Chapter 8 Velra
~Velra~
“Come!”
“I can’t.”
“What? What are you talking about?”
He merely smiled. “Take care of them. Especially our volatile wolf. He’ll need you more than ever.”
“No! You are not doing this!”
“It’s already done, Little Wraith.”
“Sylas!”
My eyes snapped open.
I bolted up immediately from… from… what?
Adrenaline and panic tore through me, making me shake and pant, as I rapidly tried to discern my surroundings. I couldn’t… I couldn’t not know where I was. Especially not after Sorin had come for me again. Not now that I wasn’t safe anymore.
I took in the kaleidoscope of colors above spanning the vaulted ceiling, the white stone walls, the holographic medical charts levitating over where I found myself—inside a Restoration Chamber.
It was Aetheric Wing, basically the medical bay inside the Guardian Compound.
I’d been admitted here before after the last time Sorin had tried to have me killed. When Cassius had pulled me back from the brink and—no, no, no!
The Soul Brand! If I’d died, had Cassius—
I sat up, shoving the lid of the Chamber off me, jerking aside the sterile white sheet I was wrapped in.
Intense relief coursed through me when I saw those familiar white and purple intersecting lines in all their usual vibrancy.
The Soul Brand was intact. Cassius was okay.
The Brand wouldn’t look like this if he wasn’t.
But that didn’t mean he hadn’t been hurt.
Because of me. Because he was linked to me.
I tried to reach through the Soul Brand, to connect, to make sure, to feel him.
But there was weakness that wouldn’t allow me to do it.
Weakness on my end.
No. I couldn’t be weak. Sorin was out there.
When word reached him that he’d failed—yet again—he’d be furious. And a madman in fury? Holy hell.
I forced myself out of the Restoration Chamber, noting that there were no Healers gliding around. Maybe I’d woken up during a shift change?
I managed to wrap the sheet around me, tucking it around my chest like a towel, then I carefully put one foot in front of the other.
Lightheadedness swam.
My legs shook.
My hands were even trembling.
And the exhaustion plaguing me was a real bitch of a thing.
I stumbled and slapped my hand to the nearest surface.
Another Restoration Chamber.
One that was closed, unlike the others lining the same wall.
It meant somebody was inside.
Hurt and being healed.
I started when I saw exactly who it was.
“Oh my God,” I rasped. “Sylas.”
He was unconscious on his back, his arms down by his sides. So still. So un-Sylas like. His face was gaunt and pale, just like the rest of him. Even his spiky brown hair with the red streaks was flattened and out of its usual striking shape.
And worst of all were the gray tints to his skin. Marks of desiccation.
It plagued his left thigh, his right side, his abs, even his throat.
I took in the six tubes sinking into his body—three from either side—and saw that familiar milky liquid with the crimson flecks in it.
His serum.
It was being pumped into his body, yet he was still desiccated in places.
I pressed my palm to the special glass, emotion catching in my throat, my words coming out strained, “I’m so sorry.”
A rush of familiar power startled me and I turned to see somebody I very much wanted to see bursting in like an angel of vengeance, almost ripping the doors off their hinges in the process.
“Little shadow,” he breathed.
I smiled. “Cassius.”
There he was, his wavy blond hair brushing his shoulders, those stunning gold eyes fixing on me instantly with so much adoration.
He was dressed down, really casually, especially for him, in a fitted black crewneck t-shirt, and a pair of charcoal jeans, polished boots on his feet.
He looked… worn down.
Not physically, because that wasn’t possible for him given his Celestial heritage, unless he was severely injured.
Like he had been that night.
Because of me.
“I’m so sorry,” I choked.
He frowned. “What are you apologizing for?”
“You were hurt. You suffered. And the fault is mine.”
He came to me, supporting my weight and even tightening the sheet around me. “The fault is certainly not yours.”
“Cassius—”
“It is not.” He caught my gaze flicking to Sylas. “No. You are not responsible for his condition either. Those are indisputable facts. Sorin and Puritas bear responsibility. End of story.”
I jolted in his arms. “Puritas?”
He winced.
“Cassius? This wasn’t him acting alone?”
I remembered that Sorin had referenced ‘we’ when he’d been spewing his hate and threats at me, including a very specific threat against Lazriel. But he’d been known to posture before and also majorly embellish his standing in certain situations and the power he had at his back.
Cassius drew in a breath. “Puritas has risen.”
“Then Lazriel is in grave and immediate danger. I need to tell—”
“We are all aware. The Guardian Movement is taking steps as we speak.”
His gaze had flickered as he’d said that.
“You’re not telling me something.”
It hit me then. “I tried to feel you through the Soul Brand when I woke up, but I couldn’t. I thought it was my current weakness, but it’s not, is it? You’re doing it again?” My voice cracked. “You’re cutting off that connection, barring me from feeling you?”
“Just temporarily. I swear it to you.”
“Temporarily why?”
“Just until you have fully recovered.”
“Why? What’s happened?”
“Velra, let us focus on you regaining your strength and equilibrium. Not to mention, what you endured was far from just physical damage.”
I stared up at him steadily. “I think you know me better than that.”
His lips quirked. “You are correct. I most certainly do. A force of nature.” Off my look, he explained, “That is what I have heard Lazriel call you. And it is undeniably fitting.” He shifted his hold around me so he was supporting me with one hand only, his other free, then lifting to stroke my cheek.
“That is why Sorin rages so intensely against you, because he knows he cannot break you, and that infuriates a twisted beast of a being like him.”
I reached out and pressed my hand to his shirt, right over where I knew the Soul Brand to be, stroking softly.
He smiled down at me, then covered my hand with his, holding me right there.
He dipped his head and nuzzled against me.
And then I felt him reopen his end of our connection.
“I am here,” he whispered. “Fear not, we will weather this together.”
His words rolled over me a moment before the sensations did, all that he’d been keeping at bay now bleeding into me.
Painfully.
My hand fisted in his shirt and he stroked the back of it soothingly as I tried to reconcile it all.
Agony.
Terror.
Hopelessness.
Grief.
Then… solace.
Pleasure… rough pleasure… Lazriel? Yes. It was him—them.
The relief of feeling that was all too short-lived, though, as it gave way to panic.
Desperation.
And… failure?
Then… loss.
I lifted my head. “Lazriel’s gone.”
He swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“What about the bracelet I made for him?”
“He left it behind.”
I started.
“I know. He intends to seek out information on Puritas to aid us from The Shadowed, specifically, through his father. He is running on emotion and—”
“No. He’s not being reckless.”
“You don’t think so?”
I shook my head. “Recklessness for Lazriel would be doing something like going after Sorin alone. But him seeking out information… that’s him thinking strategically. Carefully.”
“What about him leaving the protection of my apartment and tearing off on his own?”
“Wolf mentality coupled with him knowing very well that he would be stopped if he’d suggested it. He believes he can help, but he’s being sidelined.” I saw him move to protest. “Yes, I know, for his own safety, but still.”
“I see.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re going to let this happen. We act together. No matter what.”
He grimaced and looked at Sylas. “It was actually only Lazriel who pushed for that when you… died. I intended to sacrifice my life for yours. Sylas did do so.”
“This… what the four of us are building… it’s a work in progress.
Each of us has spent our lives lone-wolfing it, Cassius.
It’s not an easy thing to break through.
And it’s definitely so tempting to retreat to it in moments of crisis.
” I reached out and stroked his hair. “We’ll get there. We’ll figure it all out.”
“How can you be so sure?” he asked, so vulnerably that it hit me deep.
“Because… it’s worth it, isn’t it?”
A smile spread over his face. “It most certainly is, little shadow.”
“Now, about Lazriel… what’s the status with trying to track him down?”
“He had Kelsana assist him.”
“Kelsana? Oh my God, is she okay? I managed to get her out of Vantiqe in time, but—”
“She is well. Shaken up. Mostly for you. She tried to visit you here but security was too tight… given the situation. However, in my bid to find Lazriel, I paid her a visit at Wraeven Academy and assured her that you would make a full recovery.”
“You did?”
“Of course. I understand that your developing friendship with her is important to you.”
I smiled. “Thank you, Cassius.”
He smiled back, then went on, “About the help she gave Lazriel… he told her that, to help you, he needed access to the results of the Blood Trace that Sylas performed on him. So she created a tracking spell and infused it into a crystal. Because of The Shadowed’s nature, she couldn’t pinpoint a location directly.
The crystal could only guide the way. And only Lazriel could use it, since he’s the one with the blood connection to Remnant, the one being tracked.
” He drew in a breath before continuing.
“Lazriel also had my blood in his system when he left, so I tried tracking him through my own magical signature. It failed. There was nothing to latch onto.”
“He flushed your blood out of his system?”
“Ketheron and I determined that it was actually the tonic that Lazriel consumed which contained Ryker Morgan’s defensive magic that annihilated the magical properties of my blood.”
“A tonic?”