Chapter 40 #2
Rynna vanished, reappearing behind the smaller man as her blade sliced through the air, and before it even realized it was dead or deader, its head was toppling from its shoulders.
In the same heartbeat, Taren lunged forward, the flames from his great sword dancing as the blade cleaved through the larger Demon’s body in a single, fluid stroke.
The fire roared, engulfing the monster’s flesh before it could fall, turning it to ash as its remains exploded outward in a scorching burst.
“Behead…then burn.” Kaelith pulled his arms back, wiping debris from his charred sleeve. “Not behead and burn at the same time, boy.”
Rynna smirked and clenched her fist, the now familiar heat flaring beneath her skin as she tapped into the fire that smoldered deep within her.
Easier to touch every time she used it, flames burst from her hands, fierce and wild.
It was different from Taren’s flame, and even the Great Phoenix’s, but no less powerful.
The name of that fire teased the back of her mind, so close she could almost grasp it, but not quite.
Her opponent burned, and with a slow release of air, she forced the power down, locking it away before it could consume her.
“Like that,” Kaelith pointed at Rynna. “Behead…then burn.”
Taren kicked at the settling dust and moved toward the door. “You know, for someone who claims not to like working with others, you sure talk a lot.”
“Rynna’s a terrible influence. What can I say?” Kaelith approached her, giving her a quick once-over, checking for damage.
Your arm okay? she asked.
Not the first time I’ve been burned.
Rynna turned her attention to the massive door. “So how do we get it open? Just blow it up?”
Kaelith and Taren exchanged a long look, both exasperated.
“You take right, I’ll take left.” Taren extended his hand, his eyes closing in concentration.
Without a word, Kaelith mirrored the motion, his hand hovering over the other side of the stone.
They stood like that for a while, silent but focused, as Rynna fought the rising impatience gnawing at her, knowing Fenn was just beyond it.
“What’s taking so long?” Her fingers flexed, the urge to act building with every passing second.
“Almost there.” Taren’s brows drew together. “Just a little more…”
“Yeah,” Kaelith grunted. “I’ve got it.”
“Not so hard.”
“I said, I’ve got it, boy.”
The door groaned a deep, unsettling sound, then dust sprayed out from the corners in sudden bursts, and the massive slab slowly began to tilt outward.
“Move!” Taren shouted, and they leaped back just as the door fell with a heavy crash.
Dust hung thick in the air, coating her tongue and stinging her eyes as it drifted down in slow, lazy spirals.
Rynna lifted an arm to shield her face, each step forward tentative as the room emerged, shape by shape, from the haze.
The walls, rough and cold to the touch, seemed to absorb what little light filtered in.
In the center of the room, a single stone chair stood out, stark against the barren surroundings. Fenn slumped in it, his head hanging low, his arms bound tightly by thick leather straps.
“No,” Rynna gasped.
A large glass cylinder stood nearby, its contents swirling with black, oily liquid. Thin tubes extended from the cylinder, leading to Fenn’s arms, where the substance was being pumped slowly into his veins. Black lines beneath his skin snaked up his arms, spreading outward like poison.
“Fenn!” Her strangled cry echoed through the chamber, and she tensed, muscles coiling to launch herself toward him before freezing mid-step.
From behind the cylinder, Skarn stepped into view. It was the same man who had stolen away the boys during the Ascension. His lips curled into a sneer as he pressed a polished knife to Fenn’s throat, the blade biting into the skin just enough to draw a thin, black line of blood.
“Not much longer now.” Skarn extended a long, forked tongue and drew it slowly up Fenn’s cheek.
Rynna’s vision narrowed, a growl rumbling deep under her ribs as the edges of her vision darkened. “They don’t have words for the pain you’re about to experience.”
“And does the Novice who is not a Novice finally reveal herself?” Skarn nuzzled into Fenn’s neck, then turned his focus toward Kaelith. “I can’t believe you left me for her.” His words dripped with venom as he spat. “She loves another. How could she possibly love you? Not like I do.”
“Is he insane?” Taren did not spare the man a glance.
“Obviously.” Kaelith’s voice was cold.
Rynna barely registered their voices, her focus now a razored thread tied solely to Skarn. Blood rushed in her ears as the darkness in her vision grew.
“You think I’m insane!?” Skarn cackled, pressing the knife harder into Fenn’s flesh, carving a deep line into his cheek. He leaned in, licking the blood with a twisted grin.
The world went black. Mine.
Rynna’s fangs slid down, gleaming.
Skarn swallowed the blood with a wide smile, and her hands twitched, fingers elongating into points.
Mine! The swords in her grip clattered to the ground, forgotten. Her eyes went completely dark, darker than the void itself, swirling like storm clouds.
“He is mine!” Her voice was no longer human.
Skarn’s mouth fell as Rynna’s rage filled the room, the bravado slipping from his face and replaced by something close to fear. His grip on the knife tightened, and in his growing panic, the blade slipped, cutting deep across Fenn’s throat as he flinched.
Before he could react further, Rynna moved, closing the distance in a blur. Her claws sank deep into his shoulder, the heat of his blood slick against her palm as she wrenched and hurled him aside. His body whipped through the air and hit the stone wall with a crack that echoed through the chamber.
The only thing that kept her from flying after him was the hot and metallic scent of blood spilling onto the floor.
Fenn’s blood.
It cut through her rage, tethering her back to the moment, pulling her from the brink of destruction. Her eyes jerked to Fenn, horror coursing through her as she saw the dark crimson flowing from his neck, pooling on the floor beneath the chair.
“No!” Fear crashed over her like a wave, extinguishing the dark hunger that had gripped her. What have I done?
She fell onto Fenn, her fingers frantically ripping out the needle from his arm, casting the blackened tube aside. Blood flowed freely from his neck, spilling around her hands as she pressed them to the wound, trying to stem the tide of his life slipping through her fingers.
“Fenn!” A sob tore from her throat as she pressed harder.
“Is there anything you can do?” Kaelith was beside her now, his voice tight.
“I… I…” Rynna choked. “Between the poison and the blood…his main artery is completely severed. I’m not a goddamn healer!”
“There’s nothing? Nothing, maybe from another life…something you’ve learned?”
Her mind raced, grasping at fragments of forgotten skills and buried memories, but nothing surfaced.
“I’m sorry, Rynna.” Taren was on her other side. “Healing isn’t my skill set either. If Elara were here…”
But Elara wasn’t here, and even if she were, Fenn’s wounds were too much. The blood was draining too fast—seconds, that’s all he had left.
“I’ll deal with Skarn,” Taren said, already moving toward the door. “There’s nothing more I can do here. I want to catch him before he gets too far.”
Kaelith’s hand landed gently on Rynna’s shoulder. “I’ll stay.”
She didn’t hear them. Her mind screamed against the reality unfolding in front of her. There would be no second chances. There were no threads to pull. He was supposed to die. Here. Now. The Rules...
Fuck the Rules. Rynna ground her teeth, the memory of the first time she’d come dangerously close to defying them for him—when the Veilroot had taken Fenn in Fallowmere, and she had drawn the poison from his blood and into herself.
The poison had been disgusting, sapping her strength, but the vampiric infection within her had scoffed, devouring it after only a brief internal struggle.
And…he’d healed.
Her breath hitched.
Would it work again? The question pounded through her. Could she cleanse his blood and heal him at the same time?
Her decision made, she ripped off the bindings that held him to the chair and gently cradled Fenn in her arms.
“Stay with me,” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread of hope. “Stay with me.”
Her hands trembled as she raised his wrist to her mouth, hesitating for the briefest moment, as she grazed her fingers over his skin. Then, slowly, deliberately, she extended her fangs, just enough to pierce the surface of his flesh with a gentle bite.
“Rynna?” Kaelith asked, crouching next to her.
She ignored him, focusing on Fenn.
You can do this, she told herself, but as soon as Fenn’s blood touched her tongue, the strange power within it engulfed her entirely.
Whatever new version of Veilroot now flowed through his veins—more drug than blood now—caught her, darkness swallowing her vision again. But this time, it wasn’t hers.
Before she could resist, the Source-corrupted Void element pouring from Fenn’s wrist yanked her free of her body, hurling her somewhere else entirely.
What is this?
She took a step, and ripples of black ink spread from her foot, cascading out into the vast emptiness around her.
Her heart raced as she glanced around. It felt as if she had been torn from reality and placed into an abyss where nothing existed.
A shiver crawled up her spine as some half-forgotten memory stirred, trying to break the surface.
This is bad.
“Fenn!” she called out, her voice lost in the vast emptiness of the space.
“Rynna?” he answered, faint at first, then stronger as his image shimmered into view before her. “Rynna?”
“I’m here!” She rushed to him, relief flooding her. “I’m going to get you out of here.”