Chapter 42
Forty-Two
H ours passed in a blur of snow and ice. Alaire’s muscles ached, her lungs burned with effort, and dampness settled deep in her marrow—a chill that set her teeth chattering.
At last, they reached a plateau. Alaire flung herself onto solid ground, stretching her limbs as a sigh escaped. Sweet, sweet relief coursed through her. Finally . The flat expanse offered room to breathe, but its edges dropped into white nothingness.
“We made it,” Alaire said, letting the tension ease from her body. Despite the harsh conditions, the frozen landscape held a raw, unforgiving beauty.
Dawson sat beside her, one knee raised, an arm resting on it. Aside from the rosy flush on his cheeks, no one would’ve guessed he’d just scaled a mountain.
Alaire poked him. “How is it you look like that after the climb?”
He arched a brow. “And what exactly does that mean?”
“You know—don’t act like you don’t.” She waved her hand vaguely at his flawless state.
“I can assure you, I do not…” He cupped his chin, hiding the beginnings of a smile.
“Ugh. You’re going to make me say it. Fine. Generally unruffled, somewhat regal, and a tiny bit desirable.”
“A tiny bit desirable?” His eyes gleamed wickedly.
Alaire dragged a hand down her face. “I immediately take that back. It’ll only feed your endless ego.”
“No, no.” He shook his head. “It’s good to know I’m only a little desirable.”
“Forget I said anything,” Alaire muttered.
“Don’t think so.” Dawson smirked.
Heat climbed up her neck. She met his gaze head-on, defiance in her stare. “Don’t let it go to your head. Even a perfect specimen like me can have a moment of weakness.”
“So, I’m your weakness?” His eyes danced with amusement.
Alaire rolled her eyes, though her mouth twitched. “Remember, I have standards.”
“And it seems I exceed them, though, being desirable and all.” He winked.
She lunged to jab his ribs, but he was already on his feet, standing a few steps back.
The temperature dropped.
“That’s not normal,” Dawson muttered.
The wind whipped loose snow across the plateau. Dark clouds churned overhead. Snow exploded around them, swallowing her vision. The world became a whiteout of ice and howling wind. Alaire pressed closer to the rocky outcropping, squinting.
A low growl cut through the storm.
Dawson raised his hand in warning. She froze, ears straining. Another growl answered the first, followed by heavy footsteps, barely audible above the gale.
Through the swirling snow, massive shapes emerged. White fur blended with the storm, claws glinting in the weak light. Dark eyes fixed on them. Intruders.
“Yetis,” Dawson hissed.
A pack. Some continued up the path, but at least six circled the plateau, closing in. The openness left them dangerously exposed.
“What now?”
“ Yet-teas . Come now , Alaire , do keep up .”
At last, Solflara and Beck crested the ridge.
“ About time you two showed up ,” she muttered.
Beck moved to Dawson’s side; Solflara took the rear.
The yetis prowled the perimeter.
Alaire unsheathed her blades with a hiss of metal. Dawson drew his broadsword, shifting to the balls of his feet. They formed a tight circle back-to-back with their celestials, no one left open.
A guttural roar shattered the air. Blood thrummed in Alaire’s ears as she tightened her grip, thumb brushing the stitching on her hilt.
The yetis charged.
One lunged at her, claws raking the air. She rolled and slashed its leg. It howled but pressed forward, driving her toward the cliff—twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.
Beck darted between them, his beak striking the yeti’s face. Wind spiraled from his wings, buying Alaire space to retreat.
Steel rang out. Dawson’s blade met another yeti’s claws with a crash , the prince grappling against brute force near the eastern edge.
“Solflara!” Alaire shouted as two converged on her phoenix.
Flames burst from Solflara, controlled but fierce. One yeti shrieked, snow hissing to vapor where her fire touched, before dissolving to ash.
The ground trembled. A hairline crack splintered near Solflara’s position.
“Don’t!” Dawson’s voice snapped. “You’ll bring the mountain down!”
Solflara pulled back, relying on talons and wings. Without fire, the yetis pressed harder.
The plateau became chaos—claws, dodges, steel on bone.
Dawson spun, ducked a swipe, and unleashed a vortex of wind. The beast soared upward before he slammed it against a jagged outcrop.
Two yetis surrounded Alaire, her back to the abyss. One wrong step and she’d be gone.
She dropped low, rolled between its legs, slashing on the way up. Her blade bit shallow, tearing fur but not stopping it. The creature spun, backhanding her across the plateau.
She skidded over ice and stone, stopping just short of the cliff’s edge.
The battle raged in the cramped center of the plateau. Beck’s wind kept the yetis staggering, but there were too many. Dawson fought with lethal precision, but even he was being overwhelmed.
Solflara lashed her flaming tail like a sword. Beck seized a yeti in his beak and bit down hard—the crunch of bone nearly made Alaire’s stomach turn.
“Fuck them all,” Dawson growled, eyes hard as steel.
A yeti charged Alaire just as she staggered to her feet.
Dawson’s broadsword cleaved its head clean from its shoulders.
“Behind you!” Alaire shouted.
Another yeti lunged through the chaos. Dawson spun, landing a brutal slash across its chest, but the beast’s momentum slammed into him. His sword went flying. Claws ripped across his torso, shredding fabric and flesh, hurling him to his knees.
“Dawson!” The scream tore from her throat.
Rage consumed her, tightening her chest, stealing her air. The thought of losing him—of him broken and bleeding—was unbearable.
The yeti reared back for another strike. Dawson collapsed face-first into the snow, blood spreading beneath him like spilled wine.
“Get away from him!” Alaire threw herself at the creature, daggers plunging into every gap in its hide. Again and again. “Let him go!”
Hot, slick blood coated her hands, but she didn’t stop. The creature bucked, twisting, trying to throw her off. Still, more yetis circled. Dawson wasn’t moving.
“ Get to Dawson !” Solflara urged.
Wings flaring wide, her flames erupted in a blaze. Beck’s wind surged to meet it, creating a maelstrom that drove the yetis back to the edges of the plateau. The ground trembled beneath their combined fury.
Finally, the beast beneath Alaire sagged, its roars dwindling to weak gasps before crumpling. Only then did she release it, knees slamming into stone as her chest heaved.
Cracks spidered through the rock where Solflara’s fire had touched, thin lines racing outward.
Alaire sprinted to him, rolling him carefully onto his back. Blood soaked crimson across the pristine snow, his skin pale, breath shallow. The gashes across his chest were red and swollen, claw marks seared deep.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she whispered, though the words were for her as much as him. His gaze locked onto hers, so intense it felt like he was memorizing her face—as if afraid it might be the last time he saw it.
His broken, vulnerable form tore at her heart.
Her gaze darted around until it landed on a patch of untouched snow a few feet away. Crawling over, she scooped a mound into her arms and hurried back, clutching it to her chest as if it were something precious. It was the only thing she had to clean the deep gashes scoring his chest.
By the time she returned, Dawson’s eyes had closed—he’d slipped into unconsciousness. Swallowing hard, she pressed the snow gently over the wounds, packing it against torn flesh.
“Stay with me,” she choked out.
“ We can’t linger ,” Solflara pressed, flames flaring against the storm. “ Beck and I will hold them , but heal him . You have to try .”
“ I can’t .” Alaire shook her head vehemently. “ My magic won’t answer me .”
“ Your magic may be buried , but the bonds are loosening . It may still respond . My healing only works for you — or other celestials. But you … you might reach him .”
Alaire sucked in a breath, pulse thundering in her ears.
“ Try ,” Solflara urged, voice fierce and unyielding. “ I believe in you .”
The crack in the plateau spread wider as Solflara and Beck threw up a protective barrier around them, buying Alaire precious seconds.
Alaire closed her eyes, fighting to block out the frenzy raging around them. She pressed her hands over the packed snow sealing Dawson’s wounds, reaching desperately for that buried part of herself where her magic slept. She prodded and pushed, begging for just a spark.
Nothing.
Letting out a strangled breath, she rolled her neck, forcing herself to focus again—this time not on the void inside her, but on where her hands touched him.
Memories surged: his brooding stare, infuriating quips, the way he demanded she repeat training drills until her muscles burned.
Always pushing. Always believing she could do more. Be more.
Dawson believed in her.
She could do this. She had to.
A spark lit within her. Alaire tried to cling to it, to direct it—but the pounding in her ears, the clamminess of her hands, and the heat flushing her skin snuffed it out before she could grasp it.
Her body slumped over Dawson. Tears burned her eyes. Her magic had failed her again when she needed it most. Worse—she had failed him.
The ground cracked around them, fissures spiderwebbing outward from the plateau into the mountain path above.
“ Alaire ,” Solflara prodded gently, “ we need to go . Beck and I can’t hold them off much longer . We have to get him onto Beck’s back . He’ll carry him until we find somewhere safe .”
Her hands were slick with Dawson’s blood, warm and sticky. Now that the adrenaline had ebbed, panic and terror flooded in, threatening to break her. Her lungs seized. She forced deep, steady breaths through her nose. Not now. Not here. Not when Dawson ? —
Solflara nudged her with her beak. “I’m okay. I’m alright.” It was a lie she repeated, as if sheer insistence might make it true.
Beck appeared moments later, packs dangling from his beak. Relief flickered through her. At least they had supplies—but nothing to stop Dawson’s bleeding.
Still slumped against her, he stirred faintly.
“Beck, we need to get him on your back,” she said, voice raw.
Beck’s keen eyes swept over Dawson’s limp form. Together, they hoisted him onto the griffin’s back, securing him as best they could. Every pained sound that escaped him was a knife to her chest.
“I forbid you from dying on me,” she whispered, kissing his brow before pulling leathers from her pack to cover his body.
The plateau fractured beneath them as they left it behind, heading up the narrow mountain path. Snow still fell, though the blizzard had eased to flurries.
Alaire walked beside Beck, one hand steadying Dawson’s back. His breaths were ragged, each one sounding worse than the last.
The ground rumbled, cracking again, deeper this time.
“ There .” Solflara pointed with her wing toward a dark opening in the mountainside. “ A cave .”
The frigid air gnawed through Alaire’s insulated layers. Even Solflara looked chilled, her flames dimming. Beck’s muscles trembled under the weight he carried. They wouldn’t last much longer. Relief surged when the cave loomed just ahead.
Then a growl cut through the wind.
The pack that climbed ahead had circled back. Massive shapes emerged from the snow. More than before. Their dark eyes glistened with hunger.
Alaire’s heart sank. Her gaze darted to Dawson—still slumped and unconscious.
A yeti’s roar split the air. Beck braced, but with Dawson on his back he was defenseless.
“ Go toward the cave ,” Solflara commanded
“No.” Alaire’s voice broke. “We fight together. Always .”
“ Not today .” Solflara’s amber eyes locked onto hers, burning with love and resolve. “ He needs you .”
Her phoenix strode toward the oncoming yetis, wings spread wide. Golden light bled from her feathers, molten fire growing brighter with every heartbeat until she was incandescent—raw, unyielding power given form.
“Solflara, please!” Alare bellowed.
“ GO !” Solflara thundered down the bond, leaving no room for argument.
Every instinct screamed against it. They were partners, two halves of one soul.
But Dawson was dying—and Solflara was giving them this chance.
Tears blurred Alaire’s vision as she clenched her jaw and forced herself to move. Her hands trembled as she tugged Beck’s neck, urging him forward. He resisted, muscles bunched in defiance.
“She’s doing this for us. For Dawson. We have to honor it.”
Beck hesitated, then cast one last longing look at the phoenix before trudging on.
“Just a little further,” Alaire whispered.
They reached the cave’s threshold just as the yetis closed in. Alaire turned, heart pounding, helpless.
The beasts lined in formation, massive fists beating their chests, unleashing an ear-splitting war cry.
And Solflara stood alone on the mountainside, a figure of devastating beauty and fury.
The yetis charged.
She waited. One heartbeat. Two.
Come on, Solf. Please .
On the third, Solflara became fire itself.
Not the careful flames she’d wielded before, but her true power—an inferno that exploded from her center that turned the snowy sky into blinding light. Heat rippled the air; the yetis’ roars twisted into screams, then silence.
The mountain answered. The ground split. Fissures tore through stone and snow, racing outward from her blazing form. Boulders the size of houses sheared loose from the cliffs above.
“Solflara!” Alaire screamed.
The mountainside collapsed around her phoenix. The ground shuddered violently, every fissure widening toward the cave, reclaiming the ashes of those who dared to stand against her phoenix.
Solflara held the line, weaving through falling stone, her fire a barrier that let nothing pass.
“ Hurry ,” Alaire urged down the bond, desperation choking her.
“ In . The . Cave .”
Alaire dodged falling debris, lungs burning with dust. Come on, come on .
Finally, Solflara broke away, flames dimming, exhaustion written in every flicker. Behind her, the entire mountainside gave way in a roaring landslide.
Alaire reached for her—then the world crashed down, sealing the entrance in stone.
They barely made it inside before the mountain buried everything behind them.