her memories, I have those. They come with the essence of who she was. And that’s still here, in me. After getting it back, I couldn’t just let it be cut out again.”

She reached out and took his hand, crouching so that they were face-to-face. “I know it’s hard to see. I know I can seem… I can be cruel. But believe me, I would have protected you.”

Fin pulled back. He was pretty sure what had happened up until now wasn’t protecting anyone. “By throwing me in a pen? By enslaving people like me and telling us we’re nobody?” He looked back to Fig. Her face was a mask of fear, sorrow, and confusion. Her hands clutched the glowing wish orb tight to her chest. “By stealing the wish orb and unleashing the Salt Sand King?”

The Crest grabbed his arm and pulled him back to her. “Yes!” she said. “When the Salt Sand King comes, everything will change for the Rise and the Fade. We have a real chance to undo the way we’ve lived for millennia! But somebody has to be there to explain it to our King. Someone with the station of the Rise, but not their heartlessness.”

Fin snorted. “So you expect me to believe that even though you want to free the Salt Sand King and help him conquer all of the Pirate Stream, you also want to help me and the Fade.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Next thing you’ll say you’re proud of me and Vell equally.”

“I am,” the Crest said. For the first time, possibly ever, a real smile stole across her face. “People are complicated, Fin.”

“People are ‘complicated’ because people are weak,” Vell broke in. He sneered at Fin. “She’s been your mother,” he said with an impatient wave of his hand, “for far too long.”

He pushed Fin aside so he could confront the Crest directly. “I understand this happens. The Fade are weak and stupid. They do foolish things, they die, they have to be removed. What I don’t understand is why you allowed that weakness to live in you.”

“Humanity isn’t weakness,” the Crest began.

But Vell cut her off with a sharp shout. “This is why we lost the game! This is why they escaped our blockade, why they got away from us in the first place!” He gained speed as he talked, body coiling like a cat. “This explains why we’ve yet to take the orb. Why we’ve yet to free our King and conquer the Stream.” He leveled his eyes on the Crest. “Because you’re weak.”

The Crest ignored him, turning back to Fin. Behind her, Vell’s expression shifted as something seemed to suddenly occur to him. “Because you’re weak,” he repeated in a whisper.

Fin realized too late what Vell’s statement meant. Already Vell had stepped forward. Already he’d slid his knife free of its scabbard.

And before Fin could move. Before he could even utter a warning, Vell thrust the blade into the Crest’s back.

Her eyes went wide. A hiss of shocked pain slipped through her lips. A moment later, blood bloomed across her chest in a violent gash of scarlet.

“No!” Fin screamed.

He lunged for his mother, catching her in his arms before she could fall. Slowly, carefully, he lowered her to the deck.

It was all too much, all too fast. He’d just found her again. Even though he wasn’t sure who it was he’d found. “Why did you—why did she take me?” His voice quavered as tears spilled down his cheeks. “Why did you both leave me?”

“Because love isn’t a weakness.” She gripped his arm. Her breathing came short and fast, her eyes black with pain. “Remember our star, Fin.” Her words became labored. She pressed trembling fingers against his cheek. “I never forgot.”

There was so much Fin wanted to tell her. So many things stored up in his heart from all the years apart. But the words wouldn’t come.

And then she was gone.

Fin’s heart shattered into so many pieces that he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to find them all again. Uneasiness rippled through the ranks of the Rise and the Fade, but Fin ignored it. Closing his eyes, he let his forehead drop, pressing it against hers.

The Crest. His mom. He didn’t care which she was, because she’d never forgotten him. All these years she’d still looked up into the sky at night, searching for the star that reminded her of Fin.

Vell let out a cry of victory. With a whirl and a flourish, he turned to the ranks of his soldiers. “As the new Crest of the Rise, it falls to me to secure the orb,” he announced. “I shall be the one to call forth our King. I shall be the one to unite us to his will!”

He then glared down at Fin menacingly. “Move aside, Brother Fade. You’re in the way of my destiny.”

Fin took a deep, shuddering breath. He’d been demolished, beaten. Resisting at this point seemed hopeless. And yet, as he cradled the body of his mother, he knew he couldn’t give up. Someone had to stand between the Rise and the wish orb. Someone had to stop the coming of the Salt Sand King. And he knew now that he could be the one to do it.

He’d been loved. He’d been remembered. He was worth something. And tonight, he thought as he struggled to his feet, tonight when the sky slides into darkness, my star will still be there.

If the Lost Sun didn’t pull the sky down first.