She looked like I had just kicked her.


    I had been expecting shock, even rage. She had a lot to process with that question, but I needed an answer first. I didn’t have long before I was going to pass out. I had to finish the process before that happened.


    “Will it work?” She fought back bitter tears, “Will it work on me?”


    “I don’t know.” I shivered. The infection was spreading, “It might not work on me either, but I have to try.” I took a step closer to her, “I don’t want to be a zombie.”


    She closed her eyes to bottle up the pain. When she opened them, she reached out and grabbed my hand with both of hers.


    “Promise me.” She looked into my eyes, “Promise me that if this kills me, you’ll make them pay for what they’re doing.” Her chest heaved to contain a sob, “For what they did to them.”


    I could see Max out of the corner of my eye. Killing humans was not what the Bokor did, but sometimes the bad ones had to be held accountable for what they had done.


    “I promise,” I said.


    She nodded and took the stone from my hand, “What do I do?”


    I walked over to the city wall and smashed the heart stone I had against the stone. The stone hadn’t been cured, so it crumbled to dust once the outer shell was crushed.


    I swept most of the dust in my hand and watched Val mirror what I had done. I fought a final wave of hesitance and cupped the dust into my mouth.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    The dust was bitter and popped as it touched my tongue and cheeks. I resisted the urge to spit it out or cough and started swallowing. I lost the battle with coughing but clamped my mouth shut. I needed to swallow all of the bitter powder.


    My mouth was so dry I felt like I could drink gallons of water. There were no fluids around. Not in the pen anyway. I struggled to keep my mouth closed, but I lost to that too. The cough that broke my lips sprayed purple dust into the air. I sank to the ground, curling up in a ball as I coughed and heaved.


    I fought against losing consciousness. The fog begged to be allowed to engulf me, but I refused to yield. It was the only thing I had left that I could fight against, and I refused to lose.


    I lost track of how long I coughed. I had my eyes open, but everything was a blur. When the world finally stopped spinning and my eyes could focus, it was dark.


    The growl of zombies was all around me. I couldn’t see them, but I knew where they were. It was a skill that only a few of the masters possessed. While it was good to know where the zombies were, I wished I couldn’t. It felt like icicles on my skin, pointing in the direction of the zombies. Useful at the moment, and not a good feeling in general.


    I fumbled in my vest for the matches. The zombies were staying at the edges of the pen. I could feel the fear coming off of them. They could tell there was a Bokor in the pen and they didn’t want to be near me.


    I struck a match and saw Val lying next to the wall. Fear gripped my stomach. Very few women made it through the transition, and those were the ones who had trained their whole lives. I should never have offered her the stone. I had killed her with false hope.


    I poked her cheek. It was still warm. I brushed her hair back and saw a purple line running from her ear down her neck. The marks had taken! I hadn’t killed her after all.


    Val moaned and opened her eyes. I smiled as I saw her silver eyes look at me.


    “Byler?” She mumbled, “What’s wrong with your eyes?”


    “What?” I felt my face, there were no scars.


    “They’re purple.”