Divine Rivals: A Novel (Letters of Enchantment Book 1)
Divine Rivals: Part 3 – Chapter 41

She saw her nan. It was Iris’s birthday—the hottest day of summer. The windows were thrown open, the ice cream had left a sticky spot on the kitchen floor, and her grandmother was smiling as she brought her typewriter to Iris.

“Is this really for me?” Iris cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet. She was so excited it felt like her heart might burst.

“It is,” Nan said in her raspy voice, dropping a kiss in her hair. “Write me a story, Iris.”

She saw her brother. Forest was with her at the riverbank, cupping something small in his hands. This was one of their favorite places in Oath; it almost felt as if they were no longer in the city, but deep into the countryside. The rush of the currents masked the clamor of the busy streets.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands, Little Flower,” he said.

“Why?” Iris asked, but it was no surprise. She always asked why. And she knew she asked too many questions, but she was often filled with doubt.

Forest, knowing her well, smiled. “Trust me.”

She did trust him. He was like a god to her, and she closed her eyes and held out her hands, dirty from exploring the moss and the river rocks. He set something cool and slimy on her palm.

“All right, take a look,” he said.

She opened her eyes to see a snail. She laughed, delighted, and Forest tapped her on the nose.

“What will you name it, Little Flower?”

“How about Morgie?”

She saw her mother. Sometimes Aster worked late at the Revel Diner, and Forest would walk Iris there after school, taking her for dinner.

She sat at the bar, watching her mother deliver plates and drinks to customers. Iris had her notebook open before her, desperate to write a story. For some reason, the words were like ice.

“Working on a new assignment, Iris?” her mother asked, setting down a glass of lemonade before her.

“No, I have all of my schoolwork complete for the day,” Iris said with a sigh. “I’m trying to write a story for Nan, but I don’t know what it should be about.”

Aster leaned on the counter, quirking her lips and gazing down at the blank page in Iris’s notebook. “Well, you’re in the perfect place, then.”

“The perfect place? How so?”

“Look around you. There are quite a few people here that you could write a story about.”

Iris’s eyes flickered around the diner, taking in the details she had never noticed before. When her mother strode away to take an order, she took up her pencil and began to write.

She saw Roman. They were alone in the garden again, but it wasn’t in Avalon Bluff. It was a place Iris had never seen before, and she was on her hands and knees, weeding. Roman was supposed to be helping her, but he was only a distraction.

He tossed a clump of dirt at her.

“How dare you!” she said, glaring up at him. He was smiling, and she felt her skin flush. She could never stay angry at him for long. “I just washed this dress!”

“I know you did. It looks better off you anyways.”

“Kitt!”

He tossed another dirt clump at her. And another, until she had no choice but to abandon her task to tackle him.

“You’re impossible,” she said, straddling him. “And I win this round.”

Roman only grinned, his hands tracing up her legs. “I surrender. How shall I pay my penance this time?”

She waited for the bomb to fall. She waited for the end, and her mind flashed with memories, dragging her through the past with lightning speed. People she loved. Moments that had shaped her. She saw a glimpse of something to come, and that was where her thoughts stayed. On Roman and the garden they had planted together and how he was now standing five paces away from her, watching her as if he saw the same future.

At last, the bomb hit the ground.

There was a clatter as it rolled on the cobbles, eventually coming to rest in the crook of a soldier’s body.

Iris glanced at it, disbelieving. She studied the way it caught the light. A metal canister.

Her thoughts were slow and thick, still hung upon the what could have been, but the present returned to her like a slap to her face, waking her up.

This was not a bomb.

This was—she didn’t know what it was. And that frightened her even more.

The eithrals swarmed overhead. Their wings beat cold, rotten air and their talons dropped canister after canister, up and down the street. Panicked voices began to rise. The nurses, doctors, and soldiers who had been holding still broke into frantic motion.

“Iris!” Roman shouted, tripping over the rubble to close the gap between them. “Iris, take my hand!”

She was reaching for Roman when the gas hissed, spilling out of the canister in a green-hued cloud. It hit her like a fist, and she coughed, scrambling away from it. Her nose was burning, her eyes were burning. She couldn’t see and the ground felt like it was lurching beneath her.

“Kitt! Kitt!” she screamed, but her voice stung her throat.

She just needed some clean air. She needed to get away from the cloud, and she frantically moved forward, eyes clenched shut and hands outstretched, uncertain which direction she was heading.

Tears spilled down her face. Her nose was running. Iris coughed and tasted blood in her mouth.

She fell to her knees. She pulled the collar of her jumpsuit up to cover her nose and crawled over twisted pieces of metal and shards of glass and the remnants of destroyed homes, over soldiers who had died. She had to keep moving; she had to stay low.

“Kitt!” She tried to call to him again, knowing he had to be nearby. But her voice was shredded. She could scarcely draw half a breath, let alone shout.

Get to clean air. Then you can replace him and Attie and Marisol.

She continued to crawl, blood and drool dripping from her lips as she panted. The temperature was getting warmer. Through her eyelids, she could see the light strengthening, and she pushed toward it.

She tested the air, drawing a deeper breath. Her lungs blazed as she coughed, but she knew she had escaped the gas.

Iris stopped, daring to open her eyes. Her vision was watery, but she blinked and let the tears slip down her cheeks. She coughed again and spit blood onto the ground, sitting back on her heels.

She had crawled to a side street.

She glanced behind to see the cloud of gas and the people crawling out of it, just as she had.

I should be helping them, she thought.

As soon as she made to rise, the world spun. Her stomach rolled and she heaved onto the cobblestones. There wasn’t much in her, and she had no choice but to sit back down, leaning against a pile of stone rubble.

“Keep moving,” a soldier croaked to her as he crawled by.

She didn’t think she could. Her limbs were tingling, and a strange taste was haunting her mouth. But then the wind began to blow. She watched in horror as the breeze carried the gas toward her, down the winding side street.

Iris staggered to her feet and ran. She made it a few strides before her knees gave out, and she crawled until she felt like she could stand again. She followed a string of soldiers downhill. She thought she would be safe in the lower side of town, but more gas was rising on High Street, and she ended up turning around and racing toward the market, where the air looked clean.

“Iris!”

She heard someone calling her name. She spun and searched the crowd that had gathered around her, frantically looking for Roman, for Attie, for Marisol, for Keegan. It was time for them to flee. She felt it in her gut, and she remembered what Attie had told her the day before.

I’ll grab Marisol. You grab Roman. We’ll meet at the lorry.

“Kitt!” she shouted.

She was standing in a sea of olive uniforms, a sea of splattered blood and coughs and boots squeaking on the stones. A few of the soldiers now wore gas masks, their entire faces concealed as they rushed back toward the deadly streets. She had a moment of icy fear that she would be trampled if she was misfortunate enough to fall.

There was a flicker of red at the corner of her eye.

Iris turned toward it just in time to see Marisol and Attie weaving through the crowd. They hadn’t seen her; they were moving away from her position toward the east side of town, and she knew they were heading to the lorry.

The relief softened her, to know they were all right. But then her dread returned, sharp enough to slice her lungs. She had to replace Roman. She couldn’t leave without him, and she began to push her way through the throng, shouting his name until her voice was hoarse.

She needed to stand on one of the barricades. He would never see her like this, adrift in the crowd.

Iris began to work her way to one of the structures, shuddering when she finally broke away from the chaos. She took a moment to lean on her knees, to take deep breaths.

A firm hand grasped her arm, so hard that she knew she would be bruised by tomorrow.

She yelped and turned, frightened when she saw it was a masked individual. Their face was entirely concealed by a gas mask made of fabric, two round amber lenses, and a cylindrical gear for breathing clean air. She couldn’t see their face, but she could hear them inhaling, exhaling. They also wore a helmet, which hid their hair, and her eyes traveled down, taking in the jumpsuit they wore.

“Kitt! Oh my gods, Kitt!” Iris fiercely embraced him.

His hold on her arm loosened, but only for a moment. He stiffly created some space between them, and she frowned, confused, until he said, “Put this on.”

His voice was distorted from the mask, and it made her flinch. He sounded robotic, as if he were made of metal pieces and winding gears. But she saw that he had found a mask for her and she slid its leather thongs over her head.

It was like being in a bubble. The mask affected her every sense, and the world turned to shades of amber, slightly blurred. At first it was beautiful, but then Iris felt her panic rising. She felt like she was about to suffocate.

She clawed at the edges of the mask. Roman reached for her, turning the cylinder that rested near her chin. Cool air began to flow.

“Take a deep breath,” he said.

She nodded, sweat trickling down her back. She breathed and calmed the tide of her panic. She could keep it at bay, because she had him now. They would be safe.

“Kitt,” she said, wondering how her voice sounded to him. If it sounded like she was composed of sharp edges and cold steel. “Kitt, we—”

He took her hand. His grip was tight again, almost punishingly so, as his fingers wove with hers. I want your hand to be in mine, no matter what comes.

“We need to go,” he said, but she had the sense that he wasn’t looking at her but at something beyond her. Perhaps he saw Keegan, giving them the sign to flee. As Iris began to turn to see for herself, Roman tugged on her arm. “Come with me. We’ll be faster if you don’t look behind.”

He dragged her around the barricade, into the shadows of a quiet side street. She felt dizzy, but she focused on her breathing and followed him. Her hearing was not as keen in the mask, but she could hear her boots pounding on the street and a distant shout.

Roman paused at the intersection. She thought he was catching his breath until he glanced behind again and hurried to pull her onward, into a street that was swarming with gas. Iris winced as she followed him into the cloud, waiting to feel its sting in her lungs and her eyes. But the mask shielded her, filtering the air, and they emerged on the other side of High Street.

Roman hesitated again, as if he were lost.

Iris finally gained her bearings. They were far from the lorry, and she felt a cold prickling at the nape of her neck. Something didn’t feel quite right.

“Kitt? We need to go east. Attie and Marisol are waiting for us. Here, this way.”

She began to guide him in the correct direction, but he jerked her back to his side. “I’ll lead us, Iris. This way is faster.”

He hauled her onward before she could protest. She tripped over her boots, trying to keep pace with him. He must be scared, but it still struck her as odd. He wasn’t acting normal. She tried to study him as they ran, but the mask softened everything, and it hurt her eyes to strain them.

“Where did you get the masks?” she asked. “Shouldn’t we be using them to help those trapped in the gas?”

He didn’t answer. He only progressed to a faster run.

She finally realized it when they reached the edge of town. Her mind sharpened as they ran into the golden field. Roman was no longer limping. He was running as he had before his injuries.

She couldn’t catch her breath as she watched him sprint, cutting through the sweep of the grass. Powerful and strong, dragging her in his wake. The wind began to blow at their backs, as if pushing them onward.

“Kitt … Kitt, wait. I need to stop.” She pulled on his hand, which continued to hold hers like a vise.

“It’s not safe yet, Iris. We have to keep moving,” he insisted, but he eased to a jog.

They were almost to the place where they had once collided. Where Iris had covered his body with hers, desperate to keep him alive.

She would no longer be dragged by him like this. Something wasn’t right.

She sank to a walk, which forced him to also slow down. He glanced at her, and she wished she could see his face. She wished that she could see where his gaze was resting, because his hand tightened on hers.

“We need to hurry, Iris. It’s not safe.”

Why did he continue to say those words?

She had the overwhelming urge to look behind her. And she gave into it, angling her body so she could glance over her shoulder. The mask made it awkward, but she saw something in the field. A moving shadow, as if someone was chasing them.

He yanked on her arm. “Don’t look behind you.”

“Wait.” She dug her heels into the soil and fully faced the town. Her eyes focused on that strange shadow, which she realized was a man. A tall man with dark hair, running after her in a stilted gait.

She ripped her gas mask away, desperate to see without the distortion of the amber lens. The world flooded around her, bright and sharp. Yellow and green and gray. Her hair tangled across her face.

She saw her pursuer with shocking detail, even as twenty meters of golden grass stretched between them.

It was Roman.

“Iris!” he screamed.

Her heart stalled. Her blood turned to ice as she watched him run, his face anguished. Blood stained the front of his jumpsuit. He stumbled as if his leg was ailing him, but he regained his balance, pushing himself to keep running. To close the distance between them.

But if that was Roman, then who was she with? Who was holding her hand, dragging her across this field to the distant woods?

Iris looked at the masked stranger, wide eyed with fear. His chest was heaving, and he was speaking in that distorted tone.

“Iris? Stay with me. I’m trying to help you. Iris!”

She ripped her hand from his and spun, dashing toward Roman.

She took three strides before the stranger’s arms came around her, hauling her backward. Her anger burned like wildfire, and she fought him. She kicked and swung her elbows and dashed the back of her head against his mask, provoking grunts and curses from him.

“What do you want with me? Let me go! Let me go!” She dug her nails into his hands, drawing blood. She raged, keeping her gaze on Roman as he collapsed in the grass.

He was only fifteen meters away.

The wind gusted, blowing the gas in their direction. She froze when she could no longer see Avalon Bluff but only a wall of green, steadily making its way to them.

Roman needed to get up. Get up, get up! Her heart screamed, and she watched as he rose again, limping to her.

“Run, Kitt!” she shouted. Her voice was hoarse, frayed by terror.

The man holding her turned her around and gave her shoulders a good shake. Her neck snapped, her thoughts rolling through her like marbles.

“Stop fighting me!” he demanded. But he must have seen the fear that was shining within her, because his voice gentled. “Stop fighting me, Little Flower.”

Her world cracked in two.

And yet … hadn’t she hoped for this?

She found his name, hidden deep in her heart. A name that burned her throat. “Forest?”

“Yes,” he said. “Yes, it’s me. And I’m here to keep you safe. So stop fighting me and come on.” His hand found hers again, lacing their fingers. He tugged, expecting her to willingly follow him now.

She stiffened, pulling back. “We have to get Kitt.”

“There’s no time for him. Come on, we need to run—”

“What do you mean there’s no time for him!” she cried. “He’s right there!” She turned, desperate to see him again. But there was only the dance of the grass, bending to the wind, and the swirl of gas, creeping closer.

He must have fallen. He must be on his knees.

I can’t leave him like this.

Iris raged again, desperate to break away from Forest’s hold.

“Enough of this!” her brother growled. “It’s too late for him, Iris.”

“I can’t leave him,” she panted. “He’s my husband! I can’t leave him. Forest, let me go. Let me go!”

He wasn’t listening. He refused to release her. It felt like her fingers were about to fracture, but she fought him. She yanked and pulled and she didn’t care if it broke every bone in her hand. She finally slipped away from him.

She was free. The gas blew closer; she lurched toward it, defiant.

“KITT!” she screamed as she ran, her eyes searching the grass.

Where are you?

She thought she saw a shadow moving in the stalks just a few paces away. Hope sang through her until Forest’s hand found her neck, drawing her back to him. His thumb and fingers pressed down hard on her throat. Stars began to flare in her vision.

“Forest,” she wheezed, clawing at his ruthless grip. “Forest, please.”

A cold pang of terror shot through her. It was a fear she had never felt before, and her hands and feet began to go numb.

My brother is about to kill me.

The words reverberated through her. Echoed down her arms and legs as she flailed against him.

The light dimmed. The colors were melting. But she saw Roman rise from the grass. He was only five meters away. He could no longer run; he could hardly walk. Her heart broke when she realized he had crawled through the gold to reach her.

Blood dripped from his chin.

The wind swept the dark hair from his brow.

His eyes smoldered, burning a path to her. She had never seen such a fire within him, and it called to her, stirring her blood.

“Iris,” he said, his hand outstretched.

Four meters. He was almost to her, and she scrounged up the last of her strength.

Her hand was trembling, bruised and numb. But she reached for him, the silver ring on her finger catching the light. The ring that bound her to him. And she thought, I’m so close. Just a little farther …

She was suddenly hauled backward. Forest swore as the wind blew harder against them. The air began to sting her eyes, her lungs. The distance between her and Roman swelled again.

She tried to call his name, but her voice was gone.

She was fading.

The last thing she remembered seeing was the green cloud spin over the field, swallowing Roman Kitt whole.