37. First Blight #3
His hand tightened on her shoulder, hard enough to still her shivering for a heartbeat. The flare in his eyes told her he’d heard every word—and understood.
But when he spoke aloud, it was only to Zarrek. “We’re leaving.”
Kailorien helped Auryn walk down the hall, his senses still buzzing with the threat of the strange pair of Gliders behind them.
She made it a short distance before her knees failed her. Kailorien caught her without breaking stride, his arm sweeping her up against him. “I’ve got you.”
The tunnel was endless—a winding serpent of stone that smothered light and sound. They rounded another curve, and Kailorien stopped. The alcove ahead was small, just enough shadow to hide them from the main path.
“Zarrek,” he said without looking back, “watch my back.”
The warrior grunted and turned toward the tunnel’s mouth, battleaxe already in hand.
“Lu’ma,” Kailorien added, “the mana here isn’t twisted. Cast a containment web.”
Her Attendant moved without hesitation, fingers flashing through the signs, weaving invisible threads into the air until the alcove hummed with a soft, enclosing ward.
Only then did Kailorien lower his gaze to Auryn. The world narrowed to her pale face, her trembling hands clutching the glass bauble. He turned her in his arms, one hand cradling the back of her head as he brought his mouth to hers.
You’ll recover soon. Take what you need, my love.
The first rush of mana hit Auryn like sun-warmed rain—not the cool, piercing azure she had grown used to over the years. This breath poured into her in waves of molten gold, hot and blinding in its purity. Her eyes flew open against his lips, but he didn’t stop.
Slowly, the shaking eased. Her chest loosened, allowing her to draw deeper breaths. The bone-deep cold retreated, the black veins beneath her skin dimming to faint shadows.
When he drew back, his brow was furrowed — not in relief, but in puzzlement.
“That was different,” he observed. “This doesn’t feel like a Flare. You’ve never been so cold, Auryn. Not since—” He broke off, swallowing hard. “Not since the rift in the Emerald Moores.”
“It wasn’t a Flare,” she agreed, her breath warming his cheek. “Whatever burned the mana above in the explosion…it did this.”
Behind them, Zarrek spoke. His tone was halting, unsteady—the sound of a man trying to process what he’d witnessed. “Did you just…give her your mana?”
Kailorien didn’t answer at once. He simply lifted his gaze from Auryn’s face to meet Zarrek’s eyes. Unflinching.
“Resh…” Zarrek’s voice deepened. “You could have killed her.”
“No.” Kailorien’s reply was quiet, but it carried a weight that left no room for doubt. “It is how I save her.”
“It’s alright.” Auryn turned her head enough to catch Zarrek’s gaze. “Please…trust us.”
Before Zarrek could speak again, Lu’ma stepped forward between them, planting herself like a living wall before the Resh’Agar. Her black eyes cut into Zarrek with the precision of a spearman’s strike. She signed with deliberate force. 'You saw nothing. You speak nothing.'
When Zarrek’s brows drew together, she continued without hesitation, each sign sharp enough to sting. 'This is His Quintessence’s life. Not your story to tell.'
Kailorien saw the flicker in Zarrek’s expression—a brief tightening of his jaw, then the smallest nod before he stepped back. But it wasn’t the compliance that struck him.
It was the realization.
Lu’ma wasn’t only shielding Auryn. She was shielding him. Standing before him as if she would cut down anyone who dared speak of what they had just seen.
No one other than Auryn had ever done that for him. Not like this.
He exhaled, slow, centering himself, then looked down at Auryn in his arms. Her breathing was steadier now.
Better… just tired.
Rest. I have you.
But her hand caught his sleeve before he could move. Her voice was ragged. “What happened above? The People…are they safe?”
“The Reskala are deployed,” he said. “They’re guiding the people to safety in the Temples. I’ve mandated help from Selen and the Prismatum. The Solutus attackers have been eliminated, but the Han…” His jaw flexed. “The markets, the Crafter’s quarters, forges, looms—all of it. Leveled.”
Auryn closed her eyes, a faint tremor passing through her. “Those poor souls.”
“Those in need will be housed in Selen until we rebuild.” His voice softened, but there was steel beneath it. “I will see to it myself.”
Auryn swallowed thickly. “We will restore it. Perhaps not to the way it was, but enough.”
He nodded. A promise made.
The containment web shimmered at the edge of his vision. Beyond it, the tunnel curved into darkness, carrying the echo of distant chaos. The war above was still raging. But in here, for this heartbeat, only the four of them stood in the company of a secret that could never leave this alcove.
“Let’s move,” he said at last.
Zarrek took point without another word. Lu’ma fell into step behind, her sharp gaze sweeping for threats. Kailorien followed, cradling Auryn close, the warmth of her small body a fragile contrast to the cold stone and the weight of what had just passed between them.