The Drowning Faith

She’s the only divine thing he’s ever believed in. The only creature in this vast, cruel land who could kill him. And sometimes, in his loveliest dreams, he imagines she does.

It takes the dirigible sixteen hours to traverse the country, but just six to get from Arlong to Tikany. In six hours he’ll be face to face from Rin. In six hours they’ll see, at last, which of them has the will to finish things off.

They’ve been going back and forth, he and Rin, for what feels like a lifetime. But it’s got to come to an end. All the rest–all the scheming, the minor skirmishes, all the political infighting–means nothing. The future of the Republic hinges on one outcome only: her death.

Her fist against his face. That lovely, familiar pain.

He wants to feel like he has a choice. That if he does this, at least this is his doing . But he knows that’s not true. They are, both of them, bound by forces far behind their making: vicious paths that put them in this spot, across each other, never on the same side.

Their visions of the future don’t include each other. There is no compromise or neutrality. Only her way.

Or his.

It doesn’t matter that he loves her. It doesn’t matter. It’s never mattered.

What matters is what she is, and what she’ll do.

Fat chance,” she sneers. “I’ve just gotten the fire back. I don’t intend to give it up.”

Please, Rin. Please, for once, don’t be brave. Be smart.

Nezha swallows. This is a test, and Rin is failing, and his heart is breaking. But he needs to continue the show.

He can’t take his eyes off of her. She’s the most magnificent thing he’s ever seen.

Rin leans back, trailing her fingers through the water. Flames dance up and down her wrists, skim capriciously over the gentle waves. She’s showing off, he knows. She loves this.