Chapter 20 #2
“Damn it!” I gasp. A ferocious heat rises in my chest, a storm of wrath and defiance, burning through the pain. This isn’t how it ends. I see them. My village, the flames, my parents—gone before I could stop it. Not again. Not this time.
“I’m not done yet!” I snarl, fire surging through my veins, my fingers curling into fists as if I can force my body to obey.
“But your body is. We will fight another day, Virelya.”
Reality doesn’t slam—it carves. One truth at a time. I’m breaking.
I press a shaking hand against my ribs. Wet. Warm. Too much. My pulse roars, louder than the wind, drowning out thought. Calryx feels my hesitation, the way I finally start to sag against her neck.
“You are my rider.” Her voice softens, but her authority does not. “And I will not let you die here.”
A wraith shrieks behind us, its claws slicing through the air in a final, desperate strike. Calryx doesn’t hesitate. Her tail whips around with lethal precision, the impact snapping bone, crushing shadow. The creature crumples mid-flight, dissolving into nothing.
One more down. But not all of them. Three still remain—circling, watching. Waiting. But my vision blurs at the edges, the world tilting as blood continues to seep from my wound. I hate this. The weakness. The helplessness. All this power and I still have to run.
But if I don’t—Calryx will lose me.
I exhale sharply, my voice raw, bitter. “Fine. Get us out of here.”
Calryx doesn’t warn me. She doesn’t have to.
I feel it. The sharp focus in her mind. The sheer, unwavering intent.
Her wings snap tight against her body—then she dives.
Hard. The wind roars past us, deafening, whipping against my face, tearing at my clothes.
My stomach lurches as we plummet, the world blurring in a rush of motion.
But I don’t fall. Her magics hold me firm, unyielding.
All I can do is brace as the sky hurtles past.
The wraiths shriek in fury, diving after us, their skeletal wings slicing through the air.
But we are faster. The treetops rush up to meet us—too fast, too close—then at the last possible second, Calryx snaps her wings open.
The sudden burst of speed sends us rocketing forward, the force slamming me back against her neck.
The wraiths dive after us, screeching, relentless.
But they’re too slow. Calryx’s speed devours the distance, leaving them as nothing more than fading shadows in the sky.
We are gone. And just before the pain drags me under, before the darkness claims me, regret rises—sharp and suffocating.
I should’ve ended them. Should’ve stayed.
THANE
The clang of steel rings through the training grounds as Rian’s sword crashes against mine, the force of the blow vibrating up my arms.
I parry swiftly, shifting into the attack, forcing him back. Jarek lunges from the side. I twist, dodging his blade by inches, then slam my forearm into his ribs, sending him stumbling.
Jarek curses. “You hit like a damn warhammer, Caelum.”
“Then block better,” I snap, my grip tightening on my sword as Rian circles again.
Sparring has been relentless today—not because I need the training, but because I need the distraction. If I’m not fighting, not moving, my mind keeps circling back to things I shouldn’t be thinking about.
To her.
To the way her body arched into mine, the sounds she made when she came apart beneath me. To the way her magics surged when she came.
Raw. Electric. Wrapping around us like they were their own being.
I should be thinking about the uptick in raids at Lord Toren’s Hale’s region; or the recent news the Spymaster shared with Rowena.
Instead, all I can think about is how she gasped when I moved inside her. The way she pressed her forehead to mine when she was too overwhelmed to speak. The way she felt—soft, strong, burning, everything.
When I showed up for sparring with my brothers, they knew instantly. Jarek whooped and clapped me on the back, telling me it’s about godsdamn time.
Rian just braced my neck with his massive hand, pulled me close, and rested his brow on mine for a moment. This is what Water Clan do when they acknowledge your good fortune.
When he pulled back and looked at me, Jarek still grinning beside him, I couldn’t stop the smile spreading across my face.
She’s mine. And I am hers.
I grind my teeth, pushing the thoughts away, refocusing on Rian as he lunges.
Strike. Parry. Counter. Move.
“Alright then,” Rian mutters, rolling his shoulders before giving me a lazy smirk. “Let’s see if that arrogance holds up when you’re actually outnumbered.”
I smirk right back. “I dare you.”
Rian lunges first, his sword a flash of motion, but I’m already moving.
Parry. Redirect. Counter.
Jarek comes in from the side, trying to get past my guard. I twist at the last second, bringing my sword up to deflect his strike with brutal efficiency.
“Are we even trying to land a hit?” Jarek grumbles, barely dodging my counterattack.
“You’re trying. You’re just failing.”
Rian snorts, circling me. “One of these days, someone’s going to knock you flat on your ass.”
“You think it’ll be you?”
Jarek barks a laugh. “Gods, he’s an arrogant asshole.”
I grin. “You love it.”
Jarek and Rian exchange a glance. And then they both attack at once.
I let instinct take over.
Rian swings high—I duck, using his momentum against him to twist and send his blade wide.
Jarek takes advantage, coming in hard, aiming for my ribs. I catch his strike at the last second. Hold it. Push back.
Blades locked. Muscles straining. Neither of us yielding.
“That’s the best you’ve got today?” I grunt, forcing him back another step.
Jarek grits his teeth. “Not even close.”
He shoves against me, and I let him—just enough to let him think he’s gaining ground before I slam my weight forward, breaking his stance.
Rian drives in from behind, fast. I drop low, avoiding his strike at the last second, and sweep my leg under him, knocking him off balance.
Jarek curses. “Son of a—”
Rian hits the dirt hard.
I straighten, blade at the ready, grinning down at them. “You were saying?”
Rian groans, glaring at me. “You know, if I ever get the chance to punch you in the face, I’m taking it.”
“That’s fair,” I allow.
They’ll try again tomorrow. They always do.
Jarek snorts. “Still an ass.”
I give him a lazy shrug, resetting my stance. “Another round?”
Jarek sighs, picking up his sword. “Why do I let you talk me into this?”
“Because you can’t resist a challenge.”
“No, because he’s a smug bastard and we both keep thinking we can wipe that look off his face,” Rian mutters, rolling his shoulders.
Jarek shifts his grip. “Again, then.” He jerks his chin towards Rian, eyes narrowed. “And this time, try not to fall on your ass.”
I huff a laugh. “We’ll see.”
They attack at the same time and I meet them head-on. Jarek lunges—I block his blade mid-swing with mine, bracing against the impact.
And then it hits me.
Like fire igniting through my veins. I feel like I’m being ripped open from the inside.
Pain. Searing. Deep.
Wrong.
But Jarek and Rian’s blades haven’t touched me.
My vision fractures and the sparring ring tilts. A sharp, foreign, breathless agony burns through my side—deep, wet, raw.
Not mine.
Wait—
Hers.
I barely register the sound of Rian shouting before my knees buckle. The world lurches, spinning violently, and I hit the dirt, my sword slipping from my grasp.
“THANE!”
Someone grabs my arm, shaking me, their voice distant, like it’s coming through water.
My vision blurs, darkens, then snaps into something else entirely—a sky full of shadows, a battle raging midair. And blood.
Her blood. Her pain.
Amara.
My breath vanishes as my chest seizes.
I don’t just see it. I feel it.
Feel the fire in her veins, the pain tearing through her body, the raw, sharp edge of exhaustion pressing in. Feel the moment she realizes she’s losing too much blood; the fury in her gut—the refusal to go down like this.
It’s not just a vision. It’s real.
I can feel her.
“No. No, no, no—”
A deep, primal terror slams into me. I try to move. Try to push up. Stand. Run.
But I can’t.
Jarek is in front of me now, gripping my shoulders, shaking me hard. “Thane, what the bloody hell is happening?!”
I can’t speak. Can’t explain. There are no words for this. No reason why Amara’s pain is ripping through me like it’s mine. It’s impossible. It shouldn’t be happening.
And yet—it is.
And I don’t understand any of it.
Jarek and Rian are still staring, eyes wide, weapons forgotten. I shake my head, forcing air into my lungs, trying to focus, trying to push past the fire still burning through me.
I suck in a shuddering breath, blinking against the dark spots flooding my vision. My hands curl into fists against the dirt, shaking, furious, terrified.
She’s alive, but hurt. Badly.
And I—I FEEL IT.
Then—Xaroth’s voice slams into my mind like a battering ram.
“Mor’kaar! She is hurt! Calryx is on her way.”
His words confirm what I already know. Fear squeezes its hand around my heart.
“I’m on my way, Xaroth. How far out?”
“Minutes. But you need to move quickly! She is bleeding out!”
Gods.
I shove myself up, every breath a battle, every movement like fire. My hand fumbles for my sword—I slam it into its sheath with shaking fingers.
“I have to go.”
Jarek steps in front of me, blocking my path. “Go where? You can barely stand—”
I level him with a glare, my voice sharp. “I don’t have time to explain! She’s dying! Move!”
He hesitates for half a second—then steps aside. I don’t waste another breath—I turn and sprint towards the Landing Grounds.
Because whether I understand this or not, Amara needs me.
AMARA
By the time Calryx lands at the outpost, the sky is streaked with fire and gold. My vision swims, edges darkening—I barely feel the jolt of impact as her massive body settles onto the landing grounds.