Chapter 22
Rell
Steel met steel with a shriek as Rell intercepted a strike from the coil. The force of it surged through his body—raw electricity snapping through his muscles. His teeth clenched, every nerve lit like a fuse. But he held.
Fane’s eyes flared wide in momentary surprise.
The nightglider surged back to its feet behind Rell, golden eyes briefly meeting his. Then it lunged again.
“Are you insane?” Violette shouted, firing another bolt. “You’re going to get killed protecting that thing!”
Rell didn’t look at her. “It’s fighting on our side. That’s all I need to know.”
“For now,” she snapped again.
Rell watched for an opening—found one when Fane turned to finish Symond.
He darted in, low and fast, slicing across the back of Fane’s knee. Blood sprayed. Fane stumbled.
But the bastard’s retaliation was instant.
Rell caught a meaty forearm to the chest and flew backward, skidding across the grass and slamming into broken timbers. The breath left him in a single painful gust.
Before he could rise, the nightglider was already in motion.
It launched onto Fane’s back, claws digging deep, wings flaring wide. The aloyt steel shrieked under the force, buckling and tearing as the creature clamped down with jaws meant for killing.
Fane screamed. It was the sound of a man who finally knew fear.
The coil dropped from his hand.
He staggered.
And then the nightglider sank its fangs into his neck.
Fane’s roar choked off into a gurgle. His body sagged. He dropped to one knee, then toppled forward with a heavy, final thud.
Rell slowly pushed to his feet, breath ragged.
The nightglider stood atop the fallen bounty hunter, blood dripping from its jaws, wings glowing in the moonlight.
The nightglider’s golden eyes flicked briefly to Rell before locking onto Elora.
She stood frozen a few feet away, her face pale, hands trembling. Her eyes were fixed on the creature with something like disbelief or recognition.
“Viliam.”
Rell’s jaw tightened. So it had a name. And clearly, there was a hell of a lot more going on than Elora had let on.
The air between them all felt stretched thin, taut with something just short of panic. The nightglider growled low in its throat, the sound reverberating through the ground beneath their boots. It wasn’t a snarl. It wasn’t even hostile. But it was a warning.
Symond stepped in closer, blade drawn, posture tight. His gaze didn’t leave the creature. “Did Thorn send it after her?”
Rell didn’t look away from the nightglider, but he couldn’t help the smirk tugging at his mouth. “That’s sweet, Symond. Didn’t realize you were so concerned about Elora’s safety. Warms the heart.”
Symond bristled. “Oh, I’m not. I’ll gladly hand her over to it,” he huffed, though his blade raised slightly.
The nightglider’s golden eyes tracked him as he stepped back, its muscles coiled beneath its fur, wings twitching.
“It’s too dangerous,” Violette said, her crossbow steady, her tone sharp. “We don’t know what it is or what it wants. Could be here for her. Could turn on us the second we let our guard down.”
“It’s not,” Elora said quickly.
She stepped forward before anyone could stop her, her movements tentative but certain. Rell reached out instinctively, but she moved past his grasp and went straight to Violette.
Her hands rested gently on Vye’s arms, guiding the bow downward. “Don’t shoot. Please. It’s not here to hurt us. It helped.”
Violette’s eyes flicked to Rell. She didn’t lower her weapon, but she didn’t fire either.
“It hasn’t hurt us yet,” she muttered. “That doesn’t mean it won’t.”
“We don’t have time to argue,” Rell cut in, turning toward the open field. “North barn. Closest route to the main road.”
“I’m checking Fane,” Symond said, already stalking toward the fallen bounty hunter. “There could be gear. Info. Something worth taking.”
“We don’t have time for that either,” Rell snapped. “Guards are coming. And unless you want to explain what the hell happened here, or get yourself recognized, we move. Now.”
Movement in the distance caught his eye. Torches. A dozen of them at least, bobbing in the dark, headed straight for them. Now that the fighting was done, of course. Coming to clean up the mess.
The nightglider’s growl softened into a low, almost pained sound. Its wings twitched once, then folded tighter against its sides. It looked at Elora—really looked at her.
And something passed between them.
Then, without a sound, the creature launched skyward. Its wings burst open with a force that kicked up a cyclone of dust and dead grass, sending the air into a frenzy. In a single powerful beat, it vanished into the night, just a ripple of aurora light swallowed by the darkness.
“Wait!” Elora shouted, lunging toward the place it had just stood.
Violette’s hand shot out, catching her by the arm. “We don’t have time for this,” she snapped. Her eyes flicked to the fast-approaching line of torches, then back to Rell. “Get her under control. Shadowmeld potions. Now.”
She shoved Elora toward him like she was handing off a problem. “She’s your mess.”
Rell caught her, barely keeping his frustration in check. His jaw clenched as he yanked a shadowmeld shard from her belt and held it up between them. “Drink.”
Elora couldn’t take her eyes away from the sky as if the creature might come back.
“Elora,” he said again, voice low and sharp. “Now.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she took the vial, uncorked it, and threw it back. Rell drank his, the bitter liquid clawing down his throat. The world dimmed, their bodies disappearing into the folds of darkness until only the faintest warps in the air marked their passing.
He grabbed her hand firmly and took off at a run.
Behind them, the guards’ voices grew louder, their boots pounding closer to the wreckage.
They reached the safe barn—smaller, sturdier, tucked behind a tree line.
Inside, the air was heavy with fresh hay and dust, the quiet almost eerie after the chaos they’d left behind.
As the shadowmeld wore off, their forms bled back into the moonlight, the shimmer fading from their skin like fog burning off at sunrise.
Elora tore her hand from his grip the moment she solidified and stormed deeper into the barn.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Rell muttered. He followed, closing the distance in three long strides before grabbing her arm and spinning her back toward him. “You’re not walking away from this.”
Her golden-ringed eyes blazed as she jerked her arm, but his grip held fast.
“Let go,” she hissed.
“Not until you explain all of it,” Rell snapped.
“It’s none of your business.”
“Elora—” His tone dropped into something colder, more dangerous. “You don’t get to play mysterious after nearly getting us killed.”
She snarled and slashed at him, her claws catching the edge of his coat. But Rell was faster. He caught her wrist mid-swipe, twisting just enough to stop her without hurting her.
“Shift back,” he ordered.
“No,” she snapped, her claws flexing slightly as her lip curled in defiance.
Rell didn’t even see Symond approach and put his hand on her until it was too late.
One second, he had Elora’s wrist in his grasp, her eyes burning into his. The next, she let out a sharp gasp, her body tensing as a weak jolt of electricity crackled through her. It didn’t cause her to shift, however. Probably, not strong enough.
Rell’s patience was already hanging by a damn thread, and Symond snapping it wasn’t exactly surprising.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rell snapped, his grip on Elora loosening slightly as he turned fully toward Symond.
“Trying to help,” Symond said with a shrug. “Clearly, she’s not cooperating.”
Rell didn’t even have time to respond before Elora lunged.
Her rage was instant, explosive. A snarl ripped from her throat as she tore free from Rell’s grip and tackled Symond. He barely got his arms up in time to stop her claws from tearing into his face. She slammed him back against the barn wall hard enough that dust shook loose from the rafters.
"You psycho—" he snapped. Symond grunted, trying to shove her off, but she was fast—too fast. She dodged his counter like she saw it coming before he even moved, her claws flashing in the moonlight as she pressed him harder into the wall.
“I am not some fucking experiment for you to poke at,” she hissed through clenched teeth.
Rell took a step back, crossing his arms as he watched the two of them tear into each other.
He wasn’t exactly concerned. Sure, Elora was stronger in her shifted form, but Symond was quicker than he looked, and even exhausted, the bastard had an impressive mean streak.
They were evenly matched in the worst way possible.
Vye came up beside him, watching with mild disapproval. “We should probably stop them.”
Rell raised a brow, glancing at her. “Fuck no. He deserves it. Besides, this is probably good for them. You know what they say—only two ways to solve tension like this.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re an idiot.”
Rell chuckled. “I mean, look at them,” he gestured lazily toward the fight.
Symond met her head-on this time, blocking her claws with his forearm and driving his fist toward her ribs. She twisted at the last second, his punch only glancing off her side, but the force still sent her staggering.
That should’ve slowed her down.
It didn’t.
Violette sighed but didn’t argue.
Symond dodged a swipe from Elora and countered by shoving her into a wooden beam. Elora growled, pushing off the beam, her breathing heavy but steady. Symond smirked, wiping blood from his own mouth.
“That all you got?” His voice was a rasp, equal parts amusement and venom. “You’re supposed to be stronger now, aren’t you? Show me.”
“You’re weak,” she shot back.
“Weak?” Symond let out a harsh laugh. “I fought off six people in the sewers and still managed to show up in time to save your ass from Fane.”
Rell’s smirk dropped, and his gaze flicked to Violette. “What the hell is he talking about?”
Vye crossed her arms. “We got jumped.”
“By who?”
“Bounty hunters,” she admitted. “Symond has a price on his head, and they were looking to cash in.” She exhaled sharply. “I almost drowned.”
Rell clenched his fists, anger curling hot in his chest at the idea of Violette—one of the most capable fighters he knew—being put in danger because of Symond. But before he could voice that irritation, she added, “He saved me.”
That… complicated things.
Meanwhile, the fight continued. Elora hooked her leg around Symond’s, knocking him off balance, and in a blink, they were on the ground. He barely had time to react before she was on top of him, her claws pressing against his throat.
“Get. Off,” he bit out.
Elora bared her teeth in something almost like a grin. “Make me.”
Violette nudged Rell with her elbow. “Now can we stop them?”
Rell huffed a laugh, shaking off his thoughts. “Oh, hell no.”
She gave him a look.
“I need this entertainment after everything that just happened.”
Snarling, Symond surged up, flipping their positions in an instant, slamming her onto her back. She thrashed at his chest but he grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. She squirmed, and he pressed his weight into her harder.
“What’s the matter, Elora? I thought you said you could defend yourself?” Symond leaned over, his face getting a bit too close. She snapped up at him but he was just out of reach of her fangs.
Grinning, Rell called out, “Should we leave you two alone? Maybe clear the barn and let you figure this out some other way?”
Violette groaned. “Rell.”
He chuckled.
But the comment distracted Symond just enough for Elora to sink her fangs into his arm.
“Ow—fuck!” Symond yelped, jerking back.
Elora shoved him off, scrambling upright, her fangs bared, eyes flashing dangerously. Symond clutched his arm, blood dripping between his fingers.
Before Elora could lunge again, Rell stepped in, grabbing her by the waist and hauling her back. “Alright, alright, that’s enough,” he said, though he was still laughing as he wrestled her struggling form.
Symond wiped at the blood on his arm, scowling. “I’m calling that a win,” he muttered. “At least I don’t need someone to hold me back.”
Rell snorted, still holding Elora against his chest. “Sure, Symond. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
Elora struggled and shrugged out of his grasp and he let her go.
She was still fuming, her breath sharp and unsteady, claws twitching at her sides.
Symond, on the other hand, had gone eerily still.
He was hunched over slightly, catching his breath, but when he straightened, something about him seemed. .. off.
Rell squinted.
Symond was standing stiffly, his hands positioned awkwardly in front of him, hovering just below his belt. Like he was trying to cover something.
Rell blinked. No fucking way.
Symond's face twisted—anger, confusion, something worse. Then, with a sharp inhale, he tore his gaze away from Elora and turned, shoulders tense as he grabbed a healing balm from Vye without a word.
Elora, completely unaware of Symond’s predicament, let out a sharp breath. “I’m taking first watch,” she muttered, turning on her heel and marching toward the barn doors.
Rell frowned. “Elora, maybe let someone else—”
The glare she shot over her shoulder shut him up instantly.
She stormed out, leaving nothing but the cold night air in her wake.
“I’m going to sleep,” Symond said. Rell turned his attention back to him just as Symond retreated further into the barn, fingers raking through and pulling his hair as he slipped into one of the horse stalls.
Rell’s smirk grew as he crossed his arms, glancing at Violette, who was watching him with a thinly veiled exasperation.
“Don’t.”
Rell grinned. “I haven’t even said anything yet.”
“You want to say something,” she corrected, crossing her arms.
“Oh, I definitely do,” Rell admitted, still grinning. “You have to admit, it’s kind of hilarious.” He jerked his chin toward the stall Symond had all but hid in. “He’s been blaming her for all his problems, and now he’s walking around sporting a hard-on after trying to kill her?”
She exhaled heavily. “Oh, stop. It’s just the adrenaline from the fight. Bodies do weird things sometimes—”
“Shh…” Rell rubbed his chin, feigning deep thought. “Hmm, I have three options. Go after Elora, tease Symond about the obvious problem he’s having, or just go to sleep.”
Violette gave him a flat look. “Option three.”
Rell snorted. “Not happening.”
Violette raised a brow. “You’re picking Elora.”
“Obviously.”
“Predictable,” she muttered, but there was no real judgment behind it. Still smirking, he pushed open the barn doors and stepped into the cool night air.
Time to track down the feral little runaway.