CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Stay behind me,” Talon growled.
He stepped forward, and the ink on his throat flared a vibrant blue. From his tattoos, the spirits erupted—not as ribbons of light this time, but as suffocating plumes of smoke.
They surged past Keeper Sora like a tide, reaching for the glowing alarms in the rafters. I watched, breathless, as the shadows formed a band around the first bulbous housing, tightening until the brass shattered.
As they worked, Talon sent a fresh wave of smoke toward Keeper Sora. She tried to cry out, her hand reaching for the alarm plate, but the spirits were faster. They wound around her throat and mouth, blocking her breath.
Her eyes fluttered and her knees buckled. She slumped against the stone, her head lolling in a deep slumber just as the spirits crushed the final alarm bulb.
The chamber plunged into an oppressive silence, broken only by the thunder of boots. Archive guards rounded the corner, their silver breastplates catching the flickering lamplight as they leveled their halberds.
“Subdue them!”
With a flick of Talon’s wrist, the spirits in the rafters dived, soaring through the room to form a shimmering, translucent shield between the steel and my chest.
“Go, little flame.”
“What?” I shrieked. “I am not leaving you.”
“I will be okay,” he said calmly. “I need you safe.”
He did not look at me. His gaze was pinned on the guards who had frozen, staring warily at the wispy spirits heaving in front of them.
I darted toward the oak doors, the dark shield mimicking my every move. I slipped behind a row of towering shelves, the scent of old leather and dust filling my nose as I shuffled toward the end closest to the wall.
I was closer to Keeper Sora’s body here. I could see she was still breathing, but her limbs were entirely limp. It was the first and only time I had ever seen her in such a slumber.
Talon’s roar pulled my attention from the unconscious Keeper, my spine straightening as I peered through the gaps in the mahogany shelves.
A guard had a forearm locked around Talon’s throat, while another pressed the tip of a blade against his sternum. His spirits were a blur of motion, desperately keeping three other soldiers occupied, and it was only then that I noticed the bodies already littering the stone floor.
I slapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp, my mind racing for a way to tip the scales.
I did not have a blade, but my fingers found the spine of a heavy, iron-bound tome on the bottom shelf.
I hefted the massive volume, the weight of it straining my muscles as I moved in a low crouch around the edge of the bookcase.
The lead guard was shouting something, his mouth moving in a snarl, but I could not hear his words over the frantic pounding of my own blood in my ears.
I shuffled behind a desk, and shouted, “Hey!”
The guard with his sword extended began to turn, his brows furrowing as he caught my movement in the periphery, but he did not have enough time to center his aim. The book flew from my hands, cutting through the air, before it slammed into the bridge of his nose.
He cried out, his weapon clanging to the stone floor in a spray of sparks. The guard pinning Talon dived for the fallen blade, but Talon twisted, picking his entire body weight up and slamming him into the still-startled guard in front of him.
They collided with a sickening thud, landing in a tangled heap of plate armor and groans.
“Little flame,” Talon called out. “I am going to separate the bars enough for you to squeeze through. Get to the lowest window.”
I nodded and scrambled into Sora’s private study, heading for the narrow archway near the floor. The spirits followed, squealing as they jammed themselves into the gaps of the iron bars.
I watched as they expanded, the metal groaning and bending outward until the opening was wide enough for me to pass. I forced the lever up, the glass swinging wide.
“So this is how you have been entering my chambers,” I muttered, looking back at him as he reached the threshold.
Talon smirked as he delivered a playful slap to my bottom. I gasped, my face heating as I pinned him with a glare that lacked any real sting.
“Get moving, little flame.”
I grumbled but before I could move, one of the fallen guards let out a low groan behind us.
Peeking over my shoulder, I saw a flash of silver moving next to a fallen bookcase, but before the soldier could even find his footing, Talon flicked his wrist. A single, needle-thin wisp of inky shadow shot through the air, striking the man square in the center of his forehead.
He let out a choked squeal before his eyes rolled back, his body collapsing into a heap once more.
“Show off,” I muttered, lifting a leg over the windowsill.
Talon huffed a laugh. He wrapped his hands around my thigh, his grip firm and steady as he boosted me upward.
I did not look back as I scrambled through the warped iron bars, my skin grazing the cold metal.
I dropped to the damp grass outside, the silence of the Archive grounds a jarring shift from the chaos of the hall.
A moment later, the shadows within the room surged, and Talon followed, flowing through the gap with a predatory ease that made my own movements feel clumsy in comparison.
He landed beside me, his silhouette cutting a jagged line against the moonlight. He did not speak, but his hand found mine, his fingers locking with mine as he pulled me toward the cover of the ancient trees.
“Talon, where are we going?”
He looked over his shoulder, continuing to tug me further away from the stone silhouette of the Archives. “We need to hide.”
I tore my arm from his grasp and stopped walking, the damp grass soaking into the soles of my feet. “Where?”
His eyes darted behind me, his face pleading. “Come on, love, we cannot stand here and argue.”
I bit down on my bottom lip, taking a single step toward him. “Will I ever see my family again?”
Talon remained silent, and it was enough of an answer.
“No.” I shook my head. “I cannot go anywhere. I do not even know if Hera is alive. And I cannot have my family believing I have become a wandering soul.”
My eyes begun to sting at the thought of her lying dead on the floor of her bathroom. One subconscious act may have been enough to drain the life from her.
Talon stepped forward his hand resting against my cheek.
“She is alive,” he assured me.
“How do you know?” I croaked.
His thumb gently caught a stray tear, smearing it across my cheekbone. “Because it is my duty to keep an eye on all unbounds.”
I sniffled, looking up at him through the blur of my vision. “Someone is watching her?”
“Someone is watching her,” he confirmed. “We will send medicine over, but right now, we must move.”
“Okay,” I managed, my voice small. “Can we pass by my home on the way?”
Talon sighed, but before he could reject the idea, I quickly added, “It will be quick. I promise.”
His hand caressed my jaw, his thumb tracing the line of my skin. “Okay, but we must not linger. They will be expecting you to return home, so let us try and beat them there.”
I nodded and with a firm tug, he pulled me from the shelter of the ancient trees and back toward the edge of the Archive grounds.
We made our way through the silent, winding streets, the moonlight casting long, distorted shadows against the cobblestones.
There was nothing but the whistle of the wind through the eaves and the frantic cadence of our footsteps to accompany us.
I clutched Talon’s coat around my shoulders, a shiver racking my body.
As we turned the final corner toward the familiar silhouette of my home, the crisp, night air was suddenly choked by the acrid scent of burning pitch and wood smoke—a smell that did not belong to a quiet neighborhood at midnight.
Talon’s hand tightened around mine, his stride halting as he pulled me back into the shadows of a stone archway.
“What is it?”
He did not answer. He stepped in front of me, his broad shoulders creating a wall between my gaze and the street.
“Talon,” I hissed in a whisper, but he ignored me, his eyes remaining pinned ahead.
I leaned out just enough to glance past the curve of his arm, and my breath faltered.
Figures stood across the yard of my home in the silver and red armor of the High Court, their torches burning with a steady firelight. At their center stood a woman cloaked in sigil-stitched fabric, ancient symbols glowing faintly across her sleeves.
“A witch,” I whispered. “They said the line was extinguished.”
“They lie often,” Talon murmured.
Before either of us could move, the woman raised her hands. Green stardust burst outward like a cloud of poisoned light, seeping through the open windows of my home. It crawled across the ceilings and down the walls like a living thing.
Through the glass, I saw my mother stiffen and slump against the kitchen table. My father reached for her, his limbs jerking before he too collapsed.
Lyra and Theron ran for them, their bodies abruptly extending before they sank to the floor in a heap of unnatural stillness.
“No!” I screamed.
I wrenched free of Talon’s hold, and I did not think, I simply surged forward, the grass tearing beneath my feet as terror overrode every instinct of self-preservation.
“Kaelia!” Talon’s shout was a roar behind me, but the witch had already turned.
Her head tilted with a bird-like curiosity, and the earth answered her. The soil beneath me shuddered—a subtle tremor that barely registered before it split open with a sickening crack. The scent of torn earth and rot burst upward, and something dark and barbed shot from the rupture.
I did not have time to move. A vine struck my waist like a whip, knocking the air from my lungs and wrapping tight in the same instant.
Thorns punched through fabric and into flesh, sharp and merciless.
Before I could claw at the constriction, another length of twisting green snapped upward to coil around my throat.