Chapter 65
Chapter Sixty-Five
My eyes blink open. I’m in my bedroom in Arbinj.
Rose petals scattered beneath rumpled sheets. Frost and winter rose fill my lungs with every inhale.
But I’m alone, my wife’s side of the bed cold.
Where is she?
Soft carpet beneath my feet. “Mayah?”
No response.
Then—I see it. The balcony door, ajar.
And there she is, my wife, gazing out at the gardens, illuminated by early morning light. Dark hair curling around her shoulders, feet bare against the balcony’s stone floor.
My wife. She hears my footsteps and turns, one hand resting on her rounded belly. Her cheeks are damp with tears, but the bright smile on her face rivals the rising sun.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
The balcony shakes. Wha—
Stone crumbles beneath her feet, plummeting into the gardens below.
No. No. Nononononono. I run for her, arms outstretched.
Her smile falls before she does.
My eyes blink open, heart beating in my throat. The phantom terror of my dream clings to me like thick smoke.
The room shakes. Mayah rests on my chest, warm and asleep and alive.
A low rumbling shakes the bed.
The bed sways, the jerky motion eerily similar to the time a ten-year-old Lev thought it’d be funny to shake his cottage by wrapping roots around the base and jostling it.
“Mayah!” Her eyes flutter open, bleary with sleep. The room shakes again, dread pooling in my gut at the violent rumbling.
The lantern on the dresser rocks onto the ground and shatters.
I sit up, bringing Mayah along with me.
“Earthquake?” she asks, voice panicked.
“Earthwielder.”
We need to escape before we’re buried beneath rubble. I rise from the bed, tugging on a shirt and tossing one of my spares to Mayah. There’s no time for anything else.
But first…
I rummage through the dresser drawer, quickly finding where I’d stashed the betrothal ring. I shove it into my pocket before turning back to her.
Hands laced together, we hurry into the hallway. The rumbling never stops. I bang on every door we pass. Dust falls from the ceiling. I walk faster, dragging Mayah with me, but she jerks her hand free and slams her fists against Sura’s door.
“Sura!” she shouts, voice ringed with panic. “Tumaas!”
The floor shakes violently.
“There’s no time,” I growl, reaching for her. But the building shakes again, knocking her off-balance and onto the floor.
Sura’s door flings open, but it’s Tumaas standing in the doorframe.
“Where is Sura?” Mayah asks, staggering to her feet.
“She said she was with you!”
Fuck, we don’t have time for this.
“We need to go. Now,” I bite out. I reach for her again when—
The building rattles wildly, an earth-shattering crack cutting through the air. I fall backwards. Mayah staggers the other way.
The floor splits open between us, giant roots erupting from the widening crack. She vanishes from my sight.
“Mayah! MAYAH! MAYAH!”
I scream her name again and again, feet scrabbling for purchase as the building falls out from beneath my feet. The floor shudders before it gives away, and then I plummet.
A wooden beam slams down onto my shoulder with a bone-rattling thud.
Dust invades my eyes, nose, mouth, but I manage to claw towards what I hope is a doorframe.
It’s solid beneath my grasp, unyielding beneath the weight of the mayhem—thank the Skies the responsible earthwielder had the foresight to wield wood around metal beams.
People scream as we plummet, the building crumbling around us. Every faint, harrowing cry has me straining my ears, trying to discern whether it’s Mayah. The building quakes for what feels like hours, but it must only be minutes.
A loud boom.
Cracked beams and rubble encase my legs up to my calves. Nothing feels broken. I stagger to my feet, kicking loose debris. Every inhale sends more dust spiraling down my throat, until I can’t swallow without tasting destruction.
I suck in a deep inhale anyway. “MAYAH!” I shout once more with all my might.
Silence answers.
Faint energy signatures thrum, so muted I hardly notice them. Everything is muddled. I can’t tell which is Mayah—if any.
She was near Tumaas. He’d have shielded her. If I were her—or him—I’d be climbing out. There’s no chance of finding her within the bowels of the collapsed building.
So I climb. I carve out a path through broken stone and splintered beams, crawling through the crumbling darkness. Blood or sweat drips into my eyes—it’s too dark to tell which. With aching knees and raw, scraped hands, I climb.
Dread suffocates me as I emerge atop a mountain of rubble. Or maybe it’s the dust. Thunder rumbles overhead, rain falling steadily over the camp.
It’s chaos.
Screaming people, fallen buildings.
And blood. It mingles with rainwater, pooling in murky puddles on the ground. I swivel my head, scanning every direction. No sign of her.
She made it out. She had to. Tumaas was with her—he’d have been able to heft stone and beam and make a path for them. If she were injured, she’d have healed herself. Logically, I know those are the most likely options, but they bring me no comfort.
Knocking away more stone, I yank up the man I’d found halfway up the climb.
“Can you stand?” I ask, scanning him closely. Cuts mar his severe features, and he favors his broken left arm.
The man nods, blue eyes taking in the mayhem. His nostrils flare at the stench of burned bodies.
“Then let’s go.”
I help him climb down the mound of stone, balancing him when a rock gives away beneath his feet, face twisting as the motion jostles his broken arm.
“Find shelter,” I tell him when we reach the bottom.
And then I run.