Chapter 26 Will Not
Will Not
When he reached her, she was still as stone. Astenos walked at a measured pace that was unnatural and strange. Resh called her name. She did not respond. He rode closer, but both Auryn and his horse acted as though he wasn’t there. He lifted his hands to his mouth and signaled the steed to stop.
Astenos obeyed.
Auryn dismounted with a grace he hadn’t seen her show in days. Then—without a single look behind her—kept walking. Through the mud, undaunted. Moving as though the knee-deep filth didn’t touch her as she passed.
Resh stumbled to her through the swampland. Kept moving, his thoughts running empty. Until he finally caught up. Touched her shoulder. Whirled her around.
His heart leapt into his throat.
Because the girl in front of him wasn’t his Auryn.
Something other looked back at him through her familiar silver eyes.
“Silari,” her voice whispered, and behind it echoed a thousand more. “My poor, foolish Bonded. Lost to time with no memory of your true shape. Lost to a cause even you do not believe in. And now, lost to a love you are doomed never to fulfill.”
“Auryn,” Resh rasped, his voice tight. “Auryn, come back to me.”
“I am here. In front of you. And you should kneel.”
“What are you?” he demanded, his runes flaring to life, responding to his rising anger. “Are you the thing burning her alive?”
“I am myself. And because of you, I am dying.”
“Give her back to me,” he demanded.
The creature tilted its head.
“I have watched. And I have decided. I no longer need my Bonded. I will tend to my garden as I must. Alone. And you? It seems you have enough to shoulder without tending to a broken thing.”
“Auryn,” Resh—no, Kailorien—called. “Come back to me. Please.”
When she stood still and silent, Kailorien pulled her into his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed against her rain-soaked silver hair. “I was angry. At myself. At everything. You are not a burden. Please, come back.”
Her body shivered.
A voice whispered in his ear—we will both regret this.
He didn’t look down.
Didn’t have the courage.
He simply stood still, hoping.
“Kailorien,” her voice murmured, muffled by the rain. “I’m cold.”
He didn’t know whether he was going to break out laughing or if the burning behind his eyes was an indication of some kind of growing madness—one unique to her and the way only she had agency to rummage in his soul.
His knees gave and he sat with her folded in his arms. Right in the mud, the filth. He couldn’t feel any of it. She was shivering, and he wasn’t far behind, though for a different reason altogether.
The rain pelted down without mercy, as though Elendria itself was furious that he’d taken something from it. Taken her. After what he’d just witnessed, he could deny it no longer. Auryn wasn’t meant to be caged.
Not in his arms.
Not in Krystopolis.
Not anywhere.
“Why d-did you…come after m-me?” she asked, her body shaking.
He would have wrapped her in his cloak, but he was just as soaked and freezing as she was.
“I don’t know. I just—” his arms tightened around her.
Stay with me.
Stay with me.
Please, just stay.
He bit the inside of his lip, tasting blood.
She shifted, and without saying another word, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed his head against her chest. Her heartbeat murmured against his ear. Fast. Chaotic. Like a bird fluttering and fighting to escape a cage. Her fingers stroked through his wet hair, fingernails grazing his scalp.
Her voice was reedy, trembling—
“If your t-thoughts are like my heart n-now, then I understand.”
A breath was ripped from him.
Violently.
Something between pain, relief, and frustration. He nuzzled into her fading warmth and pressed a kiss to the pulse point at her collarbone.
They stayed that way until the skies stopped weeping, and when her breaths evened out and she fell asleep—still cradling his head—he looked to the clouds and prayed for the first time in nearly twelve hundred years.
Not to the Destroyer.
To her.
His starlight.
When Kailorien returned to camp that night riding Astenos with a sleeping Auryn seated in front of him, his men were quiet. Subdued. None had seen what happened, but they’d felt it.
The blast from Auryn’s powers had leveled the grasslands, splintered trees, uprooted ancient stone. The wagons in the camp had taken some damage—overturned, supplies scattered like entrails. A few Reskala had tied ropes to them, working together to pull them back upright.
The Reskala looked at the girl in his arms not with fear but with awe.
Something far more dangerous. Kailorien dismounted and left Astenos and the other horse with one of his men.
Without a single word, he made his way to the Commander’s tent.
Some of the Reskala made to approach. Thessia hovered at a distance, her violet eyes questioning, her stance rigid and controlled.
He acknowledged none of them.
Only one voice dared to cut the air.
“Resh.”
Zarrek, waiting by the Commander’s tent, arms crossed, golden eyes unreadable. He’d likely been watching the ridgeline for a while.
Kailorien didn’t stop.
“She all right?” Zarrek asked, voice low.
“She’s cold,” Kailorien replied, not breaking stride.
It was all he said.
All he could say in that moment.
Zarrek followed him to the tent without pushing further.
Inside, the hearth had gone out. The furs were still tossed from the night before. He removed her satchel from his shoulder and set it on the table.
Kailorien stood in the center of the life he’d built with her over just a few short months and ground his teeth so hard they hurt. He laid her down on his cot, placing his hand over her chest.
Her heart beat steadily.
Still with him.
“You need anything?” Zarrek asked, not missing a single thing.
“No.”
The word was soft. Final.
“She just needs warmth. Time.”
Zarrek sighed. “I asked if you needed anything.”
A beat passed. Then Kailorien spoke, so quiet it was almost a breath. “Zar, I can’t take her to Krystopolis.”
The warrior ran his hand over his bald head. “You sent the hawks to Maradryn. Response should be coming soon.”
“I can’t go with her. If I do, I’ll never return to the city.”
“Thought you already knew that. Kind of figured you planned on it.”
“I just…didn’t think…” He stopped there, trailing off. Not trusting his voice to stay steady.
That’s a lie.
I knew, didn’t I?
Knew all along that she was just a fever dream.
Something a monster like me had no right to touch.
No right to cling to.
Zarrek took a breath and let it out in a whoosh. He crossed to Kailorien’s side and slapped a hand to his shoulder.
“Resh, there’s nothing I can tell you, brother. I can’t pick your path for you. Either you send her off or you keep her with you.” He paused, and his next words were cold, lifeless. “Either way, you’re going to lose something. So, what’s it going to be?”
Kailorien turned to glare at his Second.
“And I have to accept that?”
Zarrek’s eyes widened.
Kailorien didn’t break eye contact as his voice lowered. With each word, he heard the divine voice in Auryn’s silver eyes echoing behind it. Like a prophecy. Like blasphemy against everything he was.
“Why?” Kailorien ground out.
“After everything I’ve given…” With no memory of your true shape…
“After all the scars I’ve collected…” To a cause even you do not believe in…
“Is someone going to tell me to back down? To abandon this without even trying?” A love you are doomed never to fulfill…
His hands clenched into fists. He stood, his spine straight, the runes on his chest, back, and arms flaring to life.
Not blue.
Not red.
Hotter.
White.
Like her magic.
Like her starlight.
“I will not.”
Zarrek straightened. He looked deep into Kailorien’s eyes, so deep Kailorien saw the light of the Reskala runes carved into the warrior’s being. They’d fought side by side for decades. Zarrek knew his Commander better than Kailorien knew himself at times.
At last, Zarrek’s arms fell to his sides. The grizzled warrior reached out his hand. “Then I won’t, either.”
Kailorien gripped his forearm with firm strength, and Zarrek returned the hold in kind. The warrior’s clasp—firm, braced, knotted with years of shared hardship—spoke more than words could.
And then, wordless as ever, Zarrek pulled him into a short, sharp embrace. A warrior’s bond. Fierce. Brief. Final.
No more needed to be said.