Chapter 55
FIFTY-FIVE
CYAN
The sword weighed heavier than ever in his hand. He stared at Elaina’s pale face, and every part of him screamed to haul her away from those stones. All around the grove, darkness blacker than the night had crept in, the Architect’s claws drawing closer.
“This isn’t right. There has to be another way.”
“There isn’t,” Elaina said. The air crackled around them, the forest holding its breath. “You know there isn’t.”
“This thing is just a toy, Elaina.” His grip shifted on the weapon, the familiar weight suddenly foreign in his hands. “A relic I found in the woods. It can’t kill the Architect.”
“No,” she said softly, and the resolve in her voice made him still. She looked at the blade with that focused intensity he recognized—the same way she’d examine broken tech she was about to understand. “You made it more than that. All those years, all the meaning you poured into it… you turned it into a part of yourself, Cyan. The strongest part of you.”
She looked at him, calm and certain. “I can feel it, Cyan. The same way I feel this shard. They’re connected somehow—your conviction, your choices. That sword isn’t just steel anymore.”
He wanted to deny it, but how many times had this blade felt like an extension of his own will? A limb he couldn’t live without?
“I brought you here to goddamn protect you!” he yelled, his patience breaking.
“You are ,” she pleaded. He saw how hard it was for her to move toward him, stepping on stone after wretched stone to close the distance between them until she could place a hand on his armored chest. Her palm left an icy print on his chest plate. “Cyan, listen to me. I know what I’m asking you to do.”
Bile rose in his throat. He couldn’t move, barely breathed, as he stared into her forest eyes. She wasn’t scared, and she wasn’t backing down.
“I feel it,” she whispered, her hand squeezing his arm gently. “I can survive this. You have to trust me.”
His heart splintered. This could free her from her fate. He could do that, if only he could find the faith to be brave enough.
Slowly Cyan nodded. His hands shook as he lifted the sword, blade catching the moonlight. His body went numb, trembling but feeling nothing. The sword felt alien, wrong in his hands. He felt alien and wrong.
“I love you,” he repeated something he should’ve said a long time ago.
Elaina smiled at him. “I know.”
She tilted up her chin, asking him for one final thing. Cyan’s lips brushed hers in a tender kiss, lingering as he tried to hold onto her for just a moment longer.
“I’m ready,” Elaina breathed once they parted, determination sparking in her eyes. “Do it.”
The sword's weight shifted in his grip, growing lighter as though shedding years of borrowed purpose. Looking at her, he saw not fate's design but a choice. His choice to trust her or to run, again. This time he wasn’t running.
Stifling the primal scream that wanted to break free and forcing himself to give her the peace of silence in that moment, Cyan brought the blade down.
The sword pierced her heart with a sickening crunch. The blade sank deep, and Elaina gasped, a frown twisting her brow. Her body jerked as the metal buried itself in her chest, the dim light catching on its surface.
A deafening crack tore through the clearing.Flocks of birds took flight from the trees, wings beating loudly in panicked unison. Its echo reverberated through the stone circle. The blade splintered into a thousand shards in Cyan’s hands, metal exploding outward, scattering across the ground like shattered stars. The force knocked Cyan backward, sending him sprawling onto the earth.
“Elaina!” he cried, scrambling back toward her across the dirt and rock. He fell to his knees beside her, hands shaking as he reached for her.
She said she’d live. She sounded so certain. She said he could trust her.
But dark blood seeped from her chest and pooled beneath her, melting into the cracks of the ancient stones. Elaina lay motionless at the center of the circle, her eyes half-closed, her body fighting for shallow breaths.
“No,” Cyan rasped. He scrambled, pressing his hand against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “No! You promised . ”
The light faded from her eyes, and they fell shut.
Cyan’s desperate roar was swallowed by the night as he gathered her limp form into his arms and cradled her close, his hands trembling as he pressed his forehead to hers, his tears dappling her cheeks .
“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry…”
He wanted to take it back. To bend time. To refuse her. To drag her out of that damn circle when he had a chance and hide her away from the world, from the Architect.
But it was too late.
Elaina was gone.