the two towers | umber v tick

He was still afraid. There was no use in denying that: Umber was scared. He would've believed it if someone told him he'd always be scared by this point. He'd seen too much, felt too much. To know that a person was capable of suffering this much firsthand was so much different than his sheltered experience of death growing up. He'd seen so many bodies be buried and until now, until this arena, he wasn't bothered by them. Umber supposed there was a marked difference between some old lady who died in her sleep and a girl who can't see getting mauled by a wyvern before his eyes, but the end result wasn't all that different, really. A permanent sleep. A finality.

"Your bodyguard's gone," Tick said. Umber wondered if that's all anyone saw: a clever boy from a lower district hiding behind the biggest, strongest career. It was true that both he and Georgie would've likely died a dozen times over without Noah's help, but it was more than that.

Wasn't it?

The corners of his mouth edged out into a frown. "Friend," Tick corrected then, perhaps sensing the reaction as it unfolded before him, and then he corrected himself again, "Friends."His voice was the thing most unlike Terrence. His older brother spoke with the same cold tone as most from Twelve, but Terrence's voice was higher and more angry. Tick spoke with a velvety resoluteness, a soft absolution.

It didn't make the pain any easier to endure. And in fact, there was some sort of sacredness surrounding the deaths of his friends that somehow seemed to be violated by Tick's mention of it. How dare he, Umber thought, how dare he know.

"That's rough. Must hurt."

"You came alone, too. You would know."

The only difference is that Lucius wasn't one of the faces in last night's anthem, which meant he wasn't dead wherever he was. Maybe just dead to Tick. That's how Georgie almost went, iced away from the others because of whatever sickness was warping her mind. Warping them all, he considered.

The most logical thing Umber could think to do was stay away from the edges and try to be quicker. Tick was older than him, and though about as lanky, he was certainly stronger. After all the time Umber had considered falling, and all the care he'd taken to prevent it from happening, it would've been salt in an already-fatal wound for that to be his end. If Tick wanted this end to happen quickly, he'd have to do it with the pointy end of his sword.

Hoping to maintain some distance between them, Umber pulled the boomerang he found in this very tower from beneath his cloak and threw it as hard as he could at the other boy.

The boomerang arched around the circular room, spinning end over end before making its final purchase by slicing into Tick's face. As it went clattering to the floor, he kept his eyes focused on the boy's face, on the gaping wound across his cheek. Umber gasped, sucked in air through his teeth from the secondhand pain of seeing it. Suddenly, standing there and watching as the new crooked cheshire smile became the only happy part of Tick Anwar, Umber felt his own body cringing and contorting. His teeth ached, his ears. Tick's hand went to the fileted flesh there in some attempt to hold himself together, but it was too late for that.

"You little shit," He spat, blood dripping from his lips. His rage had already taken him; the reservations he may have previously held were out the window now.

Umber couldn't blame him. It terrified him, certainly. But to expect Tick- or anyone for that matter- to stand there and take it without ever dishing it back would've been mental. Umber was the youngest sibling; the sense of fight or flight that kicked him into gear was one he was all too familiar with. Little shit? He'd been called worse. Even still, dish it back is exactly what Tick did, moving too quickly for Umber to entertain the notion of moving out of the way. The sword grazed his side, cutting through his shirt to reveal a line of pale skin already beading with blood. Umber winced from it, wanting desperately to create some distance so that he could sustain his own life for a bit longer. But Tick had stepped over the boomerang in his pursuit and was now standing between where it laid and where Umber stood. It wasn't like he could just run and jump off the edge.

Then he remembered the stairs leading down further into the tower, and the massive shelves filled with books and scrolls. If there was a place he could hide in this place, it was down there. And it would get him out of this wind, which he was becoming increasingly convinced wasn't coincidental as it continuously grew in power. Each gust was more powerful than the last, catching his cloak and pulling him back, straining the circlet indented into his skull while his hair whipped around him and his ears ached from the whistling.

The repository. That was an idea...

He tried his hardest not to let his gaze give him away, thrusting up his weapon to let it occupy his immediate attention.

"Gotta be quicker than that!" He called, taunting the older boy while he sidestepped closer to the trapdoor exit. He waited for the exact moment the other boy made his move, so he could run as fast as he could.

"Get back here"

Confirmation that the hunt had begun was all Umber needed to go- just go, anywhere, everywhere, any place but here. It wasn't a question of how fast his feet could carry him down the steps, or how quickly he could round the corners without slipping over the edge. If he stopped now, he was caught. If he stopped now, it was over.

More than once he lost his footing, palm pressed flat against the curved inner-wall of the tower to keep him from tumbling. Several times, he heard Tick's blade cutting the air, whistling against it. Heard the impact of it where he'd just been moments before. No, no, no, no- He wouldn't call what he felt panic but it was so close he didn't know what else it could be. Something primal, driving him to survive no matter the cost. His scraped knees stung with sweat and he dared not even spare a glance behind him for fear of what he might see.

He did not need to see it in order to feel it: the harsh bite of the sword into the back of his thigh. It ripped itself down the back of his leg, threatening to make him lose his footing altogether, had he not caught himself on the railing to keep up with the momentum.

Faster, he willed himself. He was horrified to see the results of it, but if the pain was anything to go on, it wasn't going to be pretty.

The bottom of the tower loomed near; he could see the darkness of the cave mouth spilling before him. he could feel the cold draft of stale air pouring from it. He could hear Tick's footsteps only a few behind him, still not relenting.

When Umber came to the last landing, he leapt, skipping the entire last section of stairs before collapsing end over end into the cave, feeding himself to the darkness. He rounded the corner of the first shelf and then stopped, pressed his back flush against a bookstand, tightened the grip of his glaive.

Just as soon as the older boy rounded the corner, he swung as hard as he could.

Strings of blood mixed with the saliva dripping from his chin as the boy tried his best and failed to take in breath. The pain was blinding white, excrutiating. He wondered if Tick's sword had actually pierced a lung, or if it had only felt like it. He wheezed in an inhale at last. Another hit like that and he was done-for, he knew it. But maybe there was still a chance, if he could-

Please.

He was done-for already. He'd been done-for since the moment he turned to see the boy standing in the space with him. There was no one around to save him, no wyvern to ride away on, no corner to duck behind.

"I don't want to die afraid," he said, no longer bothering to put on a brave face. He'd been afraid too much and he was tired of feeling like prey. He was struggling to stand at that point, rummaging beneath his cloak to pull out a piece of flint. He did not want to fear Tick anymore, so he didn't. He wouldn't allow himself to. It made it easier to see the truth.

"Tell Kelsier he's welcome when you see him next," he said, gravelly tone, "It isn't the ending I would've chosen for myself, but it is better than however they wanted it to go." Umber tripping over the edge of the stairs, or going mad like Georgie had. Something to make it look easier. Something to make it look better. 

Umber struck the flint against his blade and watched as sparks caught onto the pile of nearest scrolls. The edges of the papers began to curl and peel, before being reduced to ash. Smoke began to swallow the room. There came a moment when Umber could've tried to leave, and he did not take it. Wouldn't have worked, anyway.

He'd stopped crying. Did that mean he wasn't scared anymore? The last thing he produced from his pockets was one of the scales he found in that lagoon. "Give this to my brother. You used to look alike, you know, before-" he gestured to the gaping wound on the boy's face. He also didn't mention that Terrence would've hated him at this point, for what he'd done and for what he would do next.

Behind him, the flames spread from one shelf to another, and Umber raised the glaive with an unsteady grip, daring the other boy to finish it quickly before he got trapped. It'd really all been for nothing, huh? The career girls in training, the blind girl in the treetops. The storm and the stone curse. The cure. The dreams. This very tower that'd been calling to him.

Georgie.


                     Noah.


                                             Tsiuri.


                                                                       D'arcy.



                                                                                   None of it mattered?

"Leave this tower," 
he said.

"And leave me with it."

With one final goading gesture, Umber struck out with his blade.

Umber mattered because he said he did. No one would take that from him. It was a foolish effort to remain any longer when it hurt so much to do, but the will power inside him refused to let it come gently. If death wanted him, it’d have to earn him.

The flames had quite the appetite for the dry old records and secrets and scrolls, quickly spreading all the way up to the crumbling ceiling. His eyes reflected the flames for the briefest moment before he closed his eyes and waited for the end. It would be quick, he hoped. Rather than causing more pain, it'd end his suffering once and for all. It'd make him feel better, Umber told himself, waiting for the strike that would strike him down.

A moment passed.

Another.

He still felt his heart thrumming in his chest.

He opened his eyes and where the boy had been standing moments before, pieces of collapsed ceiling burned in a haphazardous pile. There had been no cannon; Tick wasn't under there. As easy and convinient as that would've been for Umber, his respite lasted only a few moments before he noticed movement in the corner of his eye.

"Kid, shut up."

Umber found that his fear was slowly being replaced by anger. Shut up? These were his final moments. This was the place of his death. Shut up? There was a world where he went all feral in that moment and lost his cool, same way he had in his reaping. Maybe it was the lack of energy or maybe he knew it didn't matter either way. One thing he did know was that he'd clearly struck a nerve. He wouldn't go out on anyone else's terms so that it was easier for them.

"Nice one," Umber teased, provoking him to wrap this up already. There'd been too much suffering here already. It needed to end one way or the other and Umber knew it needed to happen sooner rather than later.

Monster, Umber's gaze said. He didn't know if he meant it or not. He just wanted to live. A beat of silence.

"I said to go. There's no sense in us both dying here!" In fact, if Tick was so set on staying, Umber had no complaints being the one to walk away. The path to the exit was narrowing more and more by the second, though- it was only a matter of time before both of them were doomed to burn.

"Or you could stay and die, and I'll go."

He didn't want him to, though. This was Umber's tower. He deserved to keep it for himself if-

He would've preferred if Tick died somewhere else.

Unsteadily, he brought himself to his feet. The heat wall of the flames made him squint, but at least it wasn't difficult to see down here anymore. The place looked more haunted alight than it had in the darkness. Though Umber supposed the flurries of ash and smoke were likely not helping the case currently.

"Tick-tock, Tick."

It was not silently that he swung, it was with a scream.

Baleriya had warned him in his dreams that Twelve would never be his home in the way it was before. He'd thought she was being metaphorical. Yes, this arena would change him, but everything he fought for was waiting back there, how could it have truly never felt like home to him? But for the first time, Umber realized that if he went back as just a body, he wouldn't be buried in the cemetery his family owned. He'd get placed near the Victor's Village, a simple marker with his name, age, and placement in the Games.

Reduced to a statistic.

All it made him think of now was the argument he had with Roslyn after their grandpa died over which of them would be buried next to him. Back then it'd seemed like such a nebulous thing, a storm gathered far away in the horizon.

Now Umber couldn't fathom a life without the threat of death looming over him. The rain had come. He'd seen it wash away almost every aspect of the childhood he once held so dearly, and now all that remained was the bare bones of him, the truest parts he'd hidden furthest away.

His lips parted to show blood-laced teeth, a humorless smile. Unsteady breath, for a moment the blaze was silent and he was hundreds of miles away in the safety of his bed, looking down at the spring water slowly soaking back into the earth with breakfast on the stove downstairs. Then a shelf collapsed and sparks and embers went up in a glorious flash, Umber with them. Human child of the brood mother, at one with the flames.