By Elizabeth Jane Shelton
Maire strode through the center of the war camp, head held high, one hand resting on the pommel of her sword. The phoenix crest on her scarlet robes identified her for anyone who still hadn’t heard the stories, and murmurs trailed behind her as people bowed and rushed out of her path.
“…leads the Vanguard…”
“…most powerful magic in a century…”
“…nearly took out the Darkest Night with one blast…”
One man leaned toward his companion, and Maire passed close enough to hear his hushed whisper. “I heard she lost her magic.”
The rumors had run rampant through the camps in the week following the Battle of the Forge. Rumors that the brightest spark in the Queen’s Vanguard had gone dark. Rumors that the people’s supposed savior had lost her powers.
Maire ignored them for the most part. Armies thrived on hope.
The guards stationed outside the meeting tent saluted sharply as she neared. Inside, the queen and her highest-ranked officials gathered around a table, poring over maps and ledgers. Maire grimaced. Who knew war produced so much paperwork?
The queen looked up from a conversation with General Ulrich. “Maire! Join us.”
Warren nodded in greeting as she drew closer. Normally the Vanguard’s second-in-command would salute his leader, but since Warren was also her fiancé, they’d dispensed with the formality.
“What have I missed?” she asked him quietly.
Warren made a face. “Politics.”
Maire sighed. There was always politics where Queen Aria was concerned. That was why Maire had been happy to cede her right to the throne to her younger sister, and in exchange, Maire had been able to become something much more useful to the kingdom.
A weapon.
Warren’s eyes narrowed. “Are you all right? You look tired.”
Before Maire could respond, Ulrich slammed a fist against the table. “It’s time for Maire to defeat the Darkest Night once and for all.”
Maire’s stomach churned, and she glared at her second-in-command. Warren had neglected to mention that the “politics” were about her. “What’s this?”
Aria straightened. “In three days, General Ulrich wants a full-scale attack on the Darkest Night’s army.”
Maire gripped the side of the table to steady herself. She couldn’t even light a candle right now.
Ulrich nodded to Maire. “You can defeat it, my lady. We all saw the strength of your fire at the Forge.”
“But three days? So soon?”
“Why not? Unless…” Ulrich took a step toward her. “My informants have heard some nasty rumors of late, my lady.”
Warren laughed. “Oh, come on, Ulrich. Surely you don’t believe them. Right, Maire?”
Maire’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.
Warren’s eyes widened. “Maire. Say it’s not true.”
She wouldn’t lie. Not to Warren. “It’s true. I can’t use my powers.” The words tasted like ashes.
One heartbeat. Two.
Then everyone in the room was talking at once.
“Maire why didn’t you say—”
“Is this normal? When will they be back?”
“But the Darkest Night—”
Spots swam in her vision. The room whirled around her.
And then, nothing.
***
Maire woke on a soft surface. She opened her eyes, and after a moment, the hospital tent came into focus.
Warren sat on a chair beside her bed, and when he saw she was awake, he sprang to his feet. “Maire? Are you okay?”
Maire groaned and pulled herself into a sitting position. “Tell me I didn’t pass out.” Warren’s grimace was all the answer she needed. She closed her eyes. “I’ll never live that down.”
“Maire.” Warren’s voice was devoid of its usual playfulness. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Maire looked away, one hand curling close to her chest, where she used to feel the magic surging. “Everyone needs me to be powerful,” she whispered. “How can I admit that I can’t save them?”
Warren perched on the edge of her bed. “Hiding the truth didn’t help, either.” He raised an eyebrow. “Look where you are.”
“I know.” Maire swallowed. “What am I supposed to do? The spark is gone, Warren. I’ve trained and trained for this moment, and now I’m not strong enough.” The heat missing from her heart found its way into her voice, and tears slid unbidden from her eyes. “I am a weapon. Without my powers, I am nothing.”
Warren’s eyes blazed. “Do you think that’s all you are? A weapon?”
“I am whatever the kingdom needs me to be.”
“What about what I need you to be?” Warren grabbed her hand, and she could see how much he was hurting, too. “What about healthy? What about alive? Maire, you’re taking on too much. Your spark isn’t gone because you’re weak. I wager you’re smothering it trying to hold everything together by yourself. And if you don’t let go, you and the kingdom will be lost.”
Maire’s shoulders began to shake. “They expect me to save them, Warren, and I can’t.” The shaking turned to sobs. “Last time, I nearly died.”
“Last time, you were alone. You chose to go in alone. But you don’t have to. You don’t have to save them. You’ve already done so much. Now, let the rest of us fight. It’s not all up to you anymore.”
Warren took a deep breath. “You’re powerful, Maire. Not because of your fire, but because of who you are. Your bravery, your leadership, has given people hope.” He tapped the insignia on her robes. “This is who you are, remember? Our phoenix.” He kissed her forehead and stood. “Take your time rising, Maire. And when you do, the rest of us will rise with you.” With that, he left her alone.
In the stillness, Maire stared at her hands. Hands that wielded fire as well as a sword. Hands that held the weight of the world. And yet…
It’s not all up to me anymore.
She felt a fraction of the weight lift.
And deep within her, the tiniest spark flared to life.
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Wow, I really got invested in Maire as a character in such a short time! This is a great and very relatable depiction of burnout, and the importance of having people around us to ground us and encourage us! Fantastic job!