Chapter 51 #2
He must’ve realized it, too. With a swift downward slash, he cut through the tendons behind his opponent’s knees. The Tyrian crumpled, screaming. Shayde’s eyes lifted toward the sky—and then locked with mine.
His face softened. He mouthed, “Go.”
No. No, no, no.
I dropped to my knees in the dirt, frantically drawing the unlocking rune. My fingers trembled. I added a secondary symbol—one meant to propel the magic forward. I’d never tried it before. I wasn’t even sure it would work.
I looked up just in time to see Shayde tear the tungsten choker from his neck and toss it aside.
Then time slowed.
The dragon unleashed the flame. It came for us in a tidal wave of silver heat, vaporizing everything in its path. Shayde threw up his arms—and a wall of searing red-orange fire erupted around him.
I dropped lower, pressing my palms and forehead to the ground. The roar of flame swallowed the world. The heat pressed down on my back like a living thing. I held my breath and waited for my skin to burn…
But the agony never came.
I could feel the heat roaring over me like the winds of an angry tempest—but there was no pain.
Cautiously, I turned my head, cheek in the dirt, and risked a glance.
Silver fire mixed with red and orange surged above me, a roaring inferno skimming inches away—yet something held it back.
It was as if an invisible barrier surrounded me, parting the flames in a perfect arc.
My gaze snapped forward.
Shayde stood in the middle of the blaze with his back to me, his gear still intact thanks to the Hollow’s battle leathers. One arm stretched behind him, palm open and facing me. The other hand moved in sharp, deliberate motions, orchestrating a storm of fire with terrifying precision.
But it wasn’t just fire. He was using air, too.
Wind surged around him, feeding the flames, turning them into weapons—whips, spears, tendrils that lashed the gray dragon from every direction. They struck with explosive force, knocking it off course mid-flight. The ground shook as the dragon crashed into the thick woods on my right.
Within two heartbeats, Shayde was at my side, yanking me to my feet. We sprinted for the cabin. My lungs burned under my ribs, my legs moving on instinct alone.
Shayde leapt onto the porch and flung the door open, revealing the ancient runes I’d painted across the wall.
For one precious second, I thought we’d made it.
In the next, the world exploded.
I hit the ground face-first; the air punched from my lungs. Dirt filled my mouth. My ears rang, and I coughed violently, struggling to breathe, to understand what had happened. Pain flared hot across my chest. I tried to push up—but couldn’t. That’s when I saw it.
A thick tree—one of the massive oaks from the perimeter—had crashed down right behind me.
And trapped me in its fall.
The trunk pinned my left leg, and a panicked scream tore from my throat. I shoved at the bark, clawed at the earth, fought with everything I had—but the weight was too much.
We were right there. The portal was right there.
And now I was trapped.
I threw up my mental gates to block Scarlet out. The rush of Tyrian troops blurred at the edges of my vision as I clawed at the earth, desperate to free my leg. Tears streamed as splinters pierced my palms and skin split beneath the bark.
Suddenly, another pair of hands shoved against the trunk beside mine.
I didn’t think—I drew my dagger in one breathless motion, ready to slit the throat of whoever dared touch me.
But it wasn’t the enemy of my people.
It was the enemy of my heart.
Shayde braced against the massive tree, teeth gritted, muscles straining as he heaved with everything he had. A roar tore from his throat as he pressed harder, sweat beading across his brow. The thunder of boots grew louder as Tyrian troops closed in.
“Go!” I shouted, shoving him with what little strength I had left. “You can make it!”
His warm brown eyes snapped to mine. He hesitated, gaze flicking between me and the advancing threat—utterly torn and frantic.
A sharp gust burst from his palm, slamming into the fallen tree. It shifted—but with it came a searing pull against my trapped leg. Pain ripped through me, and I screamed as the bark scraped deeper into my skin. The wind stopped immediately.
Both of us were out of breath. Our chests rose and fell in frantic rhythm. The fight with the tree paused, replaced by the war drumming in my ears. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to collect myself.
Shayde’s hands found the back of my neck, and his forehead dropped to mine. For a few fragile seconds, we shared the same breath, our pulses syncing.
Then—his warmth vanished.
I didn’t open my eyes. I listened: to pounding footsteps drawing closer, to the hiss of distant flames, to the sound of Shayde’s retreating steps as he ran back to the cabin.
He will finish activating the chasm. He will grab the last of our gear. He will take the missing piece of the Mareki’s Key to Scarlet.
She will unveil it with the Mareki’s help.
“You are meant for more,” I whispered across the marekem. “And if you ever stop believing it, I’ll rise from my grave and haunt your ass until you remember.”
“Stop being so dramatic and get your asses back here. We’re waiting on the other side.”
I bit the inside of my lip as something inside me splintered. My heart felt like it was being torn in two.
The Tyrian troops roared as they advanced. Ten feet away. Then eight. Then five.
My options were limited. I could wait for death—let them kill me. Or beg for mercy, hoping to be tossed into a dungeon or shackled into servitude. Maybe I’d escape one day. But I had never begged for anything—and I wasn’t about to start now.
So that left me with one choice.
My choice. My control.
My fingers tightened around the hilt of my dagger. The cool blade pressed to the side of my neck—and I started to count.
Three.
Scarlet will save everyone. She’s strong enough.
Two.
My life is a small price to pay. It’s okay.
The blade broke skin. Warm blood slipped down my throat.
One—
Crack.
The sound of bones breaking shattered my countdown. My eyes flew open.
Tyrians—falling. One by one. Their heads twisted at unnatural angles as they collapsed in a rhythmic chorus of thuds.
Off to the side, I saw him. Shayde’s fingers sculpted the air, slicing currents of wind with terrifying precision. He was using air channels—snapping necks like twigs.
When the final body fell, Shayde rushed to me. Without a word, he shoved a branch under the trunk pinning my leg and threw all his weight down. The wood groaned. And then—relief.
I yanked my leg free with a choked breath. Shayde let the tree fall and scooped me up, cradling me as he ran for the cabin.
He laid me gently on the bed and dropped to his knees, scanning my leg without touching. “What hurts?” His voice was hoarse.
Everything.
I forced myself to assess. My leathers had protected most of the damage, and when I reached the side pocket on my calf, I pulled out the object that had lodged between my leg and the tree.
My hands trembled as I slipped the masquerade mask free, flinching as pieces fell to the floor. I ran my fingers over the pocket and felt only minor cuts. The mask must’ve absorbed the worst of the impact.
Shayde picked up the fragments with shaking hands, realization flashing in his eyes. He had forged that mask. His creation had just saved me.
I reached for the jar of paint and handed it to him. “There’s only one more rune left,” I said, barely above a whisper.
He stood without hesitation, finishing the last curve of the arch. I gathered our belongings, tossed them into my satchel, and hobbled to his side.
Closing my eyes, I summoned my elements. I pictured the Hollow’s mountaintop where we began.
The runes ignited. Magic crackled. The chasm shimmered open.
Shayde slung my arm over his shoulder, wrapped an arm around my waist. Together, bruised and breathless, we leapt into the chasm.