The Last One

by Rachel Howzell Hall

I open my eyes and choose violence.

The pendant’s clasp is as broken as I am,

Because, sweet honey in the rock, if this is the man who’s gonna save me, I’d let Johny capture me all over again.

In one hand, Kaivara holds fire, and in the other hand, she holds a cloud filled with rain.

“Jadon.” I nod to the metal clamped in the vise. “Your rod’s getting hard.”

I don’t even have to look back to know that he’s watching me…and that his rod is still hard.

Under the cover of night, weak men always find the courage to do their worst.

He makes me forget that my back aches.

‘Not knowing your past may be better than having an awful one.’”

Even covered with soot, ash, and the blood of others, Jadon is so…beautiful.

Humans, especially, can offer nothing to someone who can bend time and manipulate objects or whatever.”

wonder about the spider who spun it and I wonder if she hates having to build a web every day that must be then rebuilt every night.

Don’t Talk About It… Be About It

“I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but just because it’s big and wide doesn’t mean it’s good.”

Because losing him would mean losing my heart. Who can survive without a heart?

With death comes life.

Or am I being a petty bitch, which you know I embrace with open arms?”

I take a deep breath, then exhale. I hate agreeing with him.

“Oh, gentle Lady, Guardian of the Verdant Realm. Hear the humble plea of Thy devoted servant seeking the grace of Your divine touch.”

I should be all right. I’m a goddess, or did you forget?”

I’m tired of holding up my head. Words have weight. Sneers cause burns.

is bleeding on the inside and can’t express how she truly feels because she’s supposedly a goddess who must save the realm and doesn’t have time for feelings.

She is the darkness, she’s also dawn

His acts of softness and sensitivity are ploys. His gentleness is a field of thorny milk thistles. His gentleness is a bed of poison oak leaves.

I’ll join him in the next life sooner than I thought.

My bones, my heart, my core…all brittle. One fall, one ill-timed move, and I’ll shatter completely.

This version of Jadon is a prince by birth, not the man who crafted weapons and pretended to be a simple blacksmith.

Don’t trust anyone to bring you that which makes you whole. They may not want you whole.

Don’t trust anyone. Depend on you and you alone.

What was I even thinking, falling for a mortal? I’m a goddess.

My anger licks off of me in waves as hot and toxic as that sea and the plains before me.

She will destroy us all. Such a prophetic statement. Because yes, I will.