Chapter 19 #2
The second Fane’s grip faltered, Rell seized his arm and used the momentum to launch himself upward. His boots found Fane’s chest, and he kicked off with brutal force, snapping the bounty hunter’s head back with the impact.
Fane stumbled, grunting as his balance gave way, while Rell flipped backward in midair, landing lightly on his feet with the grace of someone who’d made a habit of doing the impossible.
Elora gaped for half a second. Damn. Even mid-chaos, it was hard not to admire the fluidity in his movement—controlled, efficient, and lethal. He made it look effortless.
But Fane was far from finished.
Snarling, the brute grabbed a vial from his belt and hurled it at the ground between them. It exploded on impact, splattering a thick, viscous black goo that surged outward in all directions.
Elora dove left. Rell rolled right. The barn floor vanished beneath the slick trap.
Elora scrambled upright, her boots slipping as she fought for traction. Her claws clicked against the boards and then pain shot through her.
The crackling coil caught her ankle.
Her scream tore from her throat as a surge of electricity jolted through her body, muscles seizing violently. Her claws vanished, her fangs receded—her entire shifted form buckled under the overload. She hit the ground hard, limbs spasming, vision splintered by pain.
“Stay down,” Fane snarled, dragging her in like fresh kill.
She gasped, tasting copper, her hands clawing at the floor as the barbed coil ripped through her skin. Her legs trembled, nerves misfiring from the shock, but she kept fighting—kept dragging her fingers through dirt and blood in some desperate crawl toward nowhere.
Fane’s shadow fell over her.
“Let’s end this quickly,” he muttered, voice cold and final.
Through the white noise of her panic, she heard Rell—swearing, struggling—pinned by the black goo near the loft. He thrashed violently, stuck like prey in tar. His expression was wild, furious, panicked.
“Damn it, hold on!” he barked.
But Elora couldn’t. Her strength was gone. Her limbs refused to work. Her thoughts scattered.
Fane loomed closer, his hand reaching for her.
This is it, she thought, despair choking her. I’ve failed.
Then—twang.
The sharp snap of a crossbow bolt sliced through the chaos.
The electrified coil around Elora’s ankle jerked once, then shattered with a flash of blue sparks. Her leg dropped limply to the ground, the pain giving way to a jarring relief. She gasped, blinking through the haze, heart pounding.
Both she and Fane whipped toward the barn doors.
Violette stood framed in the broken entrance like a judgment delivered late. Her cloak billowed in the wind, one knee bent from the recoil of her shot, the crossbow already reloaded and leveled with terrifying precision.
“Step away from her.”
Fane snarled, lips pulling back to show his teeth. “You’re becoming a nuisance.”
Violette cocked the crossbow again—click. “Good.”
She fired. Fane barely dodged, the bolt tearing past his shoulder and burying itself in a support beam. He twisted, reaching for another vial at his belt.
But before he could throw it, a hand clamped around Elora’s arm. She jerked back with a startled cry, clawing at the dirt until she recognized the face.
Symond.
“Get up,” he snapped.
He hauled her to her feet with surprising strength, dragging her behind a heap of toppled crates and shattered farming tools as another vial exploded nearby—BOOM!—sending splinters and black goo in every direction.
They hit the ground behind cover, breathless and rattled. Elora's heart was trying to claw its way out of her chest.
“You—” she gasped, “you saved me—”
Symond’s jaw clenched. His hazel eyes met hers, sharp and unreadable. “Don’t thank me.”
He released her arm, eyes scanning the chaos. “I was following orders. Now stay down and try not to get yourself killed.”
She stared at him, stunned, half-tempted to argue, but his expression silenced her.
“This isn’t your fight,” he added. “Let the professionals handle it.”
And then he was gone, vanishing around the crates and back into the fray.
Elora slumped against the wooden crates, chest heaving, ears ringing. Her ankle still throbbed from the coil’s shock, and her body ached from being dragged, thrown, and nearly electrocuted. The scent of alchemical resin and burnt wood clung to everything.
She peeked around the edge just in time to see Symond strike—quick, calculated, precise. Violette’s next bolt forced Fane to shift again, his attention fracturing between three opponents.
And just as Fane pivoted to strike back, a savage roar erupted from the shadows—
Rell, now free from the goo, burst from the side with a short blade in one hand and a shard bottle in the other, his face all fury.
The trap had finally sprung.
And Elora—still shaken, still bleeding—could only watch.
∞∞∞
Rell
Rell ducked under the arc of Fane’s swing, boots skidding across splintered wood, just in time to see Violette’s bolt sink into the brute’s shoulder.
Fane grunted.
“Nice shot,” Rell muttered under his breath, pivoting to flank him. Symond mirrored the motion from the left. The kid was sloppy, but his blade was fast when it needed to be.
They had him boxed in now. Just three very pissed-off people and one oversized thug who didn’t know when to quit.
Rell adjusted his grip on his blade. One clean strike to the leg, maybe the knee. Drop the bastard, let Symond land something meaningful—
But then he saw it.
Fane’s hand drifted to his belt, fingers closing around a vial. Not just any shard. That one.
The same glowing glass that leveled half the outpost.
Rell’s stomach bottomed out.
“Violette!” he shouted, already lunging forward.
She moved on instinct—of course she did. Bolt fired, cleaner than the last, striking Fane just below the first. It staggered him, arm dropping an inch. Barely—but it was enough.
Rell and Symond surged in.
Symond aimed high—dumb but brave. Rell went low, sliding beneath the bastard’s swing, blade aimed for the thigh gap in the plating.
But Fane wasn’t slow. Even injured, he twisted, one meaty fist crashing into Rell’s side like a battering ram.
Everything spun.
Rell hit the wall hard. His back screamed. His ribs protested. He spat out blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist.
“Damn it.”
Symond’s blade struck true a moment later, slicing across Fane’s forearm, but he paid for it. Fane slammed him into the opposite wall like a thrown sack of grain.
And then, Fane lifted the vial again.
No more time.
“Elora!” Rell barked, eyes darting toward her makeshift cover.
She was there. Pale. Bruised. Steady. And reaching.
The enchanted dagger gleamed in her hand.
One heartbeat later, the blade flew.
It spun once, twice, three times—then buried itself in the side of Fane’s thick neck.
The magic took hold instantly.
Fane jerked, confused. His arms slowed. The fire in his eyes dulled for just a breath.
“Vye! Symond!” Rell shouted. “Move!”
Violette didn’t even glance his way. She fired one last bolt, forcing Fane back a step, then bolted for the door. Symond ran after her. Both of them made it outside just as the vial—still clutched in Fane’s trembling hand—was coming down.
Rell’s blood went cold.
“Elora!” he roared, lunging toward her.
The vial hit the floor with a sound that didn’t belong in nature. Like glass snapping between dimensions.
BOOM!
The shockwave blew through the barn like a monster exhaling.
Rell dove, grabbing Elora by the waist and pulling her into him. They hit the dirt behind the crates just as the explosion tore the building apart.
Beams cracked. The roof folded in. Nails screamed as they were ripped from timber. Splinters sliced past like shrapnel. The world was chaos—fire, noise, heat.
Rell gritted his teeth and curled tighter around her.
“Stay down, Sunshine,” he muttered into her hair, arms locked around her.
Elora trembled, pressed against him, but she didn’t cry out.
The barn groaned above them—a warning.
Then it gave out entirely.
The roof caved with a thunderous crack, beams splitting, timbers snapping like brittle bones. Smoke and dust swallowed everything as the structure collapsed inward. Crates shattered. Hay ignited. A second blast of splinters and debris roared through the air.
And then—
Silence.