Chapter 6 Draven
Draven
How many times had Nevara Seen my death? Yet I had never once pictured hers.
My oldest friend had always been this untouchable presence. A source of strength and power. Blessed by the Shard Mother herself…
But here I was, standing over her as she bled out onto the snow. Just as mortal, just as fragile, as every other shards-damned fae here.
Ice and snow swirled around me in violent arcs, the wind howling as it ripped through the battlefield, growing stronger with every rapid heartbeat.
Was this what it meant to be chosen? To be used and discarded? Was the Shard Mother’s will so hollow that she would allow her Visionary to just die in the snow like this? So unworthy of her divine intervention?
No.
The word tore loose from me in a snarl as I stepped over Nevara and Redthorne, my power surging up instinctively. A shield of ice slammed into place around us just as the Autumn emissary gathered her closer, cradling her to his chest while the storm bent to my will.
Black venom welled up from where the stinger had driven through Nevara’s ribs. It hissed and sizzled as it ate away at the fabric of her tunic and burned through her pale skin.
Bile curdled in my throat, and for a single, shards-damned moment, everything else fell away.
We were in the eye of the storm. The wind was raging everywhere but in this single, fixed moment while my thoughts raced in panicked laps. The monster’s endless screams dissipated into nothingness, and the explosions of mana and cries of battle sounded much farther away than they should have.
Ice crept along the edges of my vision and laced down my skin until my limbs felt as heavy and unyielding as the glaciers crowning the mountains.
Bare seconds had passed since Nevara had fallen, yet the sight of her gasping in the snow made time feel warped and unreal.
I forced a slow, furious breath as I watched my best friend—my sister—drag in sharp, wheezing gulps of air.
White-hot flame poured from Redthorne’s fingertips as he burned away her ruined clothes and drove fire into her wounds.
Nevara’s eyes flew open. She screamed, her body arching as pain tore through her.
“What the hells are you doing?” I demanded, blades of ice bursting free from my fists as instinct drove me to end him before he could do more damage.
A wall of fire appeared between us, each flame licking hotter than the last.
“I’m trying to save her!” he snapped. The inferno intensified with each word. “And if you stop me now and she—she dies…”
Embers burned in his molten gaze. “Don’t make me your enemy, Draven.”
“Stop—” The word was a strained sort of wheeze as it slipped past Nevara’s lips.
It was enough to shock me back into the moment. Enough to make me register the panic in Redthorne’s tone and the desperation fueling each of his movements. Pieces of a puzzle began to slip into place, forming a picture I hadn’t quite realized was there before.
My gaze slid back to Nevara’s pained features. Her grip was firm on his cloak as she pulled herself closer. Then, pinching her eyes shut, she gave a small jerk of her chin. Permission to continue, I realized.
Redthorne’s flames were precise, like a surgeon's tools, as they chased the venom eating through her skin. The inky venom hissed as the fire burned it away, cauterizing the wounds as it went.
She ground her teeth, a pained cry slipping from her throat.
“Dammit, Nevara,” I cursed, throwing up a wall of mana to block a boulder from slamming into us. It crashed against the icy shield like a crack of thunder before falling uselessly to the ground.
“You should never have been here,” I growled.
Not in this, or any battle for that matter.
Lady Noerwyn’s form appeared at the edge of the battlefield. Good. She was back and could take my damned Visionary to the healer next.
“You promised not to lock me in that tower,” Nevara rasped, the words stabbing at an all too familiar wound. “But don’t worry; I won’t die before we end this war.”
The cough that escaped her was wet, small droplets of blood spraying past her lips.
I cursed again.
“Did you See that?” I hissed, and the corner of her lips twitched upward.
But then the smirk was gone. Nevara’s grip slipped from Redthorne’s cloak, her body going completely limp and her eyelids fluttering closed.
Lady Noerwyn was at our side a moment later, her bronze cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. White curls were matted with blood, her blue eyes fixed on Nevara’s slack form.
She didn’t ask or wait to be told; instead, she used her mana to gently lift Nevara from the emissary’s grasp to carry her away to the safety of the palace infirmary.
Another tremor shook the ground, the Korythid’s screams rattling my bones as it slammed its body against my icy shield.
Redthorne glanced between Noerwyn’s retreating form and the Elderborne monster, cursing under his breath before he took several steps forward.
Pale flames engulfed his fists, the heat emanating from his body melting every last drop of snow that covered the ground around him, even causing condensation to form along the icy walls I’d thrown up around us.
Good. I needed that anger.
I needed someone’s rage to match my own, for once.
The Korythid reared back to slam against the shield again, but this time, I was more than ready.
I was eager to be done with the frostbeast once and for all.