Chapter 31 #3
Falcen’s thumb brushes across my knuckles. Once, barely perceptible, like a reminder that he’ll take my secret to his grave. “The situation changed.”
“Indeed it did.” The Master Keeper’s attention moves to me, then back to Falcen.
“Your protective instincts are admirable, but the academy requires Elites who can maintain focus regardless of distractions. Perhaps your time away has made you weaker than I anticipated. It’s time we tested your focus more thoroughly now that you are a full-fledged member of our ranks again. ”
The way he says ‘distractions’ makes my skin crawl, but it’s Falcen’s reaction that terrifies me most and the careful blankness that slides over his features, like he’s preparing for impact.
“What kind of test?” Falcen asks.
“The northern territories have been reporting increased Void activity. Nether drakes, specifically. We need our most experienced Elite to investigate.” The Master Keeper clasps his hands behind his back. “A solo mission. Extended duration. You leave at first light.”
My stomach pitches. Hunting nether drakes?
The memory crashes through me, Mara’s massive, scaled body beneath us as we rode her, her wings like tattered leather sales against the midnight sky.
Falcen’s arms around my waist, steadying me as she banked sharply to avoid the sharp, deadened branches of the Blighted Forest. And the unexpected gentleness when she told me her name, her snout nearly brushing my forehead.
She wouldn’t have hurt us. Even without my strange ability to communicate with her, she would’ve chosen to help us. I know that down to my bones.
And now the Master Keeper wants Falcen to hunt them. Why? What about Heathan? What about what he was turning into?
Falcen’s grip on my hand tightens infinitesimally, his thumb pressing against my wrist where my pulse hammers wildly.
A warning. Be still.
The Master Keeper’s attention shifts to me, the eye holes of his mask revealing nothing but black. “Initiate Holbrook. How fascinating that you should suffer such a reaction during the demonstration. Are you quite well?”
Falcen speaks up. “She’s not used to witnessing combat the way the rest of the initiates are. Many seasoned initiates find it overwhelming, since we usually deal in soul essence and creature ichor, not Elite blood.”
As if to prove his point, retching sounds from the dugout draw our attention, one initiate heaving into the dirt as Heathan’s mangled body is lifted by two Hollows and carried away, leaving a thick, viscous blood trail.
“Is that what you believe happened?” The Master Keeper’s voice drips with amusement. “Initiate Holbrook, your own training will continue in Elite Reaves’s absence. I believe Keeper Malakai has some specialized exercises planned for you.”
The name hits me like ice water. Keeper Malakai, who made me kill an innocent girl. Who watches me during meals like I’m a specimen. Who asks too many questions about my awakening.
Falcen’s hand tightens enough to hurt. “That’s not necessary. Her training is proceeding normally.”
“Oh, but I insist.” The Master Keeper’s voice carries a finality that makes my ears ring. “Miss Holbrook’s late awakening presents unique opportunities for study. We’d be remiss not to explore them thoroughly.”
Training with Keeper Malakai while Falcen is gone hunting creatures that don’t deserve to die. The Master Keeper might as well announce he’s feeding me to a pack of Void hounds.
“I understand your concern for your student’s progress,” the Master Keeper continues, his mask tilting toward Falcen. “But surely you trust the academy’s methods? After all, we did such excellent work with you.”
His question carries a weight that makes Falcen’s entire body go rigid beside me. His thumb stops its gentle brushing against my knuckles, his hand becoming a vise around mine.
Falcen says, his voice carefully neutral, “I serve at the academy’s pleasure.”
But I hear the lie underneath, the way his vow scrapes against his throat.
“Excellent.” The Master Keeper turns to address the remaining initiates, who huddle together like sheep sensing wolves. “Class dismissed. Reflect on what you’ve witnessed today. True power requires sacrifice, sometimes of others, sometimes of ourselves.”
The initiates scatter with unseemly haste, but Rook lingers at the edge of my vision, her brown eyes wide with concern while Davrin smirks before shaking his head, grabbing Rook’s arm, and following the others out of the arena.
I want to reassure her, but I can’t form sound around the trepidation lodged in my throat.
“Unless, of course, you believe your personal attachment to the remnant supersedes your duty to Vehloria?” the Master Keeper asks as he turns back to us.
Falcen releases my hand so suddenly I almost stumble.
“There is no personal attachment,” Falcen says, his voice flat as winter stone.
Even knowing he’s lying to protect us both, hearing him dismiss me so coldly makes my heart crack.
“Excellent.” The Master Keeper sounds pleased. “Then you’ll have no objection to departing tonight.”
With a swirl of his pristine white robes, the Master Keeper departs the arena with the other Keepers.
Falcen and I don’t move as they leave. My mind is too busy racing with questionable panic.
With Falcen as my handler, I’d been trained to the point of exhaustion, but I’d felt safe with him.
With Keeper Malakai, I’m not sure I’ll ever feel safety.
The idea of a safe space even existing at the academy is laughable, but Falcen by my side has always made me think differently.
I realize with a sickening jolt that this will be the first time he won’t be nearby.
I’ll be on my own, fighting my internal battle, fighting to stay alive.
The Hollows are still dragging Heathan’s body toward the tunnel. One arm falls free, dangling from their hold, fingers curled like dead spider legs.
My ember stirs again, a weak flutter beneath my breastbone.
Not finished, she whispers. Not complete. We can make him whole again.
The familiar warmth builds behind my ribs, Ember stirring from her hiding spot. She blooms inside me like a flower opening to sunlight, except there’s nothing gentle about the way she floods my veins.
“No,” I whisper, but it’s too late.
The heat travels down my arm, pooling in my palm.
I don’t consciously decide to do it. My body betrays me when it jerks my arm toward Heathan’s limp form as the Hollows continue to drag him across the ground.
Golden threads shoot from my palm and latch onto Heathan’s corpse. The Hollows don’t notice, continuing their grim task as my magick wraps around their burden.
I feel the moment my soul power penetrates his cooling flesh. It’s like plunging my hand into icy water, then feeling it warm beneath my touch.
Heathan’s chest rises slightly. His fingers uncurl then flex, grasping at nothing. The unnatural black pallor of his skin recedes, replaced by a flush of returning life.
Yes, Ember croons.
Resurrection magick pours through me like liquid sunlight.
“Live,” Ember whispers through my lips—
Falcen’s hand clamps over mine with crushing force. His fingers dig into my wrist as he wrenches my arm down, severing the golden connection. Pain lances up to my shoulder, but the shock of his intervention breaks Ember’s control.
His eyes are wild, pupils dilated. “Are you out of your gods-damned mind? Do you want to die?”
I gasp as the power recoils back into my chest, Ember howling in frustration. “I didn’t—she was trying to—”
“Look at me,” Falcen demands, his grip still painfully tight. “Your eyes are black. Control it. Now.”
His fingers dig into my flesh with such force that the bones of my wrist grind together. It hurts an ungodly amount, but it’s nothing compared to the frostbite in his eyes.
“I said control it,” he says, dragging me closer until our faces our inches apart.
I struggle to breathe, to think, to force Ember back into the depths of my being. But she’s resisting, tearing at my insides, desperate to finish what she started with Heathan’s body.
“I’m trying,” I gasp, my voice breaking. “She wants him. She needs to finish purifying—”
Falcen cuts me off by yanking me against his chest, one hand still crushing my wrist while the other wraps around my waist and he clamps his lips over my mouth.
It’s not a gentle kiss, but a demand. A conquering.
The shock of it freezes me before I respond to him with a desperate need that all but buries Ember’s hunger.
Ember’s howl fades to a whimper as Falcen’s need overwhelms her, his soul-energy so bright and fierce it drowns out her golden glow. My knees buckle, but he holds me upright, his arm like iron around my waist as he deepens the kiss.
His tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I taste copper, salt, and fire. The hand around my wrist loosens just enough to slide up my arm, leaving flames in its wake before tangling in my hair.
“Focus on me,” he growls against my lips. “Only me.”
I gasp as he tugs my head back, exposing my throat. His teeth graze the sensitive skin there, and the sharp edge of pain sends a bolt of heat straight to my core.
Ember’s power retreats with a hiss, coiling back into the depths of my chest like a scolded child.
“That’s it,” he murmurs against my throat.
I can barely think past the sensation of his mouth on my neck, the way his teeth scrape against my pulse point. My hands fist in his uniform, pulling him closer.
“Falcen,” I gasp, but I don’t know if I’m protesting or begging for more.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, searching my face. The gold ring around his pupils is brighter than I’ve ever seen it.
“Your eyes,” he says, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone. “They’re green again.”
I let out a shaky breath, feeling more like myself than I have since Ember exploded inside me. “She’s quiet now.”
His expression turns somber. “It won’t last. She’s getting stronger, isn’t she?”