Free Daughter of Moth (The Moth Saga, Book 4) by Daniel Arenson Page B

arm. Her very clothes
seemed to burn.
    All across the hall, applicants
were crying out and releasing their grips. One by one, failed
applicants trudged dejectedly out of the room while victors stepped
toward Professor Yovan, rubbing their sore hands.
    "You look like a dying
rat," Lari said, sneering now. More sweat beaded on her brow.
"Will you squeal before the end?"
    Madori's entire arm shook as she
clutched the wishbone. She whispered through a clenched jaw, the pain
nearly blinding her. "I won't let go. I—"
    The pain burst out, doubling in
intensity. She gasped and nearly dropped the wishbone. She saw the
same look of surprise on Lari's face; the girl's eyes widened,
showing white all around the irises, and she emitted a little cry.
Across the hall, dozens of applicants screamed or whimpered, dropping
wishbones.
    Madori gritted her teeth, tears
in her eyes, and held on. Lari sneered like a wild animal, clinging
to her end.
    "I won't let go,"
Madori hissed, barely able to speak, barely able to remain conscious.
"I'll hold on even if my hand falls off. I—"
    The pain flared again, growing
even stronger, so strong Madori thought her skull could crack and her
jaw could spill her teeth. Lari screamed but clung on. Lightning
crackled along the wishbone and raced up Madori's arm, raising smoke.
Sweat and tears mingled in her eyes. Through the veil, she saw the
last few applicants drop their wishbones.
    Only Madori and Lari were now
still competing.
    "Give up, mongrel!"
Lari shouted, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face a rabid mask.
    The wishbone emitted a whistle
like steam from a kettle. Welts rose along Madori's arm.
    "You can do it, Lari!"
Madori shouted. "Hold on longer! I love seeing you suffer."
    The other youths all gathered
around them, forming a ring around their table. They were pounding
fists into palms, cheering, chanting.
    "Lari, Lari!" most
cried out.
    "Let the mongrel burn!"
somebody shouted.
    "Hold on, Lari!"
another youth cried. "Hold on and watch her burn!"
    Madori was weeping, trembling,
screaming, but she held on. The iron wishbone burned red, trembling
in her grip. The pain was a crashing sea.
    A single voice cried out from
the crowd—Tam's voice.
    "Madori! Madori!"
    A few other voices joined his,
and now some in the crowd were chanting for her. Madori could now see
only smudges, but she thought she saw the Elorians cheering for her.
    Her hand slipped.
    She nearly dropped the wishbone.
    It was too much. Too much pain.
Too much agony. It was lightning, it was fire, but it was also the
pain of her mixed blood, of her childhood, of endless taunts, endless
doubt. It the pain of a girl torn between day and night, and she
wept.
    I
have to let go.
    Before her, Lari was snarling,
teeth bared, face red.
    She
won't let go. I have to. I have to.
    She ground her teeth.
    No.
    She screamed and tightened her
grip.
    No.
I will hold on. No matter how much it hurts. Because I know pain. I
was born into pain. What is more agony? Pain has always been my
companion.
    Lari was shaking, her hair
standing on her head.
    "Enough!" Professor
Yovan shouted. "Girls, enough! Let go!"
    But Madori would not. Lari would
not. They clung on and the wishbone burst into fire . . . then
shattered in their grip.
    Madori fell back, her chair
flipping over. She slammed down onto her back. She clutched half the
wishbone in her smoking, seared hand. It still crackled in her palm,
driving fire through her. She would not release it.
    She blinked.
    Did
I win?
    She raised her head.
    She saw Lari still holding her
own half of the wishbone. The girl struggled to her feet, then came
leaping down onto Madori.
    "Feel this pain drive into
your heart," Lari hissed, shoving her half of the wishbone
against Madori's chest.
    Pain exploded like thunder.
    Madori screamed.
    The agony drove through her
chest, coiling around her ribs, wrapping her heart in fire, and she
kicked and thrashed and—
    The pain vanished.
    I'm
dead. She trembled. I
died. The pain