Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ophelia
Pressure. And pain.
The two alternated, cutting through the wave of oblivion until my entire body hurt.
The images came back to me. How I ended up sinking into this darkness. Teeth and claws, the wind on my face and Sapphire beneath me, the gleam on my blade as I slashed across fur.
Soothing hands caressed my face. They were gentle, beseeching. I wanted to lean into their touch and allow myself that moment of reprieve. But when a trickle of something warm ran down my temple I snapped to the present.
Someone was touching my face, where I was bleeding tainted blood.
No, no, no. No one could touch me.
My eyes opened. Tolek was leaning over me, worry creasing his battle-worn face. His cheeks were smeared with dirt, but he bore no obvious injuries. He looked into my eyes deeply, searching for a hint of life.
I was lying in the black sand of the tundra, trying to make sense of the mysterious way the sunlight streaked through the trails of smoke and organize my racing thoughts. My head was in Tol’s lap, resting on his uninjured thigh as his hand gently stroked hair away from the wound on my temple.
“Hey,” he said, his voice thick. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
I scrambled away from him. The movement sent a wave of pain through my body, and the black earth around me spun. “Don’t touch me,” I wheezed over the soot in my throat. Don’t touch my blood.
Rina halted where she had been dressing the wound in my side with strips of damp linen. My eyes went to her hands, and my stomach lurched. From finger to forearm, she shone crimson with my tainted blood. But she was human—she would be okay.
“Ophelia…” Relief vanished from Tolek’s eyes, replaced by pain.
“What’s wrong?” He stretched a hesitant hand toward me, streaks of deep red across his palm and leathers.
The world continued to tilt as I pushed myself to my hands and knees and emptied the contents of my stomach into the sand. Repeatedly.
I had worked so hard to conceal the Curse.
To not only keep it from spreading, but to keep anyone from knowing.
This was the result—my undeniably caring friend coming into contact with my blood with the intention of healing me.
My already-broken heart was ripped in two, realizing what I’d condemned Tolek to. This was my failure.
Only when the bile had stopped stinging my throat did I raise my head and look around us to the empty landscape. The wolves’ bodies had vanished.
“Where did they go?” I asked through a mouth that tasted sour. Tolek’s cheeks drooped when I ignored him, but I could not face him yet.
“We don’t know,” Rina explained, still looking at me questioningly. “They went down as you did, and sank into the earth.” She uncapped a canteen and extended it to me. I thanked her, using it to rinse my mouth out. Everything was still so muddled.
As I had suspected, the wolves were connected to the volcano. When I had slayed the alpha, it took out the rest. The leader—
My thoughts froze as the full sequence of events came back to me. I spat water onto the black sand and cleared my throat, afraid to ask the next question. “Cypherion?”
Tolek only inclined his head, still silent. I squeezed my eyes shut to fight the stinging rising to them. Spirits, Cyph—
“I’m here,” a weakened, deep voice answered behind me.
I whirled toward it, ignoring the inclination to vomit again at the motion, and ran bloody hands through my tangled hair, gripping it at the scalp. Sobs lodged in my throat, relief turning my bones to jelly.
“Cyph.” Despite my injuries, I staggered to him, falling to my knees beside his prostrate body, but keeping my distance to avoid shedding blood on him. My sister sat on his other side, legs curled beneath her.
“What happened?” I demanded.
Cypherion grimaced. “We needed a distraction.”
I didn’t want to chastise him for that now, but I swore to the Spirits if he ever did anything like that again, I’d murder him myself.
“How are you alive?” My side throbbed, and I wrapped an arm around my torso, but it seemed a good thing that I was moving.
“You were just fast enough, Ophelia.”
I understood. He dove into the fray of the wolves knowing that it might mean his end, but also guessing that his sacrifice would fuel me with an unstoppable anger.
He rode toward death thinking I may take out the alpha, and subsequently the pack, before his life was forfeit.
But had he been wrong, he would have given himself regardless. To inspire my mission.
“You martyred yourself,” I gasped. “Only the strongest of the Mystiques would have made that choice.” I smiled through the gentle stream of tears trickling down my cheeks. His eyes lit with understanding of the words I wasn’t saying.
He ducked his chin, but when his shoulders shifted, he groaned. My eyes scanned his body, taking in the unnatural stillness of him. Barely anything below his neck moved.
The world spun again. “You’re hurt,” I whispered.
But he’s alive, I reminded myself.
“I am,” he confirmed. Sweat stuck his auburn hair to his forehead, fresh drops forming despite the cooling air.
Silent tears fell from my eyes as I watched his eyelids flutter against the agony.
He did this—risked his life—for me. One of my closest friends, who longed for a sense of where he belonged, sacrificed himself so that I could fulfill this twisted angelic prophecy.
Fuck the Angels, I thought, not caring if they somehow heard me.
Fuck Damien and the rest of them for this mission and all it’s brought upon us.
I needed these people alive, and this journey continuously threatened that.
Cypherion bit his lips before elaborating. “My back. Something snapped when I collided with the wolves.”
There was so much pain layered beneath the thick tone of his voice. I swallowed my tears and the outburst that fought its way up my throat, knowing he needed me to be calm, to assume the presence he so frequently served for us.
“Can you feel your legs?” I asked gently, shifting slightly closer to look at the bottom half of his body. His feet did not move in their leather boots.
“Yes, I think I can move them, but the pain is too great to try.” A muscle in his thigh twitched and he clamped his lips together, the veins in his neck straining. Jezebel used her sleeve to wipe the fresh beads of sweat from his face.
“We’re waiting for the mountains to heal him,” my sister explained, taking over the story to let him rest. Our eyes met, and I saw her silent plea of relief in the way her jaw wobbled.
I’m glad you woke up, her eyes said. And I’m sorry I couldn’t stop him.
Her gaze flicked over my shoulder, to Tol’s bloodied hands.
I shook my head.
“How long has it been?” I asked, glancing between her and Cyph, who had closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the sand.
“Our guess is nearly six hours,” Jezebel claimed.
I inhaled that fact. I had been out for six hours. Left defenseless for that long. Lost that much time getting to the volcano. But— “There’s been no more attacks?”
Jezebel shook her head. “No, not a whisper of anything.”
“I can feel it,” Cyph clipped, eyes still shut. “The healing magic. Have for hours now.”
“You can?” I leaned in.
Cyph nodded, his lips tightening. “Yes, it’s tingling along my spine. It’s like…ice and fire at once.”
And when he said it, I felt it as well. Slowly, I peeled away the bandage Rina had applied. The edges of the wounds felt like they were rimmed in flame, but dancing inside—buried deep beneath the skin and inching upward—was what felt like a trickle of ice water.
The two sensations, heating and freezing, crawled toward each other in a deadly dance of burning and calming.
Landing somewhere between pleasure and pain.
Somewhere that I couldn’t name. If it had been a physical place, I would have basked in it, but I had a feeling it also had the power to kill me.
This magic, whatever it was, was fickle. Good and evil in one.
I screwed my eyes up against the sensation, giving myself over to the magic that had been building within me for hours. My friends around me fell silent, barely breathing as the visible signs of healing set in.
I squinted down at my arm, watching as the blood on my skin and torn leathers hardened. The flesh did not stitch itself back together entirely, but it inched closer before our eyes until the wounds looked days old.
The mangled skin of my left forearm now bore a new mark. Beneath the Bind, a series of pink scars took shape, ringing my flesh as a reminder of what we survived.
“Whoa…” Tolek breathed.
My eyes flashed up to his, and we smiled at each other. He reached down to run a hand along my hair, crimson fingers a beacon. I averted my gaze, sinking into the guilt that washed through me.
The sun had climbed high in the sky and was passing back down. We could not be caught on the tundra when it set, but one look at Cypherion had me clamping my lips between my teeth.
He gave so much; I could give this time for him.
But it was Cyph who said, “We need to keep moving.” He had pushed himself to a seated position and reclined on his hands, though the curved arc of his spine and the buckling of his elbows did not look comfortable.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jezebel began. She and Tolek had spent the last hour arguing over who had slain the most wolves, while Rina cleaned our wounds one at a time and made us all eat something for strength.
I had been careful to keep away from Jezebel and Cypherion until my blood had stopped flowing, nervously watching Tolek for any hints of pain.
He’d come in contact with my blood hours ago, but I was not sure how long the affliction took to set in.
I twisted my hair between my hands—which were now clean thanks to the last of the water in my canteen—ignoring my desire to insist on moving.