61. Lora
Lora
“Erion, come back to me.” The broken words tore from my throat.
But the violet-glowing man before me wasn’t Erion. Not anymore.
“Erion, please…”
I twisted against the bindings, but they refused to budge. Every fiber of me ached to embrace him, to anchor him to this world through touch and careful coaxing.
Something hot soared over my shoulder, and a burning spear pierced straight through Erion’s chest.
My breath caught and the world stopped.
The raging storm died around us. Debris rained down—chunks of scorched earth, splintered wood, frozen branches—all of it dropping to the forest floor.
“Erion!” His name rasped from my throat, raw and desperate.
My metal bindings softened and slid away. I struggled to process why I was suddenly free, but instinct took over. My arms shot forward, catching Erion as he collapsed, pulling us both to the ground.
My gaze snapped to the spear’s source. Zaivareth stood there, hands still raised, fingers curved from wielding the metal.
Rage and despair collided in my chest, reverberating through my bones. I wanted to rip his salt-cursed heart out and crush it between my fingers.
But I jerked my focus back to Erion.
No purple glow pulsed beneath his skin. No indigo light spilled from his half-open eyes.
The spear had pierced straight through his chest and vanished on the other side, leaving a gaping wound just below his heart. Scorched flesh blackened the edges where the metal had seared through muscle and bone. An acrid stench of burned tissue curled into my nostrils.
“Erion…” A sob wrenched from my chest. “Don’t move. I’ve got you.”
Blue light radiated from my hands as I covered his wound and reached out with my healing. Moon’s mercy, the spear had torn through his lung. I’d never learned to heal something so vital. I doubted even Father could manage it.
His hazel eyes found mine, no trace of purple left in them. “I stole them,” he wheezed.
“Shh, don’t speak.” My fingers curled and flexed, channeling more magic into his chest.
If I could seal the worst of the damage, I’d buy us time. I’d find a way to heal him properly.
“The stones… I took them…” The words rasped from his throat. “During their ritual.”
Frowning, I struggled to piece together what he meant. Was he talking about his sister and her boyfriend?
My magic pulsed and sputtered, refusing to trickle into the cavities I aimed for.
“It was me.” A wet cough tore from his throat, staining his lips with blood.
“Stay still, Erion. This isn’t the time.”
His hand closed around my arm in a weak grip. “I caused the rift.”
“No!” I shook my head. “It was your sister and her boyfriend when they combined their powers.”
“I snatched the stones… from their hands.” He spoke between strangled breaths. “The ritual failed… because I took them… I caused the rift.”
“Oh… Erion.” His confession fractured something deep in my chest.
He’d likely taken the stones believing it would interrupt the forbidden ritual. Instead, he’d caused the blight the prophecy had warned against.
He must’ve carried this secret ever since regaining his memories. Why hadn’t he told me? Was it guilt? Shame? Had he been terrified of what I’d think if I knew the truth?
“It’s not your fault, Erion. You only took the stones because you thought it would stop their ritual, right?”
He gave a faint nod.
Forcing a smile, I channeled more healing into his chest. “You only did what you thought was right. I would have done the same.”
His lips curved upward, but beneath the blue glow of my palms, his collapsed lung deteriorated with each labored breath. Magic flowed from me in desperate waves, but the truth settled in my core like shattered glass. Erion was dying.
My heart splintered, slicing through my insides with each aching beat.
No. A flicker of defiance whispered through my veins, and I poured it into my healing, refusing to let go.
Erion couldn’t die.
He wasn’t just Erion. He was the Dual Wielder. Our prophesied savior. The one who would seal the rift.
Sweat beaded on my forehead as I stitched a thread of blue light through torn tissue, knitting vital membranes back together.
Another cough wracked his body, unraveling the tiny thread I’d just sealed in place.
Silt and rot, this was impossible.
His hand reached for my face. “I love you, Lora.”
A sob clawed up my throat. The words I love you too stuck in my throat. No one deserved those words more than him. But they refused to come.
“Erion…” My voice quavered.
His fingers brushed my cheek. “It’s all right.” His eyes softened, as if he understood what I was struggling to say but couldn’t. “I wanted to thaw… your winter… into spring.” He wheezed the words out between shallow breaths. “But I was never your sun… was I?”
The words sliced straight into my core, gutting me. My throat closed, my response lodging beneath my ribs. I wanted to tell him he was wrong. That he’d brought warmth into places I thought would always remain cold. Because he had. Just not in the way he’d hoped.
His labored breathing ebbed, and his hand slipped away from my face. The light in his hazel eyes faded. Beneath my glowing palms, I sensed his heart stopping.
“No,” I breathed.
He couldn’t die. He wasn’t allowed to die.
“Erion!” My voice cracked.
Frantic energy seized my movements. Blue glow flared from my hands, and magic flooded into his unbeating heart. But no matter how hard I shoved, it refused to restart.
“Erion! Come back to me!”
His name tore from my lips over and over until my throat burned and only a hoarse croak remained. Tears streamed down my face as I abandoned healing and gripped his shoulders, shaking him.
“Erion! Come back!”
All strength drained from me as I dropped my forehead to his shoulder, burying my face in the crook of his neck.
“I love you too, Erion,” I whispered against his skin. “Just… not like that.”