Chapter 63
Chapter Sixty-Three
“E mylia.”
The word barely reached me.
Maalikai’s voice was low. Wrecked.
I turned.
He was kneeling, cradling Thrainn’s hand. My uncle’s body was crumpled beneath him, chest heaving, blood pooling beneath his frame like a spreading shadow.
Collapsed. Broken. Drowning in his own blood.
A wet cough escaped him. Then a gurgle. Then?—
“Uncle.”
I dropped beside him, grabbed his blood-soaked hand and held on like I could anchor his soul in his body with grip alone.
His eyes met mine.
Dark. Hollow. Dimming.
He was slipping.
His body was a ruin—sliced, pierced, leaking life onto the dirt. A trail of smeared blood showed where he’d dragged himself, just to kill one last bastard before collapse.
His voice came in fragments, rasped and gory. “Don’t… waste time… on me.”
“No.” My voice cracked. “We can get you out. We’ll carry you. Please, Uncle, just—just hold on.”
He didn’t hear me. Or maybe he did, and he was already letting go.
“Make sure Triska… the girls…” he whispered. A single tear carved a clean path down the blood-caked ruin of his face.
“You’re going to be okay.” My breath caught as I pressed my hands to the wound in his stomach. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
But he pushed me away with the last of his strength. His hand was trembling, sticky with blood, and still trying to be gentle.
“It’s too late,” he murmured. “I know it. And so do you.”
“No.”
I wasn’t ready. I’d never be ready.
But his hand fell away. And I felt the moment something inside him gave up.
No.
I called the water.
My palm shimmered, then glowed—an ethereal blue. The color of healing. Of hope.
I pressed it to a wound. The magik flowed. His flesh began to knit. Muscle reformed. Blood slowed.
But it wasn’t enough.
I’d already used too much. Fire had claimed my strength.
The blue began to flicker.
“Come on,” I begged. “Please, please don’t go.”
I poured everything I had into him.
My body shook. My skin burned. My vision blurred.
But he was still dying.
And I couldn't stop it.
Fury consumed me—hot, primal, volcanic. Flames burst across my fingertips, coiling into a sphere before I even knew I’d summoned it.
I hurled it.
Three fleeing warriors vanished in a scream of fire, their bodies turned to ash before they hit the ground. Maalikai had already cut down the final two, blood still dripping from his blade.
Fury still burned in my veins, magik pulsing hot and violent beneath my skin, but it all vanished as I looked back down at my uncle. Replaced by determination.
“I’m going to fix this,” I promised. “I’m going to save you.”
He shook his head, weak but certain. “Don’t… waste anymore time on me. Go.”
“No.”
I slammed my hand to one of his wounds again, pressing hard to stem the bleeding.
“I said no!” I ignored him.
His blood surged between my fingers. I called on the water. Let it rise, let it coat my palm in the healing glow of blue. I didn’t even think—I just poured it into him.
Flesh began to stitch. Muscle twitched.
But not fast enough.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You have to be okay.”
His fingers twitched, tried to shove me away.
I shoved them back.
“Stop,” he growled. “You’ll kill yourself if you keep?—”
“I don’t care!”
The scream ripped from me—ugly, raw. “You don’t get to die here! You don’t get to leave me, do you understand? I need you!”
Maalikai reached for me. I slapped his hand away.
“I can do this!”
My magik surged. Too fast. Too wild. I felt it drain me, tear into my ribs like claws, but I didn’t stop. I poured every last drop of strength I had into my uncle’s torn body.
And then it flickered.
The blue light dimmed. The wound split open again.
I pressed harder. Shaking. Sobbing.
“I can fix this!”
“Emylia.” Thrainn’s voice was a shadow. “If you draw more, it’ll take you with it.”
“Let it!” I screamed.
His hand rose—weak, shaking—but still somehow stronger than mine. He cupped the side of my face.
My breath hitched, my soul crumbling. “Don’t make me… watch you die too.”
“I can’t promise that.” The sound that came out was laughter, but broken beyond recognition.
He was fading. I could feel it. His soul unraveling under my hands.
“No,” I begged, rocking forward. “Please. You can't leave me.”
His eyes fluttered.
He looked at me—really looked at me.
“Find Sebastian. Stay with him.”
“What—?”
“You’re his... You’re everything…”
He couldn’t finish.
His lips parted. His eyes widened.
And the light disappeared from them.
It didn’t dim.
It vanished .
Just like that.
One second he was there. And then—gone.
Gone.
I didn’t scream.
I didn’t cry.
I collapsed.
Every ounce of strength bled out of me, just like it had bled out of him. My hands fell to the ground, slick and shaking. My chest seized, lungs refusing to work. My vision blurred, but I didn’t blink it away.
He was dead.
My uncle. My anchor. My family.
And I hadn’t saved him.
I couldn’t save him.
A sound burst from my throat—half sob, half scream, jagged and feral. I doubled over, shaking, fingers clawing into the blood-soaked dirt.
I felt Maalikai’s arms around me. Heard his voice.
But none of it registered.
All I knew was the silence in Thrainn’s chest.
The stillness in his hand.
And the hollow echo of my own heart breaking.
I buried my face in his shoulder, keening. “I tried,” I whispered. “I tried.”
Maalikai didn’t answer. He just held me tighter.
And I broke.