Chapter 28 #2
“Holy hells,” Rian breathes, shaking his head. “Do you see this?”
Their awe doesn’t reach me.
I only feel her.
Jarek moves in closer to Thane, bracing himself, both of them pushing back against Thane’s strength.
“Are you insane?” Jarek hisses, digging his heels in, his arms locked tight around Thane’s shoulder. “Look at her! You can’t touch her right now!”
Thane grits his teeth, muscles straining, his eyes locked on me, on the magics, on what’s happening to me. “I don’t care,” he snarls, still trying to push past them, still trying to reach me.
Fear radiates from him. The bond thunders inside me, relentless, a second heartbeat pounding against my ribs. I can feel his panic, his desperation, his fear of losing me.
I can’t give any energy to the bond, to him. I am completely focused on Lyra.
Then I feel it. A pulse that isn’t just magics, isn’t just me. It’s her. Lyra. Her heartbeat, stronger now, steadier. Her breath no longer weak, no longer slipping away. And then—she stirs. A small movement, the slightest shift beneath my hands, but I feel it.
Relief crashes through me—stronger than pain, stronger than breath. A sob tears free—pain, yes. Exhaustion, yes.
But more than anything: Lyra. Alive.
Tears blur my vision, hot and unstoppable, spilling down my cheeks as I cling to her. The magics that had been surging, wild, alive with relentless force slows. The light dissolves. Quiet energy clings to my skin like fog.
The energy that had raged around me, pushing toward the cavern ceiling, now winds back inward, as if it has done what it came to do.
A breath.
A heartbeat.
Lyra.
Alive.
The cavern falls silent.
Jarek and Rian release their hold on Thane. He steps forward—fast, tense—then stops. Close enough to feel, but not touching. His eyes—wide and full of worry—locked on me. His hands hover at his sides, like he wants to reach for me—but doesn’t.
Garrick exhales sharply, dragging a shaking hand across his face. He takes a step forward, then stops, eyes flicking between Lyra’s still form and the place where my magics had just been. His voice is raw. “By the gods!”
Valen lets out a breath, shaking his head, eyes still locked on me with something like awe. “She completely healed her.” His voice is quiet, reverent. “She pulled her back.”
I don’t answer. I can’t. Because Lyra’s chest rises and falls. Because she’s alive. And because my hands are still shaking. The only sound is my breath—uneven. The soft hum of my magics. The rhythm of Lyra’s heart.
Lyra stirs. A twitch of her fingers beneath mine. A small, shallow inhale. Her eyelids flutter. For a long, agonizing moment, nothing happens. Then—her lips part.
A whisper. “Amara . . . ?”
A single, weak word. But it shatters something inside me. A sob breaks loose. Relief—pure and crushing.
I let out a breathless laugh, choking on tears, my fingers gripping hers, grounding myself in the proof that she’s here. That she’s alive.
I smile.
Then the world tilts. Light blurs. The rush of magics draining out of me—gone, all at once.
A dull, faraway voice—Thane, I think, calling my name. Then strong arms wrap around me, catching me before I can fall. I barely register the warmth, the strength, the way my body folds into his.
A distant thought drifts through my mind, hazy but certain.
Thane. He always catches me.
Everything goes black.
I drift. Not in the cavern. Not in my body. Somewhere else.
The pain is gone, but something greater lingers, pressing at the edges of my mind.
I feel weightless, untethered, floating in a space that is neither light nor dark—an endless, shifting current pulling me deeper.
Then, a voice. Soft. Distant. Familiar. Like a whisper I’ve heard before. “You are stronger than you know.”
The words ripple through the void—curling like wind. I try to focus. But the space is fluid. Reality won’t shape itself.
Then, a presence. Not a person, not fully. Just a shape in the mist. A figure, blurred, unfinished.
The presence speaks. A woman’s voice. Steady. Knowing. “You will walk a path others fear. But you are not alone.”
She doesn’t walk—she drifts. And I follow.
She leads me through the shifting, colorless void, but I can’t quite see where we are going. Every time I think I glimpse something ahead, something real, the mist thickens, swallowing it whole.
There is something deeply familiar in the way she moves, the way she leads me forward.
A whisper—softer now, but certain. “You are not ready yet. But you will be.”
My pulse skips. I try to ask—who is she? But the words don’t come.
She moves faster. I chase her, but the space around me distorts. My body drags with every step, like moving through water. Like something is pulling me back.
I push harder, try to close the distance—but the moment I reach for her, the space around us trembles. The flickering light in the distance vanishes.
The presence stops. For the first time, I think she’s looking at me.
And then, in a voice that is both a whisper and a command, a truth woven into my very bones, “Wake up, my child.”
The world shatters. A sudden pull—violent, unstoppable.
The voice echoes, layered over itself. One voice, two voices, merging. “Wake up, my child.” But this time—it is Valen’s voice.
I gasp. Jolt upright.
“Amara!”
His voice tears me from the void, slams me back into my body like a crashing wave.
My lungs drag in air, my chest aching like I’ve been drowning.
Warmth surrounds me—strong, steady, unyielding. Arms. Holding me. Anchoring me. My head is cushioned against something firm, solid, safe.
Then the bond beats quietly in time with my heart, pulling me back from the fading edges of the dream, from the whisper of that woman’s voice.
The bond is here. It anchors me to this world. Anchors me to him.
I blink, the starlit glow of the cavern blurring in and out of focus. My body is sluggish, heavy with exhaustion.
Then, I feel it. A hand wrapped around mine. Warm. Grounding.
Valen.
His grip is gentle but firm, steady as the earth itself. Keeping me here.
I force my gaze up—vision swimming. And there’s Thane.
He looks down at me, his arms still wrapped around my body, his legs beneath my head, supporting me. His eyes are wild, searching, sharp.
He’s holding me, but it’s more than that. I feel him through the bond. His relief, his fear, his silent demand that I stay. That I don’t leave him.
I try to speak, but the words stick in my throat. I’m so tired. Strong arms pull me up, pull me in. I sink into the warmth of Thane—leather, fire smoke, steel.
Home.
His breath shudders against my hair. “Gods, Amara. You’re so fucking reckless.”
I manage a laugh. Weak, breathless. “I like to keep you guessing.”
Thane exhales sharply. “Please stop.” His arms tighten around me, his grip unrelenting, desperate.
I let my eyes drift past his shoulder, searching—and find her.
Lyra.
She’s sitting up now, leaning against the wall. Pale, exhausted—but alive. Garrick is crouched beside her, his hand wrapped around hers, thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.
Lyra’s blue eyes meet mine, bright despite the strain. She smiles faintly, lips parting just enough to whisper a silent thank you.
Tears sting. I press into Thane, gripping him like he’s the only solid thing left.
I shift slightly, my cheek still resting against him as I turn to Valen. “How long was I out?”
“Just a few moments.” His voice is gentle but measured. “Your eyes are bloodshot, your nose is bleeding, and there are purple bruises under your eyes. A little pale. All of this is expected after what you just did, my girl.” He dabs my nose with a tissue from his robes. “Can you stand?”
I inhale slowly, steadying myself. “I think so. Just . . . a little weak.”
“I’ve got you.” Thane doesn’t wait. His arm slips around my waist, strong and steady, bracing me before I can even try. I lean into him, my muscles liquid.
Nearby, Garrick pulls Lyra up, his grip firm but careful. She wobbles slightly, but when her gaze finds mine, she steadies.
Then, without a word, she falls into my arms.
I catch her, holding her tightly, my face buried in her copper-red hair. No quips. No teasing remarks. Just us. Holding each other.
Lyra says nothing. She just holds me. And for the first time since this nightmare began, I let myself breathe.
She pulls back, stepping into Garrick’s waiting arms. Her smirk flickers back to life—faint, but there.
“I hate this. I feel like some delicate damsel in distress.” She leans into Garrick, sighing as if she’s performing on stage. “Carry me dramatically or leave me here.”
And she’s back.
Garrick exhales, the tension draining from his shoulders. I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face.
Lyra exhales, turning to take in the cavern, her blue eyes sharp despite everything. “What is this place?” she asks, her voice hushed, almost reverent.
The tunnels are gone. Replaced by ethereal light. The walls—smooth, polished, impossibly seamless—are a deep, midnight blue, like the sky at its darkest hour. And within them, something sparkles. Not gems. Not ore.
Stars.
And it’s breathtaking.
We’re deep underground. But there’s light—woven into the chamber itself. The glow is subtle, shifting, alive, the stars inside the walls pulse with their own quiet life.
No one speaks at first. Then, Valen steps forward, his gaze sharpening as he studies the surface. His fingers hover just above the markings etched into the stone, his breath slow, measured.
“Shadow Clan,” he murmurs. “It’s difficult to reconcile how a people that were considered to be corrupt and dark could create something so breathtaking.”
No one responds. We are all thinking the same thing.
I step closer, brushing the carvings with my fingers. The same jagged, interlocking symbols from the tunnel. This place belonged to them. The Shadow Clan.
A few steps away, Lyra runs her hands over the walls, fingers tracing the markings with quiet concentration. Garrick stays close, watchful.