Chapter 60
Elora
When the blade pierced Rell’s skin, Elora’s world fractured.
Everything froze—the hushed whispers around her, Thorn’s triumphant grin, Florence’s emotionless stare—all becoming distant and meaningless. Rell’s gaze remained locked with hers, showing not accusation but a gentle surrender that tore at her soul.
The nightglider transformation tore through her body, her skeleton breaking and reshaping itself with violent intensity. Her inhuman cry echoed off the walls of the grand hall.
She sprang toward him, only to be yanked back as the chain went rigid against her collar.
Pain exploded through her neck.
A violent pulse flooded from the metal into her bloodstream, sharp enough to force a roar from her throat.
Heat spread beneath her skin almost instantly, thick and heavy, dragging at her muscles, her thoughts.
Thorn had expected this.
Though the metal sliced into her throat, she felt nothing but desperation. Her only thought: get to Rell. Save him.
She hurled herself forward, every fiber in her body straining against the metal. For one suspended moment the chain resisted, then gave way with a sound like tearing steel, as if the very air carried her fury.
The moment Elora’s body collided with Florence, a surge of electricity shot through her collar, igniting every nerve with white-hot pain.
Florence flew off the stage, a look of shock painting her features, but Elora barely registered the victory.
As a human again, she stumbled, her balance wavering as she fought to keep her vision clear—two Florences blurred into one, and the pounding footsteps of guards closed in.
It was definitely some sort of sedative that shot into her neck. She wouldn’t be able to save Rell like this.
Forcing a partial shift, she regained some clarity just as the first guard lunged at her. Instincts took over, and she ducked under his grasp, and raked her claws across his side, drawing a startled gasp from him.
In that split second she let the nightglider surge within her, embracing it again and unleashed a back kick that sent one man sprawling into the others.
The clarity of that form was short-lived. The collar pulsed violently, sending another jolt of electricity through her. She only made it a few paces before collapsing back into her human form.
Her lungs emptied on impact. She lay face-down, vision blurring while aftershocks pulsed through her limbs. Each desperate gasp brought little relief.
Metal links clinked behind her. Turning, she saw a blurred outline of Thorn, hand wrapping around her chain.
He might have been laughing, though it sounded distorted, like she was underwater.
Rell was close, though she could hardly make out his features through the haze. Her trembling fingers found his hand—cold, too cold—and closed around it. She squeezed, willing her warmth into his fading body.
Hold on, just hold on.
Thorn yanked the chain with savage force, the collar slicing into her throat until blood trickled down her neck.
She didn’t fight the pull—she weaponized it, hurling herself toward him as her bones cracked and skin split, the nightglider erupting from her human form mid-lunge.
She slammed into Thorn, knocking them both backward.
The blow should have caved in his chest. Her paws landed on something solid, armor beneath his robes. His forearm somehow blocked her muzzle from attacking. Strength cuffs. Protection charms. Enchantments at his disposal. Only one actually mattered.
He didn’t try to push her off. Instead, his hand moved toward the metal band with sparks dancing across its surface.
Barely a twist. The shocks rippled through her neck, threatening to tear the nightglider from her again, but Elora lunged, jaws unhinging as she bit down on his hand, tearing it aside before the collar could force her fully human.
Thorn wailed—
Elora’s muscles bunched, and she slammed her full weight down onto his chest again.
The armor gave with a sickening crack.
Thorn wheezed something she didn’t stay to hear.
She flew across the stage to Rell, knocking a few guards out of the way as she did.
Elora shifted back to human form with a gasp, and the clarity the nightglider provided vanished. Dropping to her knees beside Rell, she felt the blood that spread beneath him, but when she pressed her fingers to his throat, she felt a stubborn flutter of a pulse.
She was running out of time.
“Stay with me,” she whispered.
Fur rippled across her skin as her bones reshaped themselves. Her front paws cradled Rell against her chest while her wings unfurled from her shoulders, massive and powerful. With one mighty push of her hind legs, she launched them skyward.
Rell’s weight threatened to drag them back down, but Elora adjusted her grip, using her hind legs to secure him against her underside.
Below, chaos reigned. Students and wards scrambled over each other in their desperation to escape, their screams echoing off the vaulted ceiling. Masters huddled together, their guards forming a protective ring around them.
Florence stood alone among the carnage, her face tilted upward. For one heartbeat, their eyes met, and Elora saw something there she didn’t have time to decipher.
Elora banked sharply, wings straining as she aimed for the massive stained-glass windows.
She twisted in mid-air, turning her back toward the glass, wings folded tight against her sides to protect Rell from the impact.
The crash sent shards exploding outward in a rainbow of destruction.
Pain lanced across her shoulders as fragments sliced through fur and skin, but she kept Rell secure against her body.
Then they were through, bursting into the open air beyond. The wind caught her wings, filling them like sails. The weight of Rell’s body strained her muscles, but she refused to slow down. Not until they were far enough away. Not until he was safe.
She could feel his heartbeat fluttered against her chest—weak but persistent, a rhythm she clung to desperately. Each beat a promise that he was still fighting, still with her.
The Hive was too far. She’d never make it in time.
Elora banked left, angling toward the coastline where the jagged cliffs gave way to the small, secluded beach.
She descended in a tight spiral, wings straining against gravity, letting them flutter against the sand so she could land slowly.
She gently laid him on the warm sand. The knife was still embedded between his ribs, its ornate handle gleaming mockingly in the sunlight.
She shifted back to human and almost immediately collapsed beside him. Her vision swam, the one knife sticking out of him turned into ten.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, her voice breaking. She partially shifted, the clarity mostly returning but this form too was starting to feel the effects of the sedative.
She had to work fast.
Her satchel. She needed her satchel with the healing potions. Where is it? Her breath stilled in her chest until she remembered she’d left it hidden among the rocks the last time she’d been here.
“Hold on,” she told Rell, though his eyes remained closed. She sprinted to the cluster of boulders near the hidden tunnel, the chain dragging in the sand behind her. When her fingers found the worn leather of her satchel strap, she nearly sobbed.
She fell to her knees beside Rell. His skin had taken on a grayish tinge, lips slightly blue around the edges. The knife rose and fell with each labored breath, blood leaking from the base.
She pulled the cloak out with shaking hands, bunching the fabric around the wound and blade.
Elora took a deep breath to steady herself and grasped the hilt of the knife.
With one swift motion, she pulled it from his chest, immediately pressing the folded cloak against the gash.
Blood soaked through the fabric within seconds, warm and sticky against her palms.
Her voice cracked as she pressed down harder. “I didn’t go through all of that just to lose you now.”
She fumbled one-handed through her satchel, claws getting caught against the fabric until her fingers closed around a small tin of salve. It wasn’t much—just basic field medicine, nothing that could repair a punctured organ.
She leaned down, pressing her ear against Rell’s chest. She closed her eyes, focusing intently on the sounds within his chest cavity. Each labored breath whistled slightly, but there was no telltale gurgle of blood in his lungs. No puncture then, at least not of the lung itself.
“This will help,” she murmured, though she wasn’t sure if he could hear her. “It’ll accelerate clotting.”
She carefully lifted the edge of the blood-soaked cloth, exposing the wound. The knife had left a clean incision between his ribs, but what caught her attention was the pale web of scar tissue surrounding it.
Her fingers traced the old marks. She’d healed one of these wounds before.
The older scar had faded cleanly beneath her alchemy.
Please let that mean his body could survive this one too.
Elora scooped a generous amount of salve onto her fingers and meticulously applied it around the raised edges, avoiding creating any new injuries with her claws so close to him. The golden substance seemed to sink into his skin, leaving a faint shimmer behind.
“Please work,” she whispered, watching the bleeding slow. “Please.”
She tore a long strip from the edge of her cloak, her hands trembling slightly as she worked. The fabric ripped, providing her with a makeshift bandage. She wrapped it around his torso, passing it beneath his back and pulling it tight against the wound.
With shaking hands, Elora reached into her satchel again, fingers closing around a small vial with amber liquid. It wasn’t meant for injuries this severe, but it was all she had.
She cradled his head in her lap, her palm supporting the back of his neck.
His skin felt cold against her fingers, his pulse fluttering weakly beneath her touch.
She uncorked the vial with her teeth, spitting the stopper onto the sand.
Parting his lips with gentle fingers, she carefully poured the amber liquid into his mouth.
The liquid glowed faintly as it disappeared between his pale lips, carrying its healing magic into his body.
It wouldn’t mend the damage inside—the potion wasn’t strong enough for that—but it would fight infection and boost his body’s natural healing abilities.
A stopgap measure at best, but better than nothing.
When the vial was empty, she set it aside and gently lowered his head back to the sand. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across his face, highlighting the hollows beneath his cheekbones, the bluish tinge to his lips.
Elora studied him, her heart constricting in her chest. This wasn’t Rell—not the Rell she knew.
There was no mischievous gleam in his eyes, no quirk of his lips when he thought he was being clever.
His jaw, usually set with determination even in sleep, hung slack.
The strong hands that had held her so gently now lay limp at his sides.
Her own hands trembled violently as she brushed a strand of hair from his forehead.
The sedative overpowered this form now, her vision blurring around the edges.
Her lungs seemed to have forgotten how to work properly, each breath coming in short, stuttering gasps that did nothing to ease the tightness in her chest.
“Don’t do this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Please, Rell.”
The only answer was the soft hush of waves against the shore, the distant cry of seabirds wheeling overhead. Her vision blurred, hot tears spilling down her cheeks to land on his face.
Elora leaned down, pressing her forehead against his. His skin felt cool against hers, nothing like the warmth she’d come to associate with him. A sob tore from her throat, raw and primal.
“Don’t leave me,” she choked out, tears streaming freely down her face now. “Please don’t leave me.”
Her fingers pressed against his neck, searching desperately for his pulse. It was there—faint and erratic but still fighting. Still holding on by the thinnest thread.
She thought of Tehvan and Arria. The space they’d left behind had been a gaping wound that never fully healed and now Rell’s absence would tear it open again, deeper and more devastating than anything that had come before.
“Rell, listen to me.” She clutched his face between her hands. “There have only been a few people in my life that I have truly loved.”
Her voice broke.
“And you are at the top of that list.”
The words she’d never said aloud caught in her throat, choking her with their weight. She’d been too afraid, too guarded, too damaged by loss and revenge to admit how much he meant to her.
He didn’t respond.
She couldn’t stay upright any longer. She lowered herself beside him, sliding under his limp arm and resting her head on his chest. The collar bit into her neck but she didn’t care.
His heartbeat pulsed against her ear—stronger now, steadier than before. The rhythm of it was hypnotic, soothing in its persistence. She matched her breathing to it, feeling her own frantic pulse begin to slow.
Her eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment. Despite her determination to stay awake, to keep watch over him, darkness crept in at the edges of her vision.
“Please, don’t leave me...”
The words faded on her lips as the sedative finally claimed her.
∞∞∞
Something light traced patterns on her back, pulling her from the depths of unconsciousness. Gentle circles moving up and down her spine. The sensation was pleasant, comforting, but didn’t make sense. Her mind struggled to place it, still foggy with sleep.
Then reality crashed in.
Elora jerked upright. Her gaze locked with gray eyes—open, aware, alive. Rell was looking at her, his eyelids heavy but undeniably conscious. He struggled to keep them open, each blink lasting a fraction too long, but he was awake. He was alive.
“Sunshine,” he whispered, the word barely audible, his voice rough with pain.
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she took his face between her hands. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t form words through the overwhelming relief that closed her throat. Instead, she leaned down and pressed her lips to his, pouring everything she couldn’t say into the kiss.
When she pulled back, it was just enough to rest her forehead against his. His arm curled around her, fingers pressing into her back to keep her close.
“Please stop getting stabbed,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I can’t lose you. Not after—”
The rest caught in her throat, but she didn’t need to finish it.
Rell’s lips twitched, attempting a smile that didn’t quite reach full strength.
“I heard you,” he murmured. “Before.”
“Didn’t think I’d end up at the top of anyone’s list.”
His thumb brushed weakly against her back.
“You’re stuck with me a little longer.”