Chapter 23
Evangeline
Lady Thalia takes my arm, while Finnick leads the way.
He’s holding what appears to be a miniature dagger, and there’s a green aura around him I’ve never seen before.
“His magic,” Lady Thalia answers my unasked question.
“He’s felt stronger since he’s started eating your food, giving him the strength he needs again.
It will help him detect a threat quicker. ”
I’m not entirely sure how someone as small as Finnick can protect us, but I’m not in the position to question them. Out of everyone here, it’s clear I’m the weak link.
Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped Zephyr from sending me away.
Just as quickly as the thought appears, I push it away.
No, I’m doing exactly what I need to do.
I didn’t come here to hide in the shadows, thinking of adventure.
Maybe at first, but I have to make the most out of my new reality.
Adventure is here now, and it’s my time to prove I can handle it. Shit…I hope I can.
Leaving Niko felt like I was ripping my soul in half.
The immediate connection burning through my body the moment he kissed me was something I never experienced before.
The feeling was all-consuming. It’s the most alive I’ve ever felt.
I didn’t want to stop kissing him, didn’t want to stop the feelings taking over me.
Even now, I ache for him, scared shitless something bad will happen to him.
Or Zephyr.
“This way,” Finnick says, snapping my attention back to the present. He makes an abrupt right, heading away from the screams and clashes of metal.
Battles are taking place, and each scream haunts me and chills my bones. Lady Thalia holds me tighter, her own body tense against mine. She’s not as unaffected as she appears, but she’s doing a better job at keeping herself together.
“Don’t cry, my dear. My son and Zephyr are strong.
They will pull through this. We need to make sure those in the infirmary have someplace safe to hide during this,” Lady Thalia says as tears blur my vision.
I didn’t even realize I’m crying until she mentioned it.
Another thing I blame on the damn mating ceremony.
By the time we break through the thicket of trees to the wide expanse of the infirmary, a building carved from trees and earth, it’s eerily quiet. Finnick stops abruptly at the door, straining his neck as if searching for an unseen threat.
“Clear,” he says after a moment. “For now. Eva, you can stay with me. We’ll get the sick into a safe room and barricade the doors until this is done.”
“What about Lady Thalia?” I turn toward Niko’s mother, feeling responsible for the woman’s safety. Which is crazy because she’s stronger and more capable than I am.
“I’ll start on one end, and you and Finnick will start on the other.
This will move the process along faster.
This could be unnecessary, but it’s a safety precaution we have in place for our people.
I’ll be fine, and I’m close enough to hear you if you need me.
” Her arms wrap around me, engulfing me in a mother’s hug.
Something I’ve desperately missed over the last few years.
It ends too abruptly when Lady Thalia pulls back, a nervousness gleaming in her eyes. “I’ll see you soon. Stay with Finnick.”
“Eva, let’s start this way,” Finnick says.
Lady Thalia casts me one last look before taking off in the opposite direction.
Wordlessly, I follow the sprite, staying close as we head down the hall.
I vaguely remember this being the hall Jameson, the lonely fae I fed, resides in.
Is he alone now? Does he know what’s happening outside?
Part of me hopes he’s asleep, so he doesn’t wake up to the horror taking place outside.
“Those who can walk, we will escort them to the safe room underneath the infirmary. Others, we’ll need to roll their beds—oh shit!”
A thunderous crash echoes through the hallway, followed by a chorus of terrified screams.
I spin around just in time to see a monstrous figure step through the crumbling doorway. It’s as if time itself lurches to a stop, the air thick with the stench of ash and something foul.
The creature stands tall and skeletal, its skin stretched thin over jagged bones, like a corpse that refuses to rot.
Its massive wings unfurl—leathery, blackened, and shredded as though torn apart by centuries of torment.
The tattered membranes hang in strips, flapping with each step like the remnants of some ancient, forgotten war. Very much like the one we are in now.
It moves like a living shadow, darkness clinging to its form, distorting the light around it. Hell has opened a door, and this thing walked through. It’s not the first time I've seen a Nephilim, but each time takes my breath away.
I’m rooted to the spot, frozen in horror.
The Nephilim raises its hand, and with a sharp swipe, a wave of dark magic uncoils from its fingertips.
It slams into the infirmary wall opposite me with a resounding crack, like thunder tearing through stone.
The floor splits open, the fracture racing past overturned cots and shattered privacy screens, climbing the walls like a living thing.
Wooden beams scream as they snap, and the ceiling above the patient rooms begins to collapse.
In seconds, this room in the infirmary is coming apart around me—stone, timber, and dust crashing inward as the destruction spreads from room to room.
The screams from inside are cut off all at once, swallowed by the destruction.
A single, trembling whimper escapes from the rubble—and then, nothing.
Silence.
Dead. Just like that.
I don’t realize I’ve walked closer to the damage until I feel someone tug hard on my hair. “Eva, no!” Finnick hisses, not letting up.
Tears roll down my eyes at the abrupt loss of life. How many people were in that room? What would have happened if we arrived earlier instead of participating in the bonding ceremony? Is this my fault? It certainly feels like it.
“No, we have to go to them!”
“We can’t!” Finnick says from somewhere above me, still holding on to my hair. “We have to go. Now.”
The Nephilim snaps its head around—clearly, it heard Finnick. The sunken eyes, dead and full of malice, spot us. It opens its mouth, and a loud shriek comes out, causing Finnick to cower, covering his ears.
“Humannn,” a bone-chilling voice growls. It’s not human and sounds like multiple people speaking at once. “Deathhh to humannn.”
The pressure against my scalp suddenly lifts. I whip my head around and spot Finnick behind me, crouched low with his head bowed and both hands clamped tightly over his ears. His entire body trembles as he tries to shut out the piercing screeches echoing through the air.
“Finnick!” I shout, panic gripping my chest. His skin turns ghostly pale, and I watch in horror as his wings falter midair, their steady flutter turning to an uncoordinated stutter.
Then they stop completely.
He drops like a stone, his limp form plummeting toward the floor. I don’t think; I just react. Throwing my hands out, I lunge forward and catch his tiny body just before he hits the ground. “Finnick!”
“I’m okay…” he squeaks, but his ghostly complexion speaks a different story. “We have to go. Now.”
“But the others. They are in danger!”
Dilemma plays out across Finnick’s face. His need to keep me safe wars with the need to protect the sick.
The Nephilim pays little attention to our struggles and holds out its hand again.
Inky black shadows cover its hand in pulsing power.
The room fills with the smell of sulfur and death before heating up.
The creature blasts power in our direction.
My body acts on its own accord, and I dive to the side, cradling Finnick close to my chest. The blast of power misses me by mere centimeters.
“Run, Eva!” Finnick screams and tries to break free of me. “I’ll distract him, but you need to go.”
“I’m not leaving you!”
“Of course you would say that!” he growls, narrowing his gaze on me. “If you want to continue cooking delicious meals for me, you need to go.”
“And if you want to continue being my favorite taste-tester, you need to stop telling me to go,” I hiss, aware I’m being difficult and also not caring. I’m not abandoning him, especially now when he can’t even keep himself afloat.
Before Finnick can respond, the Nephilim lifts its arm, dark energy crackling in its palm as it draws power again. I try to dodge, but my foot catches on the uneven ground, and I fall—hard. The impact knocks the breath from my lungs.
Pain explodes through my knees and elbows as they slam against the stone, and my shoulder takes the worst of it, twisting awkwardly beneath me.
Finnick just manages to wriggle out from under my arm before I collapse fully, narrowly avoiding being crushed.
Agony radiates through my body in sharp pulses, and I’m pretty sure I hear the Nephilim chuckle—a low, mocking sound that turns my stomach.
This is it.
I look death in the face. I think Finnick screams my name from behind me, but the world stops around me as everything moves in slow motion. Power burns bright in the creature's palm, demanding pain. “Deathhh to humannn,” it growls, the voice sounding like a million nails on a chalkboard.
I take a breath—maybe what will be my last.
A deadly blast leaves the Nephilim, aiming right at me. My last thought is of Niko and how devastated he’ll be. Maybe not because of my death, but rather what it means for him. That I failed him. Failed his kingdom.
I close my eyes, not wanting to watch my own death play out. Maybe that makes me a coward, but I don’t care. My body tenses, bracing for impact.
Except it never comes.
There’s a shout, quickly followed by a loud boom that jostles the entire room. My eyes fly open to see the Nephilim sprawled out across the floor, a large tree branch sticking out of his chest.
Finnick flies into view, still looking pale but not nearly as ghostly as before. “Are you okay? Eva, talk to me.”
“Did you—” My question dies in my throat as a shadow stretches over Finnick and me. We both glance up.
A man looms before us, tall and angular.
His black hair hangs in greasy strands around his sharp, drawn face.
There’s a certain handsomeness to his features—high cheekbones, full lips—but it’s dulled by the sunken hollows of his cheeks and the sickly pallor of his skin, like he could use a few extra meals.
His eyes, rimmed with dark circles, seem to drink in the light.
And though he’s dressed in decent clothes, they hang off his bony frame like they were borrowed from someone healthier.
He looks familiar.
His eyes meet mine with a gentle kindness. “Are you well, my friend?”
“I… Do I know you?” It’s a dumb question because I recognize him, but I don’t know how. I haven’t exactly gone out of my way to meet the fae here, and I doubt many of them know who I am, much less that I’m their friend.
His chapped lips pull into a faint smile. “Not well,” he says, voice low and reverent, “but you were kind. You healed me. You saved my life… so now, I will save yours.”
He bows low, and my breath catches.
Before he even speaks his name, recognition crashes into me like a tidal wave. My mind scrambles to make sense of it, but my heart already knows.
His eyes meet mine—grateful and achingly familiar. “My name is Jameson.”
And just like that, the world stops again.
Because standing beside me isn’t just some stranger. It’s him. Jameson, the dying fae I once fed alone when everyone else had turned their backs. I remember the way the curse had ravaged him—those black veins spreading like rot beneath his skin, the shallow breaths, the hopelessness in his eyes.
But now?
He’s alive. He’s walking. Magic hums around him, steady and growing in strength. There’s no trace of the curse. No pain. No decay.
He’s healed.
Because I healed him.
What the fuck?