Chapter 25 #2
“Fenn!” she yelled, hoping that something in him could hear her, but there was no sign of recognition in his eyes. He was completely lost to the Veilroot.
The Unit Leader advanced, fire flaring from his fingertips as he swiped at her.
She spun low, aiming a kick at his legs, but he blocked it with an arm of stone.
Lightning crackled around his other fist as he slammed down, forcing her to roll out of the way just as the earth exploded where she had been standing.
She countered with a quick upward slice of her blade, aiming for his side, but he was too fast, his arm catching hers mid-swing, twisting her momentum off-balance. In a blur, he shoved her backward with a gust of wind, sending her crashing into a tree, and before she could recover, he was on her.
His hand closed around her throat, crushing her windpipe and pinning her against the bark, leaving her legs to dangle uselessly beneath her.
Rynna gasped for air, her vision swimming as the pressure increased.
He hadn’t even noticed her knife, pressing into his own throat, the edge sharp enough to draw a thin line of blood. He didn’t care.
Fenn’s grip tightened, and her world shrank to the narrow tunnel of darkness closing in around her eyes. Her hand trembled, the knife at his throat barely holding steady. But she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t kill him.
“Rynna! No!” Bran’s scream ripped through the chaos, desperate and terrified.
She had fucking failed. The thought pounded in her skull.
Then, before she lost awareness, she caught a glimpse of the boy over Fenn’s shoulder, his entire body blazing with fire.
His eyes were wide with panic, and then—an explosion.
Red-hot flames erupted from him, but that wasn’t all.
A brilliant stream of white heat surged forward, intertwining with the red like a phoenix in flight.
It barreled toward the two rogue Hollow-borns, lighting up the sky as it screamed across the opening.
“You missed!” Yata screeched as the fire streamed by, leaving him only lightly singed.
“Did I?” Bran wheezed, sinking to his knees.
Rynna froze as Fenn’s iron grip suddenly loosened. Air rushed into her lungs with a gasp, and she crumbled to the ground at his feet, clutching her throat. Where Cain had stood moments before, there was now only a pile of ash, blowing gently in the wind.
He tricked him, Rynna thought, a disbelieving giggle bubbling up from somewhere deep within her. Bran, the class clown, the Hollow-born who could barely control his Source power enough to light a candle, tricked him.
“Yes! Bran!” she tried to call, but her voice didn’t work.
“Fang Unit!” Bran raised a weak fist to the air in triumph, a crooked grin on his face, before his eyes rolled back, and he collapsed into unconsciousness.
Fenn continued to loom above her, unmoving. She scrambled to her feet. “Fenn?!” She slapped him once, then twice. “Fenn! Wake up! We need you!”
But he remained distant, eyes glassy. Rynna’s heart pounded as she glanced around. The Crow was gone, but she knew he was out there. They weren’t safe yet.
“Fenn!” Rynna screamed, searching his eyes desperately, only to find them still vacant, glassy. Shit!
Before she could react, a sharp spear of darkness shot through her shoulder, pinning her to the tree. Pain erupted as another dark lance pierced her opposite shoulder. She gasped, her head snapping toward the source.
Yata stepped from the shadows behind Bran with one hand extended, tendrils connecting him to the black spears impaling her. The shadows pulsed like living veins, coiling from his fingers to her wounds.
“What?” she croaked. Her mind reeled. She'd never seen any Hollow-born wield darkness like that on this world.
“Oh? This?” Yata smiled, his eyes blackening entirely as another strand shot from his hand, cracking like a whip across her cheek. “Yes, quite nice, isn’t it? Part of an advanced payment from my sponsor. The ability to wield the Void as if it were any other element.”
That does not sound good. She watched helplessly as blood poured from her wounds, pooling at the base of the tree.
“But as fun as this has been, whoever you are, I’m afraid the experiment has been rather disappointing.” Yata exhaled dramatically. “The Crimson Wolf of Ember Reach couldn’t even handle one Novice while under the Veilroot.”
Then, with a flick of his wrist, shadows snaked out toward Bran, wrapping around his body, binding his arms and legs, pulling him taut.
“But this...” The villain’s grin widened as he glanced at Bran. “Now, this is intriguing. The sponsor will pay handsomely for this.” He chuckled. “Who knew it was hiding in a mere boy all this time?”
Rynna’s vision blurred as pain tore through her body, but even through the agony, she found herself rolling her eyes. Is this asshole seriously monologuing? The absurdity brought a brief flash of her home world, memories of movies slipping through the cracks of her mind.
“Rynna!” Elara burst through the bushes. “I have the antidote! Is Guide Fenn—?”
She skidded to a halt when her eyes took in the nightmare she’d stumbled into: Rynna pinned to the tree by dark spears while the Unit Leader stood listless in front of her, Bran bound and helpless in the shadow’s grip, and Yata looming over them with his blackened eyes and a smug smile.
“Oh, crap!” The words slipped out, then Elara shot toward Fenn, a small blue ampule clutched tightly in her hand.
Before she got there, though, one of the dark spears pinning Rynna dislodged with a sickening crack and slammed into Elara mid-stride.
The girl’s body hit the earth with a heavy thud, her hands clawing at the dirt as the spear pierced through her gut, blood soaking into the soil. The ampule slipped from her grasp, rolling out of sight as her face drained of color.
“Elara!” Rynna's scream tore through the clearing, her body convulsing against the remaining dark restraint as she fought to free herself, but the shadows held fast, too tight, too strong, and her strength fell with every drop of flowing blood.
Yata clicked his tongue. “How unfortunate.” He tilted his head, watching with cold amusement as Elara writhed.
“It seems Bain wasn’t up to the task of safeguarding the house, even against a single Novice.
” He swept his gaze lazily over the broken forms before him.
“What is Ember Reach feeding you all? This was surprisingly entertaining.”
“Oh well! Time to go.”
He shrugged, and the shadows wrapped around Bran like chains, lifting him off the ground. His body hung limp as they dragged him inch by inch toward the rogue. Rynna’s heart raced, helplessness gnawing at her.
Then she heard it, soft footfalls through the brush. Someone was coming. Her heart leaped, though fear clamped down just as quickly. Please, not Taren, she prayed silently. Please let him escape.
But it wasn’t Taren. Bursting from the undergrowth came Gran Hesta, her frail form charging. And in her hand, Rynna squinted, was the antidote.
“No!” Yata snarled, yanking the final spear from Rynna’s shoulder and hurling it toward Gran Hesta.
But the old woman was already there. With the last of her strength, she slammed the pointed end of the antidote into Fenn’s leg just as the darkness tore into her flesh.
The impact sent her stumbling, and blood sprayed in every direction as hundreds of cuts bloomed across her body.
Her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell to the ground, her life pooling around her.
“Granny, no!” Elara cried, but it was too late.
Rynna’s throat tightened as she dragged her own battered body toward the person who had betrayed them. Fingers shaking, she gently closed the old woman’s eyes, tears blurring her vision. But there was no time to mourn. Not yet.
With what little strength she had left, Rynna hauled herself up Fenn’s motionless body, gripping onto his shoulders with blood-slicked hands. She pressed her forehead to his chest, praying, searching for any sign that the antidote had taken hold.
“Rynna…” His voice cracked, a rasp barely above a whisper.
“Fenn!” She looked up, catching the life flicker behind his once-vacant eyes.
Then it was gone, his body sagging once more under the weight of the drug.
“Ohhh…” Yata exhaled. “Oh, my, my. You had me worried for a moment there. A valiant sacrifice from the old woman, how touching. A true hero’s tale!”
“Shut up!” Rynna screamed.
“But he’s too far gone now.” Yata sneered. “The Veilroot is embedded too deeply in his blood. Not even the antidote can purge it. He’s lost to you, girl. He may as well be dead.”
“No!”
“If you ever decide you’d like to join a winning side, come looking.” Yata licked his lips, eyes gleaming with sick amusement as he turned away.
I’m going to kill him. The thought surged through her mind like fire, setting every nerve alight. Her vision blurred with fury, and the Hunger, the ancient, monstrous darkness buried inside her, stirred. If it’s the last thing I do on this world, I’ll make him bleed.
Her fangs extended, sharp and deadly, as that savage part of her awoke, ravenous, and her nails elongated into claws, her fingers digging into Fenn’s shoulders. As they drew blood, the scent of it hit her senses, tangy and rich, mingling with the filthy remnants of the drug.
What? For a second, it distracted her, grounding her amidst the storm of her rage.
Blood. The thought echoed like a chant. It’s in the blood.
She blinked, her claws retracting, as the realization dawned. Blood is MY domain!
Rynna pressed her lips to Fenn’s neck and gently sank her fangs into his soft throat. He let out a quiet grunt, his body still weak but responding to her touch as blood, warm and thick, flowed into her mouth.
It was rich and intoxicating, yet marred by the bitter taint of Veilroot. And with every careful sip, she focused, fighting against the instinct to take it all, and drew the poison from his blood into her own.