23. Lora
Lora
Erion remembered.
I wanted to tear the answers from his lips right away, but I mustered the willpower to rise and convince him to follow me to the carcass hidden between the trees.
The massive bone structure belonged to a monster called tree-breaker—a quadruped with layered bone plates down its spine and a skull shaped as a solid wedge, excellent for ramming through tree trunks.
I’d crossed paths with one only once, and had been fortunate enough to slip away unnoticed. Taking on a tree-breaker alone would’ve been suicide.
Erion lifted a brow. “You want us to go inside that thing?”
Without answering, I found an opening and crawled into the hollowed-out frame, jaw tight against the pain lancing through my shoulder. Patches of hide clung to the ribcage, and the smell of old bone and stale earth hung heavy in the air.
“Lora…” Erion dropped to his hands and knees behind me. “Is this really a good idea?”
“It’s the best we’ve got. Unless you’d rather wait for those pirates to catch us?”
I settled against a curved rib, hissing as pain surged through me.
“You’re hurt!” Erion crawled closer, scanning my body.
“I’m fine.” I poured healing through my palm into my shoulder, channeling what energy I had left into repairing the worst damage. A soothing cold trickled into the wound, easing the pain. My body shivered at the pleasant chill.
His jaw worked as he leaned back on his haunches. “Did I do this to you?”
I shook my head, perhaps a little too quickly. “No, not at all. You did nothing wrong.”
Torvin’s anguished scream echoed in my mind, and I swallowed against the bile rising in my throat. Erion didn’t need to know what he’d done to him. I’d carry that agony alone.
Something raw flickered in his hazel eyes. “Lora… The way you stood up to those pirates for me… Thank you.” His hand brushed my knee. “And the way you fought those monsters! You were incredible.”
Heat prickled up my neck. I glanced away, fixing my gaze on a crack in one of the bones.
“I mean it, Lora.” His voice dropped lower, more intense. “You fight like a queen.”
A harsh laugh escaped my lips. “Yeah, right.”
His lips curved into a smile, something heated flickering in his eyes. “The Queen of Blightlands. That’s what you are.”
I swallowed, uncertainty swirling through me. Was he joking? No, Erion wasn’t the teasing type. His earnest gaze told me he meant every word. And his heated stare and lingering touch suggested far more than his words ever did.
Time to switch the subject. “You said you remember everything. You can’t leave me hanging like that. Tell me.”
Sighing, he slumped beside me, close enough for our knees to touch in the cramped space. The blue shimmer from my palm lit his face, flowing and dappled, like light reflected on water.
His gaze drifted upward to the canopy visible through the gaps in the bone cage.
“I was born in the Moon Queendom… a long time ago.” His voice was a low murmur. “Before the rift. Before the monsters.”
My tired mind snapped to attention. “What? How can that be?”
“I’ll get to that.” He swallowed. “But let me start from the beginning.”
Unease flitted through me, but I nodded, refocusing on threading my shoulder back together.
“My family lived in a small town called Mirefall.” His mouth twitched but his brow furrowed—fondness and sadness mingling together.
“My father was a river guide, often away days or weeks on end, ferrying people and cargo along the rivers. My mother…” He gave a wistful sigh.
“She was a non-wielder. An herbalist. She foraged the forest for medicinal plants and sold them at our little shop.” His voice softened. “I was her apprentice.”
A smile tugged at my lips. “That explains your knowledge of herbs.”
His mouth quirked up, then tightened. “I was nineteen when… I mean, I am nineteen…” He shook his head, hands twisting in his lap. “My sister, Lysanna, had moon magic like our father. But I was like Mother. A non-wielder.”
“Really?” I frowned. “Then how do you have both sun and moon magic now?”
“I’ll get there. Just bear with me.” He drew a deep breath.
“In those days, no one in the Moon Queendom hated the Sun Kingdom. Not like you do now. We had good relations and formal trading channels through the noble families. We respected the prophecy—everyone knew sun and moon magic couldn’t mix—but no animosity festered between our domains. ”
I tried to picture it: moon- and sunfolk treating each other without hate or fear. No one getting killed for accidentally crossing the border. It sounded too idyllic to be true.
His jaw tightened. “But people were poor. Hungry. Tired of being told what they could and couldn’t do by nobles and royals living in luxurious comfort while everyone else scraped by.”
I huffed a bitter laugh. “At least that part sounds familiar.”
“There were taverns along the border,” he continued. “Illegal ones, where people from both domains met in secret. There was talk of rebellion and breaking the old laws. Lysanna found her way to one of those taverns. She kept sneaking off for weeks, months even. And for a while she seemed… happier.”
His voice cracked, just barely.
“Mother told Lysanna she carried the glow of a woman in love, and Lysanna’s face burned brighter than the sun. I was happy for her. She deserved all the love in the world. But one day I found her crying behind a shed. She said a bee had stung her, but I could tell she was lying.”
His hands curled into fists. “So the next night, I followed her. But instead of heading to that illegal tavern, she went deep into the woods. That’s where she met him.”
“Who?” I breathed.
“Her boyfriend. She called him Beloren. The first thing he did when he saw her was light a lantern with fire magic.”
“A sun wielder,” I breathed, unease prickling along my scalp.
A sad smile twitched on Erion’s lips. “She was so enamored with him. And from what I could tell, he was desperately in love with her too.”
I swallowed, struggling to keep my focus on the healing threads beneath my palm. “What happened?”
“I stayed hidden, listening. Lysanna cried in his arms, saying the memories of what she’d done haunted her. That she knew his father was a bad man, but she couldn’t stop thinking about how she’d killed him.”
The words hit me like a ram to the chest. “What? Your sister killed her boyfriend’s father?”
Erion swallowed hard. “Beloren comforted her and said she just had to hold out a little longer. That they were close. And they had…” He frowned. “He said they had to use the stones.”
“The stones?” I repeated. “What stones?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face. “He said all they had left to do was use the stones to perform the ritual and… combine their powers.”
“No,” I whispered, cold prickling along my spine.
“Lysanna seemed hesitant, asking if he was sure it would work. He assured her it would—that everything wrong with the world would be mended.”
“Hadn’t he heard the prophecy?” My voice pitched higher. “How could he think combining their powers would fix anything?”
“I don’t know.” Erion’s shoulders sagged. “Before I knew what was happening, they stepped close together, each holding a stone, pouring their magic into them.” His gaze grew distant. “Water and fire. Light and darkness. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once.”
My pulse thundered in my ears. “What… what happened?”
His hands trembled, and his gaze darted away.
“The ritual backfired. Their magic lashed out. Some of it slammed into me, but some of it…” He swallowed.
“It ripped the air open above us. Creatures started clawing through.” His eyes grew distant.
“They tore into my sister and Beloren. It was—” He shut his eyes tight, shaking his head.
My hand fell slack, the blue glow flickering out. My shoulder still throbbed, but I couldn’t focus on healing any longer.
Erion’s sister and her boyfriend had done exactly what the prophecy warned against. They’d combined their powers and unleashed the blight upon us.
I reached out and brushed his arm—a laughably insufficient attempt at comfort.
Not only had he lived through the same horror as me, watching someone you loved being violently torn from life.
He also had to live with the crushing knowledge that his own sister had caused the catastrophe consuming our world.
Silence pressed in, heavier than the bone cage around us.
Eventually, his soft voice filled the space. “Before I knew what was happening, I—” He swallowed. “I was hauled into darkness. Trapped in a dreamlike state until…” His hazel eyes met mine. “Until you pulled me out.”
His gaze drifted away as something bitter crept into his tone. “My sister is dead. And my parents, my relatives, all my friends—they’re dead too, aren’t they?”
I fidgeted with the edge of my sleeve. “They probably lived long and peaceful lives before—”
His voice sliced through mine. “Mirefall sat near the border between the two domains, right at the epicenter of the rift.” His gaze snapped to mine, unflinching. “They didn’t die of old age.”
“Oh.” I swallowed against the dryness in my throat.
Stories from those early years were soaked in blood. Entire towns had been devoured by monsters before people learned to fight back.
Erion leaned forward against his knees, staring into nothing, voice hollow. “They’re dead. All of them. And it’s all my fault.”
“No.” Fierce determination sharpened my voice. I scooched closer and pulled him into my arms. “It wasn’t your fault. You looked out for your sister. You did what you could to protect her.”
His shoulders shook. “I shouldn’t have—If I’d just—” He rubbed a palm against his forehead. “They’re all gone. I’ve got no one left.”
I tightened my grip, stroking slow circles over his back. “Hey,” I murmured. “I know it’s not much, but… you’ve got me.”
He glanced up, eyes raw. “Really?”
“Of course,” I said softly. “I’m here. Whatever you need.”
The warmth from his face radiated against mine, our breaths mingling. The desperation in his eyes shifted into something charged.