58. Wilder
Wilder
“Godsdamn it.” I throw out my hands as a wave of flame seethes through the palemor’s teeth. It flares across the beach, stopping at the line I’ve drawn with my magic.
Aether sears as I hold the barrier. The palemor is too strong.
Callum reaches his arms out at his sides, wrapping the wind in a shell around us, closing us in and weaving his magic through mine to temper the palemor’s flames, which are already fraying the edges.
A palemor is half serpent, half dragon. It’s one of the few creatures that was not born of either of these two realms but found its way here from another place. Staring at the creature ahead, reeking of the Well, I wonder what horrible constellation this beast crawled out of.
Unlike creatures from here, a palemor wields its own magic, similar to Fae. They are able to harness what is within them, which, in the case of a palemor, is breath of hot flame.
The palemor’s wicked eyes turn to red slits as they narrow. It exhales another wave of fire as my magic starts to falter. Apart from the palemor’s incredible strength, something else pulses nearby, distracting my senses.
A static pulse rolls in waves, toying with my magic.
The orb is near.
“There you are, there you are,” it whispers to me, even if the words are likely meant for someone else.
In the Ley Court, the orb affected how my aether could be wielded. Something ancient stirs within the orb, wrestling against a part of me.
“I searched. I promised I would always look for you. There you are. There you are.”
“I’m almost there,” Atlas says, shoving his sword up and snapping me from my thoughts. “Hold the barrier… Steady.”
He stares into the beast’s fiery eyes, homing in on the heat that brews within it. The palemor opens its mouth, and we stand our ground as it empties its belly of flame. Until it is left with nothing more than teeth and claws.
Like us, a palemor’s magic is not endless.
Once the creature lets out a final huff of smoke, its fire magic falters.
The beast can fight with physical force, but it will take time for it to refuel the fire in its belly.
With a breath, icy cold blackness covers the beach, sending a chill up my spine.
The palemor coils, ready to strike. There’s only one thing that can kill it: a searing blade to the heart. Fire against fire.
“Now.” Atlas’s grin somehow lightens the beach.
A single flame licks at his fingertip. It spreads like fire on kindling, illuminating a pillar of light up his blade. The dome of magic protecting us glows, and Atlas is the source at the center.
The moment the palemor’s smoky breath thins, I drop the barrier, and Atlas moves as fast as fire spreads. Wild and untamed. He drives forward hard and fast, having battled these creatures at my side before. He aims for one of its legs, slicing it cleanly through.
Only, one cut is not enough to take a beast like this down, no matter how much it slows it. The palemor rears back, screeching when blood pours from its leg. Its scales drip with tar as Atlas strikes again and again.
The palemor winds tight like a serpent, curling around the east side of the beach.
It surrounds us on three sides with the length of its body.
It keeps its belly low, refusing to expose its heart.
Creatures like this aren’t mindless like some others.
It knows what Atlas has planned and will fight against it until its dying breath.
“Only a strike to the heart will kill it,” I remind Atlas when he drives a flaming blade into its leg.
“It’s insulting that you think I’ve forgotten.” He smirks, striking again.
Atlas, Greer, and Callum hold off the razor-sharp bites of the palemor as it tries to swallow them whole, while Elorie and I bind its legs in magic, tethering the beast back.
The tip of its tail whips back and forth, nearly striking Elorie. I barely reach her and pull her to my chest before the scales strike the sand. When the tail rears back a second time, it doesn’t slice down on us. It makes room for something else churning in the darkness overhead.
“Ravagers,” Elorie whispers as a cloud of darkness overwhelms the night sky. “I’ve never seen that many of them.”
“The state of the Well has made Fae desperate,” I tell her.
With magic faltering, Fae in both realms have become willing to do anything to survive, including stealing magic.
Except the more they drain, the hotter it burns, becoming unsustainable.
They grow dependent on that surge. That rush.
The more they steal, the more they need, turning Fae to ravagers faster than we can combat the problem.
I’ve fought back hordes of ravagers before, but the number flooding the beach is more than I’ve faced in my lifetime.
“Together,” Elorie says in my mind. “We’ll face them together.”
She presses close, and my hand moves down Elorie’s arm, flushing her skin with magic until I’m threading my fingers through hers.
Aether and starlight stir like they did last night.
Only this time, I hold our palms out and focus every drop outward.
A pulse so strong it thumps in my ears. It streams at the dark cloud of ravagers that has yet to take physical form.
Our magic claps against the darkness and forces them into their bodies so we have something to fight.
Elorie looks back over her shoulder at me, worry pinching her eyebrows. She hasn’t forgotten that the last time I did that, I nearly drained all my magic. Except this time, mine is twined with hers, and we tapped into our soul bind.
“I didn’t know I could do that,” she says.
“The things you can do are endless, Starfire.” I place her hand on the dagger at her hip. “Let’s go show them.”
Her smile is so big my heart jumps to my throat. She takes her daggers in her hands, wrapping them in glowing light as she turns toward the ravagers. Her eyes and freckles gleam, as if daring them to dull her shine.
Atlas, Callum, and Greer continue to focus on the palemor, while Elorie and I use magic to draw the ravagers’ attention toward us. A wave of pale skin and white hair floods the beach, tunneling toward us. Their skin has a grayish hue, and their eyes are empty, drained of all color.
The ravagers are practically phantoms, clacking their teeth as they rush forward.
There are too many for us to fight. But Elorie, with her heart of steel, doesn’t back up or run. She holds her ground.
A stench of rotted flesh and putrid breath hangs heavy around them. But right before they reach us, the Gate stirs, and the first wave of Darvel’s army storms the beach.
“Cutting it close,” I grumble as Darvel appears beside me.
“Keeping you guessing, King Riven.” He grins, shoving his blade through the first ravager to reach us.
With the next, Elorie drops low, driving her blade upward, piercing its heart.
I swing in a wide arc, beheading three in one strike.
Hearts and heads are the only way to kill them.
So that’s what Elorie and I do. With blades and magic, we push the ravagers back.
Andare’s warriors fight at our sides, holding the line, keeping them away from where Atlas, Callum, and Greer continue to battle the palemor.
“Why did you wait so long?” I eye Darvel, who fights beside me.
“We didn’t.” His sword drives through two ravagers’ hearts at once. “This is the second wave. I’m guessing the first one didn’t make it?”
I grit my teeth, shaking my head once. If they aren’t here, where did the Arch send them? Could it have spit them out in another part of the realm, like it did when Elorie returned from the Mortal Realm? Or did it send them elsewhere?
“Let’s hope Rior doesn’t have that same trouble,” I say.
If he and Esen can’t get through, then this will all be for nothing.
Elorie gasps, and my heart stops, thinking she’s been struck. I rush to her side, expecting blood or pain. But she’s not hurt. Her eyes are set on the distance, where a group of three ravagers has split off to attack a small village at the far end of the beach.
“They might be dead already,” I warn her.
She meets my gaze. “Or they could be alive with no one to protect them.”
Elorie is running before I have a chance to convince her not to. Ravagers flood from all sides, separating us. I can’t leave the line I’m holding, or the ravagers will start attacking Callum and Atlas, and they’re finally inching closer to the palemor’s heart.
I open a thread, finding my way through to Greer.
“Get out of my head, Wilder,” she huffs out before I can say anything, sensing me at the edge of her thoughts.
While she’s loyal to Elorie, her glare over her shoulder proves how little she’s warmed up to me.
“Elorie needs help. The ravagers split off toward a village in the south.”
Greer’s head snaps that direction, where Elorie’s blue braids whip behind her as she runs.
“Gods, souls, and stars, of course she did,” Greer grumbles, and I chuckle as I pull away, watching Greer tear across the beach toward Elorie.
Between the two of them, they have it covered, so I turn my attention back to the fight in front of me. Only, with each strike, my sword is heavier. With each flick of aether, the sparks dull. In the distance, the orb throbs, toying with my magic.
“They thought I wouldn’t find you,” it whispers. “There you are.”
A chill climbs my spine, shooting pain through the back of my skull. Whatever magic screams through the orb feels like it comes from within me.
Pain rattles my nerves, but I don’t let it pull me to my knees. I grip my blade tighter, slicing. Carving. Soaking this beach in blood as I push forward. There is no time to think or breathe. My arms ache, and my heart thunders in my chest, but I do not falter.
We push the ravagers back, leaving a trail of limbs and bodies behind us.
“Almost there,” Atlas grunts out as he slices off another one of the palemor’s claws when it reaches for him. “I think I can get it—"
Callum clears a path, and Atlas shoves his flame-imbued blade through a set of scales. The moment he does, all three of us step back, knowing he missed the heart. The palemor rears back, not in fear, but a fit of rage. Sweat drips down my neck as the air peaks in an unbearable rush of heat.
“Wilder!” Elorie screams through the thread, and I look in time to see that the palemor’s head isn’t the only thing that is thrashing.
The bottom half of its body has shifted. Its tail coils behind it, ready to snap and decimate everything in its path, including the village.
“We’ve got this,” Atlas assures me, seeing where I’m looking. “Go.”
Callum nods, his face streaked in blood and tar, and I don’t wait; I run.