Powerful: A Powerless Story
Powerful: Chapter 10

I watch her climb into the coach, reliving the moment I watched Hera do the same.

When the door swings shut, she’s sealed from sight, likely smiling with her friend as though she wasn’t just wiping tears from her face. Tears that I am to blame for.

I used to wonder what it would take to break her. How long it would be before that happiness of hers was dulled like the rest of us. And now I wish I had never found out.

Because I did this to her.

I turn away when the coach begins rumbling down the road, stealing her away from me. Loot is overflowing with gawking bystanders, all smiles and waves for their contestant who stopped by for a visit.

Pushing carelessly through the crowd, I feel the weight of every surrounding ability, each of them threatening to smother me. It’s the first time in days that I’ve allowed myself to acknowledge the burden of it all, the sheer suffocation of power.

If only she knew what I would give to be like her, be what I lied about. Because the Wielder I am has only ever made me weak. Targeted. Alone.

But all of that was forgotten when I was with her. When I was simply a Phaser in her presence. Now I may never get the privilege of being in her presence again.

Maybe I should have let Father have his way with me. Let him finish what he started the day I earned that gash through my lips. It would have hurt less than lying to Dena through them.

But instead, I ran to Hera – and now I need to do it again. But this time, I’ll be the one saving her.

I shove through the crowd, my mind on the coach that rumbles towards the castle I should be going to tonight. I’ll need to rework my already risky plan, seeing that I won’t have Adena’s power to aid me. Sneaking around unnoticed is no longer an option. Simply posing as an Imperial is the only plan I have left.

I guess I’ll find out just how convincing Adena’s uniform is.

I’m suddenly standing before the door of my shop, shouldering it open with the familiar sound of screeching hinges. The room looks dull, dreary without her light to fill it. Scraps of fabric are all that remain of her, needle and thread my last tether to our time spent together.

I stride slowly around the room, surveying every surface she’s left in shambles. A thin coating of honey sticks to the corner of my work table, marking her usual spot. The padded wall for her practice punches still wears the indents of her knuckles. My eyes snag on the crumbled sheets that once draped over her figure, still smelling of her skin.

I shake my head, astounded by my absurdity. This was never meant to get so out of hand. These feelings were equally unwanted and unpredictable. She was intended to be a means to an end, the first step towards a new life far away from Ilya and the threats lurking within it. I was content to use her if it meant I could smuggle Hera out of these Trials. It was the hope I held on to. Because that was all I had left.

“You had me!”

Her pained voice echoes in my skull, forcing me to relive the bitter words. But that doesn’t make it true. Because I’ll never be able to have her, never be able to bottle her brightness, stow away her smiles. I don’t deserve her – and I’ve known that since the day I saw her with that godawful blue shirt. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

I slump onto the edge of my bed, eyes landing on a piece of fabric littering the floor. Bending to pick it up, my thumb brushes over the jumble of loose stitches.

It’s the scrap she forced me to practice on.

But it’s what she’s elegantly stitched up at the top that has a smile tugging at my scar.

Keep practicing!

I trace the letters over and over, reminding myself of the mission at hand. The one where I save Hera from these Trials, and myself from this kingdom.

I never imagined it would be this difficult to leave.

Because now there is her and every moment after.

I had never known happiness before her, and if there is to be an after in which she doesn’t exist, I know I never will again.

Dropping the fabric, I run cool fingers over my flushed face.

I should have listened to him. Should have turned myself in like Father so desperately wanted. Because I now hold Hera’s life in my hands after so many years of her doing the same for me.

I know what I have to do.

But nimble fingers and soft skin are suddenly tugging my heart in the opposite direction.

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