Chapter 30
Jon
Icouldn’t stomach much more of this.
Every agonized cry that wove between Sylvia’s repeated verses cut like a knife. I thought I had been prepared to witness Sylvia struggle through this, but my mind and body revolted—the visceral, primal reaction I always had when she was in pain.
Her body was wrapped in a blinding light, preventing me from seeing what was hurting her so badly, much less if the spell was working. I exhaled shakily as I tried to squint into the luminance to make out something, anything.
Sylvia’s voice carried through it all, slightly distorted as though the gem magic was choking right around her vocal cords. Her next chant was little more than a whimper, and it sent a jolt through me, pushing my legs into motion before I could stop myself.
A hand seized my arm, wrenching me back in a crushing grip.
“If you interfere, you’ll make it worse,” Cliff hissed.
He didn’t release me until my ferocious expression crumpled. I stepped back, hands fisting restlessly. Tension lined Cliff’s expression when he looked back at Sylvia, his gaze wide and soulful like he, too, was wrestling himself back.
She could do this. She was the strongest person I’d ever known. Stronger than me. She would survive this, because I needed her to. How was I supposed to go on without her when our lives together had barely begun?
A rattling sound set off throughout the room.
The polished wood floor was vibrating beneath us, and unanchored furniture and objects around the room began to suffer for it.
Three books fell from the five-tiered shelves to our left.
The vanity mirror attached to the dresser began to knock against the wall.
A framed art print wobbled right off its nail, smashing glass-first onto the floor.
I could taste the magic strengthening in the air: a sharp, sour flavor that washed over my tongue.
The spellwork exploded.
A shockwave of sheer force rippled through the room with Sylvia at the epicenter. The air itself seemed to splinter for a moment as we were thrown back. Cliff and I grunted, both of us slamming into the wall. My shoulder caught the window, eliciting a crack as the glass fractured.
Tristan was on hands and knees, crawling toward Melanie, who was stirring weakly next to Hazel on the floor.
Lee clasped a hand to a welt on his forehead, his hair knocked from its usual style.
Ben had managed to stay in the air, but was groaning with the effort of reorienting himself.
Delilah was the only one who’d managed to stay upright.
Through the haze of the glow, growing ever brighter, I saw her clinging to the bedframe with both hands.
A faint ringing hit my ears, painfully stringent.
I groaned through my teeth, shielding my eyes with my arm as the glow around Sylvia seemed to swallow the entire room.
It was like watching a star explode. Through it all, she continued to chant obediently after Delilah, both of their voices growing ragged from effort.
Another rush of power rippled out, and this time, the windows blew out from the force.
A shard caught my cheek, sending a line of blood dribbling down my jaw.
Then, something shifted. Like a blown lightbulb, the illumination suddenly ebbed back into its source.
Silence choked the room. Much as Sylvia’s agony had been like a blade in my chest, the absence of her voice was even worse.
Breathing heavily and half-expecting another burst of magic, I lowered my arm from my face and looked toward the rune circle at the center of the room.
Fair, freckled arms were prone over the white silk. A mop of tousled red hair was splayed over the floor, several locks obscuring her face. She appeared to be unconscious, curled on her side with lips parted.
And human.
She looked completely, utterly human.
“Sylvia!” Her name tore from my throat like a guttural plea.
My lungs nearly seized when I made it to her side and scooped her into my arms. Warm, solid, real. A shaky, almost manic laugh of relief escaped me as I brushed hair off her face so I could take her in, careful to protect her modesty beneath the sheet as I cradled her.
Cliff knelt beside me, slack-jawed but urgent. He gingerly reached out and put two fingers to her neck, confirming a pulse while Lee, Tristan, and the others crowded around. The fairies hovered overhead, wings thrumming indistinctly.
Sylvia was unconscious, but alive and breathing evenly.
Her head lolled against my chest, eliciting another jolt at the sensation that made my heart skip a beat.
Even human, there was something ethereal and sacred about her.
Her expression was unknit and peaceful as though the agony she had endured for this moment was already far away.
The urge to wrap myself around her to protect her from the world hadn’t diminished in the slightest.
Tears swam in my vision, helpless to stop the smile breaking over my face.
After all this time, after wondering if I’d have to someday let her go…
All our efforts had not been in vain.
“You did it,” I whispered, brushing my lips to her temple. “You fucking did it, Sylv.”
I gently pried the ruby from her hand and tucked it into my jacket pocket for safekeeping.
After a hushed conversation with Melanie and Hazel to ensure they hadn’t sustained injuries, Tristan crouched across from me. He carefully plucked the edge of the sheet between a finger and a thumb, revealing a portion of Sylvia’s back.
“Her wings,” he said, voice thick with emotion. His eyes shone with unshed tears as he glanced over his shoulder at Delilah. “They didn’t come off.”
“Told you I’m the best,” Delilah drawled. Her head rested against Lee’s shoulder wearily. She had her arms loosely slung around him where he stood at the side of the bed, his arm around her and petting slow circles on her arm.
I leaned forward with Cliff to see for ourselves.
Instead of detaching the way her father’s had, Sylvia’s wings appeared to have withdrawn back into her.
Where the opalescent, insect-like appendages had once been rooted at her back, there was only smooth, marble-like skin that vanished under the sheet—interrupted by dark blue runes.
The elegant lines interlaced and overlapped in a language I couldn’t make out, forming the abstract shape of wings over her skin.
Cliff locked eyes with Delilah, struggling for words for a moment. “Thank you,” he finally managed to say.
Delilah smiled, offering a nod. The debt between us was cleared now—doubly so, if I counted the spellbooks she would be letting me take upon our departure.
Everyone stilled when Sylvia made a soft sound in her sleep, brows furrowing before her expression evened out again.
“Is she still in pain?” Cliff asked, frowning at Tristan.
Sylvia’s father shook his head. Melanie landed on his shoulder, with Hazel hovering just behind, her hands clasped over her mouth.
“No, the spell is finished. If her experience is anything like mine was, she’ll wake up in a few hours, I’d wager,” he said, his voice thready with the memory. “Likely sore out of her mind and starving for a good meal, but… She looks alright.”
“Thank the stars,” Melanie choked out. Her knees looked weak, like she might wobble right off her feet. “Our baby survived. Oh, my heart…”
Tristan turned his head to give a soft murmur, offering his hand in comfort. For the first time I’d seen since their arrival, she leaned into him readily.
“Goddamn, she’s made of something else,” Cliff muttered with a fond smile.
“Not that we didn’t get a whiff of that from the fucking start.
” He flashed a grin at me, one I easily mirrored despite the uncertainty threading my joy.
When Sylvia awoke, everything was going to change, day by day. Hunting with Cliff, traveling with him…
But that could wait. For now, we could simply be together.
I adjusted my grasp on Sylvia, tucking the sheets securely around her before standing to move her to the bed.
She deserved every second of rest that her exhausted mind would allow her.
I lay her across the mattress gently and sat beside her.
As I wove my hand into hers, I stared in wonder at how our fingers fit together.
Until now, I’d only been able to hold her like this in the spectral plane, our private sanctuary that had been quietly eating away at my fucking brain. This was real. I could feel her.
Ben hovered over the nightstand, watching Sylvia’s face with a smile that verged on a grimace. I caught it in his eyes when he glanced my way—it was me who was the issue. He still didn’t fully trust me, and this protective instinct for Sylvia was at odds with supporting her.
When he looked my way, I offered him a half-smile, lowering my chin in understanding. I’ll prove myself to you, if you care enough to see.
“Tristan’s right,” Delilah said. “Intensive spellwork like this takes a toll on the mind. It’s going to be a while before Sylvia wakes up. We can leave her to rest.”
I shook my head, brushing my thumb over the back of Sylvia’s hand. “I want to be here when she wakes up.”
With suddenness that made me flinch, Ben’s tentative smile dropped clean away. Like a bloodhound catching a scent, his head snapped toward the windows, now yawning with jagged edges from the blown glass. A cool breeze swept through the room, sending his dark blond hair around his face.
“What’s wrong?” Lee asked, starting for him as though to offer comfort.
Ben frowned, distractedly flying right past him. “Something’s not right. I can feel something outside. It feels… twisted. Not fae. Not like anything I’ve felt before.”
He was halfway across the room when an explosion rattled the foundation of the first floor beneath us.