FIFTY-THREE
TETHERED
Physical prowess and relentless training prepare us for the battles ahead. Yet it is our bonds, our love, our loyalty, that grant us true strength. The spirit is the greatest weapon we possess.
By the gods . . . have I overlooked the most obvious answer all this time? Spirit. The very essence of the Spiritborn.
—VALEN’S JOURNAL
AMARA
Ilower my arms, instinctively bracing the injured one against my chest. The fire in my muscles fades into something colder, numb and burning all at once.
My knees buckle before I realize what is happening.
Pain sears through my side. My head throbs, and nausea churns in my stomach. Maybe it is the adrenaline wearing off. Maybe it is the aftermath of my first real battle. Whatever the cause, the world begins to tilt around me.
Calryx releases an anguished roar from somewhere behind me, but I can’t seem to tell her I’m okay.
Then Thane is there.
His face is streaked with soot and blood, fresh cuts marking his brow and cheek. A shallow gash runs along his jaw. Sweat tracks through the grime, and his dark hair is damp and tangled from the heat of the fight.
His smoke-gray eyes lock on mine with fierce concentration. He looks like a man who has just survived hell, has reached his limit, and refuses to lose anything else.
He catches me beneath the arms and hauls me back to my feet before I can collapse completely.
“Stay awake!” he barks, his voice sharp and commanding. “The bolt came from a Commander. You might well have been poisoned.”
He still sounds like the Warlord. Focused. Controlled.
But through the bond, I feel the fear tightening around him like a noose.
“By all the Elemental gods, Amara.” His grip tightens on me, careful of my arm. “I can see your bone! Why didn’t you say anything?!”
I meet his eyes, teetering. All I can manage is a weak nod.
Rowena appears a heartbeat later, sprinting across the scorched field. Her braid has half come loose, streaked with soot and sweat. Blood marks a shallow cut across her temple, and her leathers are torn and blackened at the edges. One arm is bruised, her knuckles split and bloody.
But she’s standing, battle-worn, but whole.
She takes one look at me, then at the wound along my arm and her expression hardens.
“What the hell happened?” she demands, breath still ragged from the fight.
“The Commander’s lightning tore her arm open,” Thane answers immediately, his jaw tight. “I’ve got to get her to the healers. Back to the capital.”
“Thane.” Rowena steps directly into his path. “You won’t make it in time. She’s losing blood and she’s pale. You know what dark magics like this can do.”
Thane turns on her, emotion finally breaking through the control he’s been holding together by sheer force of will.
“I have to try.”
The world suddenly tilts. Pain tears through my arm as he lifts me, and a scream tears from my throat.
“Gods, Amara. I’m sorry.” His voice is tight with panic. “Just hang on. Please.”
Then I’m cradled against his chest. My head falls against his shoulder, my vision swimming. My limbs feel boneless, as though the battle has drained everything from me and left behind only heat, pain, and trembling exhaustion.
I can’t hold myself upright. I can’t even find the breath to answer him.
But I know his scent immediately.
Leather and cedar.
Sweat and blood.
Smoke and battle.
For a moment, my mind drifts somewhere safer. Somewhere warm. I think we’re home. His arms are around me in bed instead of on a battlefield. It must be morning instead of the aftermath of war.
My eyelids grow heavier with every passing second. Maybe I can close them.
Just for a moment.
“Dammit, Amara!”
Thane is yelling my name, but it sounds like it’s coming from underwater. Muffled. Distant.
A hand smacks my cheek. Again. And again.
Gods, that’s annoying.
“Stop hitting me,” I mumble, the words coming out somewhere between a whine and a slur. My tongue feels too big for my mouth. My jaw refuses to cooperate.
Everything keeps drifting away. I force my eyes open.
Smoke-gray eyes and dark hair fill my vision. Familiar . . . but wrong.
This presence is smaller.
I squint.
Rowena.
Her face hovers above mine, smeared with ash and blood.
One hand is already raised, ready to hit me again. I groan and fling an arm upward. The back of my hand catches her shoulder. Rowena stumbles back a step, blinking in surprise. Then she straightens and nods once.
“Well,” she says dryly, “she’s still got enough fight in her to hit me. That’s encouraging.”
“For all the Elemental gods, Rowena!” Thane shouts, his voice raw with strain. He turns away from her, tightening his hold on me. “We have to move. We have to fly. Now.”
My vision swims again. The edges blur. The world narrows.
Calryx’s roar cuts through the haze like a blade, sharp and impossible to ignore. My vision clears just enough for the world to snap back into focus.
And then I hear her.
“Virelya!” Her voice crashes through my mind. “You are stronger than that black poison. Fight. Fight now, Spiritborn!”
The name strikes something deep inside me.
Not just a name.
A truth.
A reminder of who I am.
I fight and claw my way back toward awareness, forcing my breathing to steady and my vision to focus. The world drifts in and out, blurring at the edges, until my eyes finally find his.
Thane.
He’s looking down at me, his face tight, his jaw clenched, every line etched with fear he’s trying desperately to contain.
Then, so quietly I almost miss it, he speaks. “Hold on, my love.”
A hand settles on his arm just as he turns toward Xaroth.
Rowena.
Her eyes are full of resolve.
“Thane,” she says softly.
There is sorrow in her voice, but no hesitation.
“We have to do this here.”
Thane turns to her. For a moment, he doesn’t seem able to breathe.
“Amara can do this. She can heal herself. We just have to help her.” She glances at me just briefly before looking back at him. “You won’t make it in time if you try to fly to the capital. And you know it.”
Thane is still looking at me.
I want to tell him I’ll be okay. That Rowena is right. That I can do this.
But my body won’t cooperate.
Everything feels sluggish and distant, as though I’ve downed an entire barrel of strong ale and the world is swaying beneath me. My limbs are heavy. My thoughts drift. Even holding onto a single thought takes effort.
How do I tell him not to worry when I can barely hold onto myself?
I feel as though I’m slipping deeper with every passing second. The farther I sink, the darker and quieter it becomes.
But even from down here, I can still see the surface.
And I can still see him. He’s there, reaching for me. There is light there.
And I am not ready to let it go.
Calryx is yelling again and pounding her feet into the ground so hard that I can feel the vibrations through Thane’s arms. Her voice rattles around inside my skull, making my head pound.
By all the gods, dragon, we have a bond! You don’t need to yell!
But she can’t hear me. My words don’t reach her for some reason.
“Virelya! You must speak! Fight! Speak through the bond you share with the Warlord! Find the words! Use your mind! Push through!” Her voice thunders through my head, fierce and commanding.
The thought lags, like light filtering down through deep water.
The bond.
Yes.
That’s how I’ll reach him.
Not with breath. Not with sound. With thought. With will.
Everything around me feels muffled and distant. I’m drifting, suspended in something thick and cold. I’m sinking deeper and deeper into dark water.
I reach for the bond. Somewhere in the darkness, I know it’s there. The thread between us.
I picture it stretching through the depths, bright and thin, like moonlight on silk.
And I swim toward it.
Every part of me aches, but I keep moving. I will not drown here. Not while he’s still waiting for me.
Calryx is still yelling.
Gods, that dragon is loud.
What is she saying now? How can she talk to me when I’m underwater?
My head pounds. It feels like it’s splitting in two.
Where is it? Where’s that strand? That bond?
I swim and swim through black water, cold and endless, pressing in from every direction. There is no up or down. Only darkness.
Then Calryx’s voice tears through the void.
“You are the Spiritborn! Not some half-broken hatchling drifting through the dark! You do not get to give up! Not after everything we have done to get here!”
I flinch even here, even in the depths of this place.
But she isn’t finished.
“You are stronger than this black poison. Stronger than this weakness. Stop drifting. Find the thread and fight!”
Her fury slams into me, uncompromising. She knows what I am. What I am capable of. And she refuses to let me forget it.
Something catches my eye.
A glimmer in the darkness.
Small.
Silver.
Alive.
The bond!
I reach for it, but everything feels impossibly heavy. My limbs refuse to cooperate, moving through the darkness as though the water itself is trying to hold me in place.
How long have I been here? And how am I still breathing?
The thought drifts through me before I can hold onto it.
Then Calryx’s voice spears through the darkness again.
“That’s it! Keep reaching, Virelya!”
The force of her roar rattles through me.
“Thane is on the other side. He is waiting for you. Grasp that thread!”
Thane.
The dragon never uses that name. And yet the moment I hear it, something inside me lurches.
I know that name.
I know him.
He is my heart.
That truth cuts through the darkness, sharper than Calryx’s roar and stronger than the pain trying to drag me under.
He’s waiting for me.
I squint underwater. The thread is no longer distant. It shines through the darkness, glowing and unwavering. I reach for it with everything I have left.
And I grasp it.
The moment my fingers close around the bond, Thane floods into me.
His presence crashes through the darkness, fierce and familiar. I feel the panic he’s trying to contain, the ache in his chest, and the desperate determination holding him together.
He’s still reaching for me.
Still fighting for me.
Still refusing to let go.
I tighten my grip on the thread.