44. Betrayal #3
I clench my fists, my nails digging deep as I fight to keep my breathing steady. Keagan. The sight of him sends a bolt of ice through my veins. I can still feel his claws at my throat, still hear his voice, cold and taunting as he nearly ended me.
My heart pounds erratically, torn between instinct and reason.
Part of me still wants to reach for Oberon, to hold onto whatever fragile piece of him remains. But that flicker in his eyes, that fleeting crack in his composure, keeps me frozen in place.
Something is wrong.
With a single, silent command from Keagan, the soldiers move.
Then, all at once, the battle erupts.
Soldiers surge from both sides, the ground trembling beneath the weight of their charge. The clash of steel against steel rings in my ears, sharp and deafening, while the squelch of blood-soaked earth and the cries of the dying weave a grim symphony in the chaos.
Oberon and I stand frozen, separated by the battlefield that tore itself open between us. Smoke curls in the space between us, thick and choking, blurring his figure in the distance.
Yet even through the haze, I think I see something in his face, a flicker of something in his eyes.
The fight rages on, bodies clashing, blades striking with brutal finality. But for just a breath, time seems to fracture, trapping me in the horror of what has begun.
He doesn’t move either.
It is as if we are both suspended in time, caught between the gravity of the situation and the unspoken realization that nothing is as it should be.
The world around us explodes in violence, but all I can see is him.
The tension in his posture is palpable, but it isn’t from the battle raging at his feet. Something tells me he is just as lost in this moment as I am.
A wall of soldiers, blades flashing and bodies shifting, stands between us, separating us from any hope of connecting.
I want to break through it, to shout his name, to reach out and pull him back from whatever darkness has taken hold of him.
The panic in my chest claws at me, tightening my throat as I watch, helpless. Everything we’ve fought for is slipping through our fingers.
The soldiers around us move in a blur, their faces indistinguishable, their movements mechanical.
Zander and Ash are lost in the chaos, their figures barely visible as they carve a path through the tide of soldiers.
On Ash’s side, bodies fly through the air, their limbs flailing, bones snapping with sickening cracks before they slam back to the earth.
Some land in broken heaps, others are impaled on jagged remnants of shattered weapons, their lifeless eyes staring up at nothing.
The ground beneath him is a graveyard of the fallen, the sickening thud of bodies hitting the dirt forming a gruesome rhythm in the madness.
Blood stains his hands, his face, yet he never falters, never hesitates.
On the opposite side, Zander’s war cries tear through the air, a roar of unyielding power as he cleaves through soldier after soldier.
His blade drips crimson, his movements relentless, each strike precise and brutal.
A male lunges for him, and Zander meets him with a vicious swing, severing his head clean from his shoulders.
The body drops, twitching, as blood fountains across the dirt.
Another comes at him, and he drives his sword straight through their chest, the dying soldier’s gasp lost in the deafening chaos.
Just as the bloodshed seems to reach its peak, a ripple in the air catches my attention as the ground trembles. A massive figure looms at Oberon’s side, Keagan. His form twists and expands in a violent burst of power.
What was once a male is now a colossal beast, its sleek black body glistening under the blood-red sky, wings unfurling with a deafening snap, massive and dark as night, stretching wide enough to block out the sun.
Its eyes gleam with a feral hunger, and its jaw parts, revealing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth as it lets out a guttural growl.
With a swift, powerful leap, the beast launches into the air, its wings beating with the force of a storm, sending soldiers scrambling in every direction. It descends upon the battlefield with terrifying speed, raking through the ranks of Fae like they are nothing.
The sound of its claws tearing through armor and flesh echoes through the clearing, an unstoppable force of destruction.
Amidst the carnage, I remain motionless, my eyes locked on Oberon, his face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and terror, unable to do anything but watch the hell that tears through the battlefield.
Believe in me. The words cut through the chaos, clear and unmistakable. His voice rips through my mind like a jagged blade, sending a shockwave through my entire body. For a moment, everything around me disappears. The soldiers, the blood, the battle, all of it fades into nothing.
The panic hits me, drowning me in confusion. My chest tightens, my heart racing as the realization settles in the pit of my stomach. I am hearing his voice in my mind.
The connection we share, the bond I always knew existed, his presence, his touch, his gaze.
Believe in me, Lyra. His voice echoes again.