Chapter 38
MORGAN
The alcove felt smaller after Xavian stormed out, the stone walls closing in like they were breathing, exhaling a chill that seeped into my skin and made me shiver despite the blanket I'd pulled over myself.
My body ached everywhere, not just the stump of my wrist but a deeper exhaustion that dragged at my limbs, weighing them down as if the day's tensions had turned to lead in my veins.
The almost-kiss lingered in the air like smoke, his sudden pull away replaying in my mind, the shadows flickering in his eyes stirring a confusion I couldn't shake.
Anger still simmered, hot and unresolved, but it was tangled with something else now, a reluctant pull that left me unsettled, staring at the empty space where he'd been.
The settlement's distant hum filtered through the curtain of vines at the entrance—muffled voices, the occasional clink of tools—but it all blurred as my eyelids grew heavy, the weight of everything pulling me under.
I shifted on the pallet, trying to find a position that didn't press on the bandages, my good hand resting across my stomach, and let my eyes close, the world softening at the edges until sleep claimed me without fanfare.
The chill in the alcove had deepened, wrapping around me like a fog that clung to my clothes and made my breaths come out in visible puffs, even though the glowing orb above should have warmed the space.
I sat up slowly, rubbing at my eyes, but the light seemed dimmer than before, casting long shadows that stretched across the floor in unnatural angles, pooling in corners where they didn't belong.
The vines over the entrance hung still, not swaying with the faint drafts that usually stirred them, and the distant sounds of the settlement had faded to nothing, leaving a silence so complete it pressed against my ears like water.
My stump throbbed dully, but the pain felt distant, muffled, as if wrapped in layers of cotton, and when I flexed my remaining hand, the motion was sluggish, the air resisting like it was thicker than it should be.
I swung my legs over the edge of the pallet, feet touching the stone floor that felt smoother under my soles, almost polished, without the rough grit I'd grown used to.
Something nagged at me, a wrongness in the stillness, but I pushed it aside, standing and moving toward the entrance, the vines parting under my touch with a rustle that echoed too loudly in the quiet.
The tunnel beyond looked the same at first, walls etched with those faint runes, but the glow from them was steadier, unblinking, casting a blue tint that made everything feel colder, more sterile.
No voices carried from the main cavern, no clatter of daily life; just that oppressive silence, broken only by my own footsteps, which sounded muffled, as if swallowed by the stone.
A figure appeared at the end of the tunnel, stepping out from a side passage with a grace that drew my eye immediately.
Tall, with sharp features and dark hair pulled back, moving with the same controlled poise I'd come to associate with Xavian.
But as they drew closer, confusion twisted in my gut—the lines of their face were softer, feminine, eyes the same a piercing gray, no more than few years beyond him.
It was like looking at him through a mirror that reflected a feminine copy, the resemblance so striking it took a breath to process.
Nyra. The name hit me like a cold wave, stories from Xavian flooding back, but how was she here, in this hidden place?
Fear prickled at my skin, but it mixed with bewilderment because something felt off, her presence too calm, the tunnel too still around her.
She smiled, a curve of her lips that didn't warm her eyes, and stepped forward, her voice smooth and echoing strangely in the confined space.
"You've come far, haven't you? Deeper than you realize.
" Her hand extended toward me, fingers curling slightly, not in threat but with a purpose that made my pulse quicken.
I backed up a step, my back brushing the wall, the stone colder than it should have been, sending a shiver through me that felt like pressure building in my chest.
"Stay back," I said, my voice coming out steadier than I felt, but she didn't stop, closing the distance with measured steps, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that pinned me.
Her touch reached me then, fingers brushing my arm, not rough but insistent, a heat spreading from the contact that burned under my skin, pulling at something inside me like threads being woven tight.
It wasn't pain at first, but a binding, as if she was trying to tie me down, to wrap those invisible strands around my thoughts, my will, forcing me to yield.
I reacted on instinct, twisting away and swinging my good hand at her, but she moved faster, her grip shifting to my shoulder, the heat intensifying until it felt like fire racing through my veins.
Panic surged, hot and frantic, and I thrashed against her hold, kicking out and shoving with all the strength I had left, but she held firm, her face unchanging, that smile still in place as if this was expected, purposeful.
"You can't fight it," she said, her voice layering with echoes that didn't belong, and then other figures appeared, stepping out from the walls like shadows detaching themselves, their forms blurred and indistinct, swarming around me with hands that grabbed at my arms, my legs, pulling me down.
I screamed, the sound tearing from my throat as I fought harder, elbowing one in the face, kicking another's knee, but they were too many, their grips like iron bands that tightened with every struggle, the pressure in my chest building until it felt like I couldn't breathe.
Heat flooded me, not just from her touch but from somewhere deeper, a burning that spread outward, cracking sounds echoing around us as the tunnel walls began to fracture, fissures opening with sharp snaps that vibrated through the ground.
The figures swarmed thicker, their faces shifting into masks of shadow, hands pressing down on me from all sides, the situation spiraling as I thrashed and screamed, my voice raw and breaking.
Sensations bled in that didn't fit—pressure crushing my ribs, heat exploding in waves that made the air shimmer, distant shouts piercing through the chaos like echoes from another place.
The tunnel warped further, walls bending inward, the figures' grips turning to fire that burned without consuming, and Nyra's face loomed closer, her eyes glowing with that purposeful intent, the dream fracturing at the edges as cracks spread wider, the ground shaking with a roar that drowned out my screams.
I woke with a jolt, my body lurching upright on the pallet, heart pounding so hard it echoed in my ears like thunder.
The alcove was in shambles, walls splintered with deep cracks that ran from floor to ceiling, as if a force had ripped through from the center, stone fractured in patterns that glowed with fading blue light.
Markings burned into the surfaces, twisting runes etched black into the rock, smoking at the edges like they'd been seared by intense heat.
Objects lay scattered and shattered—the bench reduced to splintered wood, the glowing orb cracked and sputtering on the floor, its light flickering erratically over the debris.
Dust hung in the air, thick and choking, and the ground beneath me trembled slightly, aftershocks rippling through as if the surge hadn't fully stopped.
People crowded the entrance, faces pale and wide-eyed, some shouting, others backing away as fresh cracks snaked across the floor.
Nexlin was there, pushing through with a staff raised, his voice booming over the din, but it was Xavian who broke through first, his eyes locked on me with a mix of alarm and urgency, shoving past the others to reach my side.
"Morgan! Stop it!" he yelled, his voice cutting through the chaos, hands reaching for me as if to grab hold, to ground whatever was happening.
Stop what? Confusion crashed over me, raw and disorienting, because I hadn't done anything—I'd been asleep, trapped in that nightmare with Nyra and the swarming figures, thrashing against binds that weren't real.
But as I looked down, horror twisted in my gut: the rune on my arm glowed fiercely, brighter than ever, pulsing with energy that radiated outward in uncontrolled waves, cracking more stone as I watched, the air shimmering with heat that made the others flinch back.
It was coming from me, this destruction, unleashed in my sleep without intent or warning, the power I'd tapped into spiraling wild now, burning markings into the walls and shattering everything in reach.
I didn't know how it had started, couldn't grasp the trigger or the reins to pull it back, panic flooding me as the surges intensified, the alcove shaking violently, debris falling in larger chunks as screams filled the space.
Xavian lunged closer, dodging a falling shard of rock, his hands clamping onto my arms, yelling again, "Morgan, focus!
It's you—stop it before you bring the whole place down!
" But the power didn't listen, pouring out in hotter waves, the ground buckling under us, cracks widening into fissures that glowed with that same blue fire, the chaos escalating as more people poured in, their voices a cacophony of fear and commands I couldn't process.
Heat built in my core, pressure crushing inward even as it exploded out, the runes on the walls twisting into new, burning patterns that spread like wildfire, shattering stone and sending sparks flying.
The heat intensified, waves rolling off me like an inferno, scorching the air and making the others cough and retreat further, their faces masks of panic as they shouted for reinforcements or tried to drag the injured away.
"Morgan, you have to fight it!" he roared, his voice breaking through the din, close to my ear, laced with a desperation I'd never heard from him, but the words meant nothing because I wasn't fighting; I was drowning in it, the power a flood I couldn't stem, cracking the world apart around us.
Screams multiplied, people fleeing as the walls buckled inward, fissures opening in the floor that swallowed benches and tools, the blue fire leaping from crack to crack like living flames.
Pressure built in my chest, heat coiling tighter until it felt like I would burst, the surges lashing out in wild arcs that shattered more stone, sending shards flying like shrapnel.
Xavian held on, yelling my name over and over, his grip bruising as he tried to pull me from the epicenter, but the chaos only grew, the alcove crumbling in earnest now, total destruction unfolding without mercy or end.
"Morgan, please!" Xavian shouted again. “You need to control it!”
But I couldn't. The power didn't listen, surging wilder with every beat of my heart.
"I don't know how!" I screamed back, my voice breaking over the roar of crumbling stone, tears streaming down my face as the heat built higher, pressure crushing inward until it felt like my ribs would crack from it.
The surges only grew, heat exploding in waves that scorched the air, making the crowd cough and retreat further, their screams a cacophony that drowned in the growing roar.
Nexlin was shouting from the entrance, his staff raised high, channeling something that sparked with counter-energy, a barrier of light trying to contain the destruction, but it fizzled against the blue glow pouring from me, breaking apart like glass under pressure.
"Calm down, girl!" he bellowed, his voice booming over the chaos, laced with urgency and a thread of command that cut through the noise.
"Your panic's feeding it—fear is amplifying the surge!
Breathe, center yourself, or you'll bring the whole cavern down on us! "
His words hit me like a slap, making sense in a distant way, but the panic didn't care, swelling higher as another wave ripped out, buckling the floor and sending cracks racing toward the entrance, people leaping back as stone gave way beneath them.
"I can't!" I screamed, voice raw and breaking, tears blurring my vision as the heat coiled tighter, pressure building until it felt like I would explode from it.
"I don't know what to do—I can't stop panicking!
It's too much, it's everywhere!" The admission tore from me, the fear looping back on itself, making the surges wilder, the alcove shaking violently now, massive chunks falling from the ceiling in a hail that forced Xavian to pull me down, shielding me with his body as debris pelted around us.
He was yelling my name, his grip bruising on my arms, trying to ground me, but the chaos drowned him out, the power pouring unchecked, shattering everything in reach.
The crowd's screams peaked, people fleeing as the walls crumbled inward, fissures opening wide with glowing fury, the blue fire leaping higher, consuming stone and air alike.
I was lost in it, the panic a storm I couldn't escape, the surges feeding on every terrified breath, destruction unfolding without end, burying us all in the rubble of my unintended fury.
And then, without warning, Xavian's elbow came down hard, a sharp whomp against the back of my head that exploded stars across my vision, the world tilting violently as darkness rushed in, swallowing the chaos whole.