Chapter 38
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
We skid to a stop at the jagged edge of the rift, our momentum almost sending us over the fifty-foot drop. A steep decline spreads out in each direction, and I don’t see an easy way down.
The Wastelands is a massive depression that’s leagues wide and spans the continent from north to south, a result of the land collapsing in on itself as magic was torn from it.
It’s so much worse than I realized. I run my hands through my hair and drop to my knees as I take in the devastation I created.
Mikael places his hand on my shoulder and applies pressure. I put my hand on top of his and look up at him, shaking my head in disbelief before turning back to the ruined land before us.
I did this. My choice. My bargain.
There were once lush forests, grassy plains, and lakes in this area before it turned into a dry and desolate place.
Now, it’s a vast red-orange desert.
The cracked ground is now starved for water or any substance that would allow it to thrive.
I remind myself that I had saved more people than I doomed.
My bargain may have ruined the land that was being fought over, but I did it for the right reasons. If they couldn’t share it like we always had, or divide it evenly, then no one should have it.
Mikael speaks firmly, but softly. “I wish we had time, but we don’t. She hasn’t relented.”
I stand and check behind us. The female vampire is too close for comfort. “Can’t we just take her down?”
Mikael’s watching her, then turns back to me. “Have you already forgotten what I did to your palace guards? We killed her mate. It’s never good to be on the receiving end of that kind of rage.”
“Right. So do we just throw ourselves off this edge and hope we make it down?” I laugh nervously. I don’t really see any other way than to chance a very uncomfortable descent. Either by carefully going down sideways or by sliding down on our asses.
“Let’s jump, get it over with.” Mikael’s tone is anything but playful.
We both know we don’t have another option.
“We won’t be able to heal ourselves if something happens,” I counter.
“I know, but it would take too long to find a better spot. She’s going to keep chasing us.” He grabs my hand. “We will survive, just maybe with a few bruises.”
I sigh and look around, knowing he’s right. Even going down gently would take too long. “On three? One, two—”
He pulls me over the edge before I finish counting.
My feet slam into the red dust, the loose particles exploding around us. It’s soft enough to pad our landing, but when my boots sink into it, I lose my balance and flip forward.
Our hands are torn apart as I tumble down the hill head over heels more than once. Just when I think I’ve caught myself, I slide and roll down further, catapulting small distances before rolling again.
A sandstorm rises around me as the red sand is disturbed. Finally, I land on my back, on the hard, cracked floor of the rift.
I groan and pull in breaths, staring at the stars that are starting to fade in dawn’s light.
I’m just grateful that I’m still alive. Because that was rough. I push up onto my knees and look up at the top of the rift. Well, at least I know what that’s like. This whole quest for my soul has been challenging, both mentally and physically, and I’m so ready for it to be over.
“Are you alive?” I ask through the swirling cloud of red that’s only just starting to settle.
“Barely.” Mikael grunts. “That was the best decision I’ve made.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that was so much fun. I wish we could do it again.”
“Well, when we save you, we can do it as many times as you like,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Once was enough for me.” I crawl over to him and sit on my haunches, resting a hand on his chest. I push some of the hair that fell into his face off his forehead. “You look good with red hair.”
He smiles at me. “Should I dye it?”
“Maybe one day.” I chuckle, then ask, “Ready?”
“Yeah.” Mikael sits up and puts a finger under my jaw and guides my mouth to his.
His kiss is a gentle press of his lips against mine. A gentle exploration of all the places he’s been before, a savoring of his favorite taste.
He pulls away, with brows furrowed and a solemn expression passing over his features. “Let’s go, we don’t have much time left.”
We both get up and dust off our clothing. When I turn to gather my bearings, I feel quick swipes across my ass. I whip back around to face Mikael.
“Just making sure you got it all off.” He winks.
I shake my head and playfully roll my eyes, returning to my assessment of where we’re at.
According to the maps I’ve memorized, we’re standing slightly north of the rift’s midpoint, where General Salinthor’s forces marched west from the capital and met King Ignatus’s army. The tips of the Frostfire Mountains are visible far in the distance, marking north.
I can’t imagine any markers remain after all this time, indicating where I made the bargain. It was in a clearing among trees, but only dead ones remain, their trunks blackened and the branches bare. Bark and limbs litter the red sand that’s replaced what was once grass and soil.
“It’s hard to tell where it happened. There are hardly any trees left, and the only thing visible from this far down are the mountain peaks.” I frown.
“Do you think your magic could lead you there? You’ve always told me that powerful magic leaves traces,” Mikael says, standing beside me and looking around.
“It’s possible, but you know I can’t use magic here.”
“Yes, but magic still lives within you.”
“Wait, how can the curse be broken if no magic works here? Who or what is going to be able to restore my soul?” I run my hands through my hair. “Did I make the wrong choice?”
Mikael pulls my arms down to my sides. “Calm down. We’re already here and I trust your decision. Remember, curses are their own kind of magic. They play by their own rules.”
“Okay… okay…” I slowly spin around, trying to sense anything. Any thread of magic, searching deep within myself, but there’s nothing.
I close my eyes and picture the land and the maps, old and new, orienting myself from my memories and from where the Frostfire Mountains are. There are only three directions we can go: south, east, or north. To the west, the wall of the rift towers behind us.
“This way.” I point northeast, toward a gathering of trees widely spread out from each other.
I turn at the manic and feral scream that comes from behind us. The female vampire is standing at the top of the rift, at the edge looking down at us.
“I hope you die in the Wastelands! If you don’t, I’ll find you when you return! One way or another, you’ll pay for what you did!” She screams at us, throwing her dagger, but it falls short, getting stuck in the sand on the way down.
“Let’s go,” Mikael says, turning away from her.
Threatening screams follow us as we walk away from her. When they stop I look over my shoulder, checking if she’s followed, but she’s no longer there. Or following us.
The sun moves across the sky, beaming down on us, as we walk deeper into this desolate place.
The hours tick by, the gathering of trees further away than they looked.
A hot, dry wind kicks up, swirling around us, and pushes particles of sand into spinning columns of dust.
Heat that settles over us, permeating my clothing. It’s the kind that smacks you in the face when you enter a smith’s forge. An uncomfortable pressure that chokes the air from your lungs.
Sweat beads within every crevice of my body, along my forehead, between my breasts—everywhere.
How can there be such a difference from the cold of the land above? It’s winter, yet it’s sweltering down here.
Sparks of liquid fire bubble up from the ground the further we walk. It feels like the place described in human lore, known to them as hell. Perhaps a human ventured this far and returned, spreading tales of the Wastelands without knowing the history behind it.
I haven’t seen a single life form or heard anything but the wind that continues to pummel us with sand.
“I don’t know where I’m leading us. I can’t sense anything.”
“Are there any markers from before?” he asks, placing a hand on my back.
Only days ago, this gesture had sparked different emotions. Now, it’s a reassuring anchor.
“I just… I think we’re close… but I don’t know…
” I wipe the sweat from my forehead with the back of my arm.
It slides off the leathers I’m still wearing.
We’re both still in our clothing from the other day, and it is making the heat worse.
It’s getting to my head, dulling my thoughts.
“We probably have hours until we run out of time.”
He pulls me around to face him. “Breathe. Your mind might not remember where it happened, but your body does. Trust yourself.”
I let out a heavy breath and grab onto his arms. “You’re right. I’m letting the stress of everything get to me.”
“We’ll make it. We’re here, close to the last location.” He leans down and kisses the top of my head.
I let go of his arms and turn around, looking in each direction, trying to orient myself.
My gaze catches on another grouping of trees not far from us. I can see it in my mind, how their full canopies used to mingle with each other, providing heady shade. But now, they seem so much further apart. Their barren branches reach for each other, but the decay has stifled them.
There, in the middle of the dead trees, are a dozen harsh black lines, like the rays of the sun, gathered into a center point so dark, it looks as if there’s a hole in the ground.
Before I realize it, I’m standing on the outside of the starburst, mentally tracing the spiked lines.
There isn’t a speck of red sand or dust coating the area.
My body aches at the memory chiseled into my bones. My fingers curl inward, nails digging into my palms as I’m locked into the past.
Mikael and the Wastelands fall away.
The raw, pulsing power that surged through me that day coats my skin anew. The sensation morphs into tiny pinpricks—a curious prodding, like something seeks what magic I have left to offer.
I’ve returned to the place where I’ll meet my reckoning. Where it began and will end. Vertebra by vertebra, a chill spreads, weaving through each rib and into my lungs.
The breath in my lungs freezes.
And then, something inside me shatters, a deep-rooted part of myself.
It’s wrong. So wrong.
Only an empty and hollowed-out version of myself remains.
Cold and alone.
But I’m not alone.
A deep, pained grunt pierces the veil shrouding my mind.
I grip the dagger’s hilt, the solidity of it anchoring me to the present. I pivot, my foot spinning in the sand.
A whimper escapes.
My stomach drops, muscles go slack, and I almost collapse at the sight of Mikael.
Lodged through his chest is a makeshift stake.
Mikael’s wide eyes meet mine, and the world falls away again. Every unsaid proclamation of love, a thousand apologies, every moment we shared, and all the ones we now never will.
His mouth moves, but only a strained breath and blood leak from his lips.
I shake my head, not wanting him to expend any more energy.
“How does it feel?” the female vampire asks, her white-knuckled hand wrapped around the stake.
Without waiting for an answer, she removes her hand from the stake, then slides her fingers beneath the chain around his neck.
She rips it off, letting go of him. As his body falls, she tucks it into her pocket. “He won’t be needing that.”
She’s going to use King Ignatus’s blood to ascend.
Anguish turns into a searing rage that boils my blood, vibrating through every muscle, filling me until my vision is painted red.
Not on my watch.
“Neither will you.” I release the dagger in my hand without hesitation.
She dodges it, but not before the blade slices her arm. Her own dagger flies through the air, aimed at my heart. I dash to the side, then bolt toward Mikael and grab one of his blades.
I grip the hilt of his sword and swipe it across the space between us, advancing my attack. She swings her sword meeting mine. The twang of steel clashing over and over echoes through the emptiness of the Wastelands.
We parry, exchanging blows.
Slamming together, our blades lock.
Death burns behind our eyes.
Neither one of us has anything else to lose.
This is a fight of wills; of who will last the longest, who will be able to avenge their mate the best.
Mikael didn’t want to cross an angry vampire, but she’s released the storm that will consume her.
For me, it’s more than just losing my mate.
It’s everything that’s happened over the last few hundred years that fuels me—regret, loss, grief, anger, rekindled love, being cursed, and being rejected—burning through me until I become her devastation and my own.
I will not let someone take another thing from me.
Not without payment.
Just as quickly as we locked, she pushes against me and my feet slide on the dusty ground, scrambling for purchase. Her foot connects with my knee as she shoves me back.
I trip over dead branches, my ass slamming into the ground. I hiss, raging like a rabid animal. Clawing my fingers into the sand, I pull it away with me as I roll and avoid the blow aimed at my neck.
I spring to my feet, but she’s already turned toward me with her sword raised. Before her arm arcs downward I release the sand into her face.
Her head jerks back and she sputters, wiping her eyes, but still swings blindly. The sharp edge of her blade slices only air, and I take advantage of her disorientation.
I slash Mikael’s blade across her chest, cutting through flesh and muscle from shoulder to hip. Her head dips to the wound, too stunned to scream, then her eyes flick up to my face.
A vicious smile lifts the corners of my lips as I place my boot on her bloody chest and kick, sending her to the ground.
She’s splayed out beneath me, and I waste no time stabbing her through the heart. I twist my blade, wanting to overload her senses so that the last thing on her mind is immense pain before she takes her last breath.
“Bryn…” Mikael calls out my name, but it’s too weak.
A dying breath.