THE LAST DAWN
Chapter 20: The Knife of Ending
The knife trembled in Rowan’s hand.
The silver light blazed. The shadows screamed. The hunger pressed against him, testing him, tasting him, waiting. The seven figures stood before him — seven masks, seven robes, seven pairs of silver eyes. But one body. One hunger. One end.
“Cut us out,” the seventh figure had said.
He raised the knife.
The first figure stepped closer.
“You cannot hurt us with that.”
“We are not alive.”
“We are not dead.”
“We are between.”
“Then what can hurt you?”
The second figure laughed.
“Nothing.”
“Everything.”
“The truth.”
“The truth?”
The third figure nodded.
“The truth that we are you. And you are us. And we are the same.”
Rowan’s blood went cold.
“I’m not you.”
“Not yet.”
“But you will be.”
“The hunger is inside you.”
“It has always been inside you.”
“It has been sleeping.”
“Waiting.”
“Growing.”
Rowan looked at the knife.
At the silver light.
At the hunger.
“Why did you summon me? Why did you put me through the trials? Why did you show me the truth?”
The fourth figure stepped forward.
“Because we needed you to choose.”
“Choose what?”
The fifth figure raised her hand.
The torches flickered.
The shadows danced.
“To become the hunger. Or to become the end.”
The sixth figure stepped closer.
“There is no difference.”
“The hunger consumes.”
“The end releases.”
“Release what?”
The seventh figure looked at the knife.
At the silver light.
At the hunger.
“The world. The hunger. The pain.”
Rowan raised the knife.
The blade caught the light.
The Council watched.
The hunger waited.
The end approached.
“I choose,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Choose.”
“Choose.”
“Choose.”
He swung.
The blade struck the first figure.
She dissolved.
Not into blood. Not into bone.
Into light.
Silver light.
Bright and cold and hungry.
He swung again.
The second figure dissolved.
The third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
The sixth.
He stood before the seventh figure.
The smallest. The youngest. The quietest.
Her mask was plain. Her eyes were soft. Her voice was gentle.
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t thank me.”
“I must. This is the last chance I will have.”
“You’re not going to disappear.”
“I am. That is the price. That is the sacrifice. That is the gift.”
She reached out.
Her hand was warm.
“Remember us, Rowan. Remember the Council. Remember the hunger. Remember the end.”
“I will.”
She smiled.
It was a real smile, warm and bright and full of love.
“Then go. The hunger is waiting. The end is waiting. The world is waiting.”
She dissolved.
The silver light faded.
The darkness returned.
Rowan stood alone in the hall.
The knife was in his hand.
The hunger was in his chest.
The end was in his heart.