Chapter 15 Jysarra 🌙

No.

No, no, no. I can’t feel this way.

You don’t love her.

You can’t.

…

I do…

A tear, unbidden and unwanted, escaped down her cheek. She had survived this once already. She wasn't sure she could survive it twice.

Then the first scream shattered the night.

Every lesson drilled into her since childhood rose to the surface.

The captivated crowd dissolved into chaos. Arrows were whistling through the air. Jysarra spotted archers atop the wall and rooftops all across the square. They were dressed in dark leathers with featureless off-white masks that hinted at the idea of a face. Dozens of them. Perhaps even a hundred or more.

Jysarra’s focus snapped back to the front row. Kyra was nowhere to be seen. Dread coiled tight around her heart, but Jysarra knew she couldn't give in to that feeling. Another volley of arrows rained down from the walls and found purchase in the fleeing populace including one of her sisters, Nimriel.

“Vallístra!”

Six glowing darts materialized out of thin air and, with a sweep of her hand, streaked up through the night sky to strike their attackers. Jysarra ran over to Nimriel and pulled the arrow free, drawing a scream from Nimriel, and laid a hand over the wound.

“Mi essë i Cale, na envinyaina.”

Divine light flowed from Jysarra to Nimriel. The wound stitched itself back together as if it had never existed in the first place. She helped Nimriel to her feet and off the stage. Jysarra spotted Silmariën some thirty feet away against the wall with several other Dark Ladies sheltering as many citizens as they could. She walked Nimriel over and sat her down against the wall before turning back toward the chaos. Agents of the Faceless were among the crowd itself now brandishing blades and maces.

“Jysarra.”

She turned and Silmariën tossed her a sword. Jysarra made her way towards a group of the Faceless preying on several people. Two of them rushed at her. She held the blade up before her in a silent salute, then sidestepped the first thrust. Her head dipped back and she rolled under the arcing cut of the second agent. Her blade carved through the back of his knee. Before he could even drop to the cobblestones, her blade pierced his back and through his heart. The first agent rushed forward again. Jysarra drew the blade back and parried the next strike aside, then drew it across his throat with startling speed.

She stepped past him as he clutched at his throat, pulling a dagger from the sheath on his belt as he fell to the ground. She turned it over in her hand and, with a flick of her wrist, it sailed through the air and embedded itself in the skull of another Faceless readying to strike a young woman with a mace.

Jysarra heard heavy footsteps, an angry scream, then the whistle of an arrow whipped past her and silenced that same scream. She glanced to her left and saw another masked thug fall to the ground, an arrow in his throat. Then she looked right. Kyra had mounted the stage, bow in hand, and was loosing arrows with startling speed and uncanny accuracy. The Faceless atop the walls were falling one by one as Kyra’s arrows struck true with every shot.

She really is an excellent shot.

Kyra held another shot for a heartbeat, her gaze finding Jysarra. A bolt of panic raced through her, but Jysarra stomped that down as quickly as it had come on. She did not have time for that now. She continued toward the remaining two thugs. One had a boy held captive, knife at his throat, while the other brandished a mace with a spiked head. The one with the mace stepped toward her and raised the weapon to strike. Jysarra shifted toward his offhand, but he twisted his wrist and brought the mace across his body toward her. She barely had enough time to bring her blade up and absorb the worst of the strike.

She staggered backward, off balance, then the back of his hand connected with her cheek and sent Jysarra flying to the ground. She rolled with the momentum, the sound of metal hitting stone as the mace came down hard where she had been. Jysarra sprang up, reset her feet, and waited for his next move. The thug feinted left, then moved right and swung at her. Jysarra stepped inside of his guard, caught his wrist, and spun under his arm. She brought the point of her blade beneath his ribcage and drove forward with every bit of strength she possessed. A strangled cry escaped him, then he collapsed as she withdrew the blade.

Jysarra snapped her head back to the remaining Faceless agent. His gaze kept flicking around the square as though expecting someone to save him. They would fall to her blade like the rest had. She stalked toward him. He brought the blade up to the boy’s neck.

“Don’t come any closer!”

Jysarra didn’t break her stride.

“I mean it!”

The point of the blade pressed against the boy’s neck, drawing a drop of blood and a frightened gasp. Her eyes narrowed on that featureless mask. Jysarra did not have time to waste on this coward.

“Galondel.”

The word drifted off her lips along with a flick of her wrist. The sickening sound of searing flesh was quickly drowned out by the man’s screams. The knife clattered to the ground as he clawed at himself before finally going still.

Jysarra turned the sword over into a reverse grip, letting the flat of the blade settle against her forearm. It kept the weapon close at hand while making her intentions as nonthreatening as possible. She crossed the distance between herself and the few people that the Faceless were assaulting. The boy, who couldn’t be more than eight, was trembling where he stood. Jysarra sank down to one knee and gently turned his chin to survey the knick the knife had made.

“Are you hurt?”

The boy had tears running down his cheek, but he nodded slowly to confirm he was unhurt.

“Good. My name is Jysarra.”

"E-Erwin," he said, his voice shaking.

“It’s nice to meet you Erwin.”

Her voice surprised even her. Calm. Gentle. As though the battlefield did not exist.

“You see those ladies over by the wall?” She pointed toward Silmariën and the others. “Those are my sisters. They’re going to protect you.”

She scooped him up with her offhand and gestured for the others to follow. An arrow hissed past them, striking another attacker, and Jysarra dared a glance over at Kyra. Lindarëa had joined her on stage, cutting down any enemy that tried to get at Kyra. Jysarra would need to thank her later. She handed Erwin off to one of her sisters, turned, and rushed back into the thick of battle without a word.

Her destination this time was Kyra. If something happened to her… no, she couldn’t dwell on that thought. She’d made it all of ten feet when someone tackled her with enough force to drive Jysarra into the ground and leave her breathless. Her sword clattered against the cobblestones just out of her reach and Jysarra lay there a moment coughing.

“Hello lover.”

She heard her blade being kicked away, then footsteps approaching until a pair of worn leather boots were just a breath away. Jysarra pushed herself up with a groan and sat back onto her heels. Mairen stood before her brandishing two daggers and a smile that belonged on someone watching fireworks instead of a battlefield.

“Mairen, whatever issue you have with me, it needs to wait.”

“Why?” she asked, taking a lazy look at the chaos all around them. “These people don’t matter.”

Jysarra spat out blood, wiped her lip, and stood. She held Mairen's gaze for a heartbeat, then took a step toward the stage. Mairen grabbed her wrist and pulled hard enough to cause a sharp pain in Jysarra’s shoulder.

“Don’t you walk away from me!”

Jysarra turned, grabbed Mairen’s arm with her free hand, twisted underneath and behind, then placed her foot into Mairen’s back and pushed her away. She turned and continued toward Kyra, but she couldn’t even get three steps before Mairen was upon her again.

“You’re mine, not hers!”

Mairen had grabbed onto Jysarra’s shoulders. Again she pivoted and twisted to come face to face with her, bringing both arms up to break Mairen’s hold. Jysarra pushed at her hard and Mairen stumbled backward.

“Wherever it is you call home, Mairen, go to it.”

Jysarra had barely taken a step before she heard the first footfall. She swung around to face Mairen only to find her sliding beneath her. She hooked both of Jysarra's ankles, and Jysarra came crashing to the ground, her face striking the worked stone. Darkness swam across her vision and a low, persistent thump filled her ears. She felt hands on her, then she was turned over and the press of a body was atop her own.

“Just like old times. I missed this.”

Mairen smiled as though they'd merely stumbled into one another after years apart. She brushed a loose strand of silver hair away from Jysarra's face.

"You always did look prettier beneath me."

Jysarra was still trying to regain her senses, though she was vaguely aware it was Mairen sitting on her. A hand grabbed her chin, the fingers digging into her jaw so hard it hurt. Jysarra grasped at the hand, but it was easily swiped away. Then, she felt the forceful press of lips on her own. Not tender and loving like Kyra’s, but aggressive and jealous. Every trace of dizziness disappeared. Jysarra’s eyes shot open wide and stared into Mairen’s red ones. She brought her leg up, hooked it beneath Mairen’s arm, and pushed her off. She dragged herself to her feet and shook her head, clearing the last of the haze from her mind.

“How dare you.”

“I missed the taste of you,” Mairen said, wiping her lips before licking her fingers.

Jysarra’s lip curled in disgust. The part of her she'd spent years burying begged to be unleashed. To break Mairen. Kyra and Lindarëa were fighting off a group of the Faceless now. She needed to get to her. Mairen was on her again before she could even move. Jysarra was done with this game. She turned into Mairen, clamped a hand around her throat and squeezed, then kicked her leg through Mairen’s to slam her into the ground.

“Enough! I am not yours.”

That smile never left Mairen’s face. Jysarra hated it. Mairen craned her head, best that she could, to look over at Kyra. Jysarra’s gaze followed.

"I hope you fucked her when you had the chance." She tilted her head. "She's going to die wondering why she was never enough."

She wasn’t sure which word had been the trigger, but Jysarra didn’t particularly care. Something inside of her snapped. Her fist cracked across Mairen’s face. Again. And again. Over and over. Mairen just laughed as Jysarra’s rage poured out of her. She stopped only when her fist stopped feeling like her own. Finally, her arm shaking and numb, she fell off Mairen and onto her back. Her breathing was ragged. She hadn't realized she'd been screaming.

Another gurgling laugh escaped Mairen.

"You always leave us broken."

Jysarra’s chest tightened. Tears welled in her eyes. Tears that she blinked away.

All you know how to do is hurt people.

You’re nothing more than a weapon.

Shut up. Leave me be.

Every muscle in Jysarra's body protested the movement. She rose back to her feet anyway. She staggered over to where her sword lay, hooked a foot beneath the guard, and it sprang up to her battered hand. The blade came down swiftly at Mairen’s throat, stopping just short of drawing blood.

“Go.”

She flicked the blade to illustrate her point.

“While I still allow it.”

Before Mairen could reply or even move the bellow of a horn filled the square. The few clouds in the night sky glowed a rich gold, then formed into the shape of an insect. A firefly. More figures rose up all around in worn leathers or padded armor, tattered cloaks of deep forest green, and a vast array of masks carved out of tree bark, but all of them featured that same glowing symbol.

The Firelights had arrived. They gave battle to the Faceless upon the walls and rooftops. An eagle swooped down from the sky, clawing at one of the thug’s faces, then transformed into one of the Firelights. Jysarra was silently thankful for their aid, but she wouldn’t be dwelling on that now. She left Mairen where she lay, turned, and sprinted towards the stage.

She vaulted up to it and swept the legs out from one of the Faceless as she did so. Jysarra jumped to her feet and drew the blade across his throat, then stepped aside a strike and, with the same motion, took another's head. She stepped into another of the Faceless’s path, parried a swing of his mace, then used the momentum to bring the blade down in a slash across their body. She was breathing hard, though not from exertion. Blood stained her ivory vestments.

A single footfall sounded behind her. Jysarra turned on her heel and swung the sword. Every muscle in her arm screamed as she forced the blade to stop. Kyra stood there, eyes wide, and a single lock of copper hair floated gently to the ground having been severed by her blade. Kyra’s hand rose up and she reached for Jysarra. She stepped back and dropped the sword.

“Jessie.”

“No. No, no, no.”

Jysarra turned toward the crowd and saw Mairen standing amidst the chaos, a knowing smile splayed across her face. Jysarra’s chest went tight. She couldn’t breathe. She almost hurt her. She almost killed Kyra. Mairen was right. The Spider Queen was right. She’s only a weapon. She only knows how to hurt people. Jysarra blinked once and Mairen was gone, disappeared into the crowd to end up who knows where.

Whistles echoed across the square as the City Guard poured in from every available sidestreet and alleyway. The remaining agents of the Faceless ran if they could, taking to the sewers or running toward the river. The Firelights melted into the crowd, casting off pieces of their clothing as they disappeared.

Jysarra’s breathing was coming in short, ragged gasps. She couldn’t get enough air. Darkness and haze swam across her vision once more as she fell backward onto the stage. She felt hands on her, trembling but tender to the touch.

“Jessie!”

The voice was laced with panic and concern, but distant in her mind as if echoing out from a cave.

All I know how to do is hurt people.

I’m nothing more than a weapon.

A tear traced slowly down her cheek.

Then there was only silent darkness.

***

Jysarra awoke embraced by silk sheets and the soft drum of rain against the windows. As her eyes fluttered open she saw she was in an elegant bedroom that instantly reminded her of Kyra’s back at Aurenhold. A lone candle burned low on a table across the room, casting a soft amber glow over the furnishings. She pushed herself up slowly, her sword arm groaning as she did. Her face was tender where it had met the cobblestones.

The memories came in flashes, but the one constant was violence and blood. She’d almost hurt Kyra. Almost killed her. If she had reacted just a moment later…

Jysarra needed to leave. To get as far away from this city, from her, as possible. She couldn’t do this again. She simply wasn’t strong enough to bear hurting another person, especially one so beautiful, compassionate, and pure of heart as Kyra.

She crept toward the door as if she was stalking an assassination target. As Jysarra pulled it open, voices drifted on the air, faint but familiar. One was certainly Kyra's. The other, she suspected, was Katarina's. She stepped out into the hallway, bracing herself against the wall as she made her way toward a spiral staircase that descended into the entrance hall. The voices grew louder and clearer with each step she took. It quickly became apparent that this was less a conversation than an argument.

She padded down the stairs like a predator, hoping to evade Kyra’s notice and slip out a side door. Unfortunately, that idea died a moment later as Katarina stomped past the staircase, Kyra following just behind.

“This conversation is over,” Kat said with finality.

“Would you just listen to me for once?”

“What you're saying makes no sense.”

Katarina had turned and saw Jysarra. Kyra’s gaze followed, a smile replacing the look of indignation as she ran up the stairs to her.

“Jessie.”

Kyra wrapped her arms around Jysarra, squeezing her so tightly that a squeak escaped her. A few short hours ago she would have given anything to stay in Kyra’s arms forever, but now Jysarra needed to get away before her resolve crumbled. She pushed gently at Kyra, but the girl clung to her with surprising strength.

“I was so worried when you collapsed on stage.”

Kyra leaned back just enough to look up at her.

“Are you all right?”

“I am sore, but otherwise unharmed.”

Jysarra reached behind herself and unlatched Kyra’s hands. She held them before her, letting her thumbs brush over the rough skin of Kyra’s knuckles. Gods, why did she have to see her? Why didn’t she just go out the window and disappear into the black of night? Jysarra wouldn’t be able to go through with this.

“Kyra, it’s beyond late. We can speak more on this tomorrow.”

Kat turned on her heel and made her way out of the entrance hall without another word. Kyra gave Jysarra’s hand a squeeze and she smiled gently at her.

“Come darling.”

Jysarra’s chest went tight at the term of endearment. For just a moment, everything felt right. That she could let go of all her fears and worries and just… be with Kyra. That would be a wonderful fate. Kyra took a step up and beckoned Jysarra to follow her.

She should have kept going. Made up some excuse why she had to leave, but she couldn’t. The moment Kyra gave a tug of her hand Jysarra followed without a second thought.

“What were the two of you arguing about?”

“Oh, it was something I saw during the battle.”

Jysarra waited for a beat, but Kyra said no more. She continued leading her up the stairs and down the hall back toward her bedroom. Jysarra gave her arm a tug and rooted herself in place.

“Don’t bring something like that up and then not tell me.”

Kyra stood there a moment. She shuffled from foot to foot and chewed at her lip.

“Something tried to take me. I swear it was Captain Dallmann, though his skin was pale and hair thin. The face became something like… like the idea of a face. As if something was trying to remember it.”

Jysarra’s eyes lit up at that.

Fuck me. He’s a Changeling. That’s why they have the masks. To look like him.

Kyra gave another small tug of her hand that shook Jysarra out of her concentration. When she looked at her, Kyra was wearing a smile that made her heart skip a beat.

“Come on. Or are you suddenly getting cold feet about being in a pretty girl’s bedroom?”

Jysarra’s gaze fell to the ground as she let herself be led again. She truly was weak. She couldn’t even muster the courage to tell Kyra how she felt. Or even make up some lie so she could run. Kyra struck a match and lit the bedside lamp, bringing light back to the room.

“One of your sisters came by and dropped off a change of clothes for you.”

Kyra gestured to the bag lying on the chair.

“I can give you some privacy.”

“I need to tell you something.” Her voice trembled. “And if I don't do it now, I'll lose my nerve.”

Jysarra pulled at the laces on her vestments, then popped the buttons in quick succession. She shrugged out of the blood stained garments, letting them pool at her feet before stepping out of them. A bolt of anxiety shot through her as she stood there naked, which was a wholly unfamiliar feeling. She pawed gently at her hair, bringing it around to shield her chest from view. Jysarra grabbed the black leather pants and slid into them, then immediately pulled the boots on before even bothering with the belt.

“You had something you wanted to discuss?”

Kyra’s voice placed a halt on everything Jysarra was doing. She swallowed hard, then dared a glance back at her. Kyra stood just at the other end of the bed, back to her, not looking. Because of course she wouldn’t look. She’s a lady. Proper, courteous, and respectful. She turned back and finished tying off the laces on a boot before working at the other.

“It’s just that, I’ll need to join my sisters in the hunt for the Faceless.”

“All right. Is that all?”

“No, um…”

Fuck. Why is this so hard? Why’d you go and fall in love? Lúse.

She should just be out with it. Just tell her that this isn’t going to work. Wouldn’t that be cruel, though? Jysarra couldn’t do that. She finished the other boot, stood, and cinched the belt tight before grabbing the tunic. Before she could slip it over her head Jysarra felt the barest touch of fingertips on her back. They drifted gently over the scars there and it took Jysarra’s breath away.

She turned her head. Kyra closed the last inch between them. Their lips met. She had never folded so fast in her entire life. Jysarra shifted, Kyra pulled her down, and they fell onto the bed together. Kyra’s mouth kissed gently along her jawline and down her neck where she lingered. Then a breath ghosted across Jysarra’s pointed ear.

“Jessie… I want you.”

Every conscious thought and fear left Jysarra’s mind at those words. Her hands cupped Kyra’s face and when Jysarra kissed her she swiped her tongue across Kyra’s lips. Kyra opened her mouth, a soft moan being swallowed as Jysarra’s tongue found Kyra’s. Her hands made their way into Kyra’s hair, her fingers combing through the soft strands until she found one shorter than the rest. Her fingers stopped.

Panic crashed through her. Jysarra ripped her lips away from Kyra’s. She turned away from her and sat on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t strong enough for this. Kyra’s rough fingertips found their way to Jysarra’s back again, tracing the patterns of scar tissue.

“The way you moved during the battle.” She laid a soft kiss on Jysarra’s shoulder. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

I’m nothing more than a weapon.

She pulled herself back up and pulled the tunic on in haste.

“I can't do this. I can't do this,” she sputtered, fumbling with the laces beneath her throat.

The words were spilling out of her faster than her mind could process everything. Kyra’s hands came up to frame her face.

“It's all right. Just breathe.”

“Kyra–”

“I love you.”

Jysarra pulled away as if she had been struck. Kyra reached for her.

“Jessie–”

“Don’t… don’t say that. You can’t.”

“But I do.” Kyra’s hands found purchase on Jysarra. “Please, I just want to know you.”

“No, you don’t!”

Every memory she'd spent years trying to bury crashed to the surface.

“You don’t want to know that I made my first kill when I was fourteen!”

“I didn’t know.”

Tears welled in Kyra’s eyes. She grasped at the hem of Jysarra’s sleeves.

“Don't touch me!”

It was Kyra’s turn to recoil.

“Do you want to hear that the scars on my back are because my brother tried to kill me?”

“Yes! I want to know. Please–”

“You don’t! No one does!”

"Don't tell me what I want. You don't get to decide that for me.”

Jysarra’s eyes went wide, fury burning behind them.

“You think I'm some fucking charity case?”

“No–”

“Do I look like I need that?”

“No. I just want to be with you because I love you…”

“Don’t! Don’t fucking love me! Loving me gets you dead.”

Kyra was crumbling in on herself. Part of Jysarra was screaming at herself to stop. To wrap her arms around the girl and beg forgiveness… but she couldn’t. It was better this way. For Kyra.

“I want to hear you say that you don't love me.” Tears ran freely down Kyra's face. “Because if you do, I won’t stop you. I won’t come find you.”

Jysarra’s eyes snapped shut. Her breathing was ragged.

“I can't.”

Jysarra took one deep, cleansing breath.

"Please..."

Jysarra's voice broke.

"Just... hate me."

She turned on her heel and walked out of the room. There was nothing left to say. She heard Kyra’s cries until she staggered down the terrace and out of the courtyard. Rain poured heavily from the evening sky as if the heavens themselves were weeping at their parting. Jysarra staggered down the street for a block, perhaps two, before falling to her knees. She grabbed the symbol of the Dark Dancer hanging around her neck and pulled it free. Her lips pulled into a sneer as she stared at it. Then, she threw it into the darkness. The scream that followed echoed across the sleeping city. To anyone listening, it would be clear: Jysarra Kil’rahel was mourning the love she had just buried.