Chapter 10 Dario #2
Close. Gods, she didn’t know what that word did to me, how my body pressed instinctively nearer, how my chest nearly brushed her back as we worked. I could feel the warmth of her power flooding through her, radiating into me each time her light flared.
The wards lashed back. A tendril of silver lightning snapped out, striking at her arm. She cried out, staggering, but before she could falter, my shadows rose like a shield, swallowing the strike. The energy burned me, searing into my flesh, but I ground my teeth and held fast.
“Stay with me,” I growled, shadows surging to protect her flanks.
Her voice shook, but it came steady. “I’m here.”
The deeper we pushed, the more the barrier resisted. Each rune we unraveled spawned two more, each seam we pried open bled raw magic like tar. Sweat dampened her temples, her breath coming harsher with each flare of golden fire.
Finally, a fracture spread across the heart of the barrier, jagged and trembling, a seam ready to split.
“Elena!” I called, my shadows thrashing in anticipation.
“I see it!” she shouted back, her hands blazing brighter than the sun itself. The golden fire roared, tearing into the seam, and my shadows poured after it like a river bursting its banks.
Light and shadow slammed into the fracture with a sound like shattering glass. The runes shrieked, their silver light twisting, unraveling, collapsing inward.
A shockwave ripped outward, blasting through the forest, sending trees bending and roots shuddering.
The wards screamed one last time—and then exploded.
The force knocked us both back. Elena staggered, and I caught her without thought, my hands closing around her waist. She fell against me, her hair brushing my cheek, her breath hot against my throat.
The barrier was gone. I could feel it—like a weight lifted from my chest, like lungs filling with air after drowning. For the first time in a century, the world stretched beyond these cursed trees.
“Elena…” My voice cracked, raw and trembling. I had not wept in a hundred years, but in that moment I nearly did.
Her hand came up, unthinking, brushing the side of my face. Warm, soft. Human.
The wards’ death cry still echoed through the forest, but in that moment, I could hear nothing but her breath, feel nothing but her body pressed to mine.
For a long, breathless heartbeat, I couldn’t move.
The wards were gone. The silence of their absence roared louder than their endless whisper had ever done.
Since Nyx’s curse, they had always been there—woven into my bones, pressing on my skin, leeching my breath.
Their presence had been so constant, so omnipresent, that I had stopped noticing the weight, like a chain one forgets until it’s suddenly gone.
And now—freedom.
The absence hit me like a tidal wave. My heart stuttered, shadows trembling around me like beasts suddenly unchained. They lashed wildly, filling the clearing with dark coils that bent and twisted, seeking an enemy to devour.
I clenched my fists, fighting to rein them in, to remind myself that the battle was won. But the flood was overwhelming. A century of restraint snapped in an instant.
Then her hand reached out for mine. Unthinking, I gave it to her, watching as she pulled me to my feet. Just a small touch, steady, grounding.
“Dario,” Elena whispered, her voice cutting through the cacophony like sunlight piercing stormclouds. “Breathe.”
I hadn’t realized I wasn’t.
Air rushed into my lungs like fire, searing, sharp, alive. I dragged it in greedily, chest heaving as though I were inhaling the world for the first time. My shadows quivered, then stilled, retreating closer to me as though ashamed of their frenzy.
I was free. By the gods, I was free.
And it was because of her.
I turned to her, every wall I had built over a century cracked and crumbling.
She stood only inches away, her face flushed with exertion, her golden hair wild around her shoulders, her chest rising and falling with quick, uneven breaths.
Sweat glistened along her brow, but her eyes—those eyes—burned with triumph and something deeper, softer, as they met mine.
The clearing hummed with the echo of our joined magic.
The forest itself seemed to bow in recognition.
Without the wards, the air was different—fresher, thinner, alive.
I could sense the trees waving their limbs, every root shifting in relief.
Even the night sky above looked sharper, stars glittering with a clarity I hadn’t seen in a century.
I drank it in greedily, dizzy with wonder.
Fragments of the shattered wards drifted through the air, glowing motes of gold and violet, sparks of light twining with threads of shadow before fading into the night.
They floated around her like a crown, catching in her hair, clinging to her lashes, making her look less like a priestess and more like some celestial being descended to earth.
I realized I was staring when she shifted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You’re quiet,” she said softly.
“I’ve forgotten how.”
Her brows lifted. “How to speak?”
“How to be .” The words slipped out before I could stop them, heavy with truth.
“The wards… they defined me. Contained me. Even when I raged, even when I fought, I knew my limits. Now—” I spread my hands, shadows unfurling from my palms like restless wings.
“Now I don’t know where the limits end. I don’t know where I end. ”
Her gaze softened.
“You’ll learn,” she murmured. “You don’t have to know everything tonight. Freedom takes time.”
Freedom. The word made me ache.
I stepped closer before I thought better of it, drawn by the warmth in her voice, the quiet certainty she carried as though the Sun God himself had set it in her bones. The shadows curled toward her instinctively, brushing the edge of her cloak, twining like vines reaching for the sun.
She didn’t flinch. Didn’t recoil. Instead, she lifted her hand and let her fingers trail through the darkness, as though stroking the fur of a beloved cat. My magic shivered beneath her touch, alive, responsive .
A groan tore from my throat before I could choke it back.
Her eyes darted to mine, wide, startled—not fearful. Something else. Something that twisted low in my gut, hot and dangerous.
“Elena.” Her name was a plea, a warning, a curse. “Don’t—”
“Don’t what?” Her voice was steady, but her breathing wasn’t.
“Just don’t.”
Her lips parted, and for a moment, I thought she might step closer still.
The night held its breath. My body screamed with a need I hadn’t felt in a century, the hunger to close the distance, to taste the warmth that shimmered just beyond reach.
But she didn’t move. And neither did I.
Because if I touched her, I wouldn’t stop.
The silence stretched, taut as a drawn bowstring.
Finally, I dragged in a breath sharp enough to hurt, pulling the shadows back into myself. They recoiled reluctantly, leaving the air between us strangely bare.
“You should rest,” I said hoarsely, forcing steadiness I didn’t feel. “Tomorrow will test us both.”
Her gaze lingered on me, searching, weighing. Then she nodded, though her shoulders were tight, her hands curling briefly at her sides before she let them fall.
“You’re right,” she said. The words were simple, but her voice was rough, frayed at the edges.
I forced myself to take a step back, shadows swirling protectively to build a barrier between us. I could still feel her warmth clinging to me, seared into my skin like a brand.
Dangerous. She was too dangerous.
The forest stirred again, pulling us back to the world outside our fragile silence.
At that moment, a familiar, soft brush of wings against my shoulders made me turn, and I saw Meryn, my loyal snowy owl, swooping down to land gracefully on a branch nearby.
Her white feathers gleamed in the faint moonlight, her sharp eyes watching me with an almost knowing gaze.
She let out a soft hoot, her gaze unwavering, and I felt a familiar comfort settle over me, a reassurance that I wasn’t alone.
“Your pet?” Elena asked, and I nodded.
“Meryn.” I raised a hand and she settled on my bent wrist, fluffing her feathers. “Meryn, meet Elena.”
“She’s beautiful,” Elena cooed, and I fought to keep the smile off my face as she fussed over my pet.
“Well, Meryn,” I murmured, unable to keep the faint tremor from my voice as I stroked her feathers, “looks like I can finally join you on your trips outside the forest.”
A long moment passed, and then Elena cleared her throat.
“Come, we have work to do,” she said. “There’s still so much we don’t know about the disappearances, the relief grain… everything the Elders have refused to explain.”
I nodded, feeling the familiar intensity return, the determination that had driven me through centuries of darkness.
Only now, it wasn’t a solitary struggle—it was something I would face beside her, with her strength and light to guide me.
“Then let’s get to it,” I replied, meeting her gaze with a fierce, unbreakable resolve. “Together.”