48. Chapter 48 #2
Then Drae's imposing form rose over the top of the debris, the tips of his black ears giving way to his enormous head.
Evric recoiled, his hand flying to his sword belt instinctively.
But Vaelin flung out an arm, staying his hand.
A tense moment passed as Evric and the Shifter stared at one another, a muscle jumping in Evric's jaw. Isla’s heart thumped hard in her chest.
Then Drae slowly lowered his massive head, setting his forehead against the opposite side of the slab of stone.
And waited. Vaelin was the first to move, reaching again for the stone and preparing to pull as the Shifter pushed.
He looked to Evric, his expression unreadable.
With what appeared to be a great effort, Evric took up his own position.
Together, the fae pulled as the massive muscles in Drae's upper back bunched, and he pushed, loosing a roar that rattled Isla's teeth and seemed to roll through the dunes.
A discordant grinding sound split the air and Evric and Vaelin leapt backward as the stone crashed to the ground before them, cracking down the middle.
Drae dropped below the remaining debris, only to reappear moments later, Aurelia clinging to his back.
Drae scaled the debris easily, prowling down the other side to halt before them all.
Aurelia slid from his back, leaning her weight against his powerful body, her legs threatening to buckle as her feet hit the sand.
Evric’s jaw was tight, knuckles white on the hilt of his dagger, but he nodded his begrudging thanks at the Shifter, reaching an arm out to help steady Aurelia.
Drae exhaled with a noise that sounded strangely like a scoff.
“We’ve got company,” Vaelin rumbled, voice deep in his chest.
Isla turned back to The City, and her blood ran cold, relief snuffed out like a candle.
The sun rose over what remained of the rise, a crimson ball of fire in the sky, casting everything in an ominous tinge of red, and she shuddered in horror as she watched a renewed wave of the Hollowborne form.
They moved like a single unit, advancing toward them from all sides.
They bled from cracks in the city walls, stretching over the rubble.
To the west of The City, shadows emerged like black ink stains, dotting the rolling dunes, seeming to rise from the sands themselves.
“Fall back,” Vaelin barked, his voice ragged but sharp with command.
Wordlessly, they moved farther into the open dunes where they could not be trapped by fallen debris or easily separated. But there were so many. Too many. Isla’s stomach pitched as she realized this was it — the inevitable moment from the vision she’d shared with Vaelin on the Skybridge.
Isla’s grip on her flaming sword tightened, even as the muscles in her arm trembled from the sustained effort of wielding it.
She looked to her left where Drae stood, now back in his human form, his skin crackling with fissures of flame, barking a grim laugh as challenge danced in his red eyes.
Beside him, Aurelia had lowered to the earth, sinking her hands deep under the sands.
Her hair stood on end, the air around her seeming to crackle with power as she prepared to wrench the earth in their advantage.
On Aurelia’s other side, Evric stood, balls of searing fire roaring in each hand, having sheathed his dagger in favour of pure, undiluted magic.
Liquid flame lit his veins beneath his skin, eyes sparking.
The wind shifted then, a gentle breeze brushing Isla’s cheek like a caress even as a powerful gust roared to life around them. And she turned to face Vaelin.
He stood at her side, a veritable hurricane of wind blowing around them, shielding them all as best he could.
His steel was in hand, still wreathed in flame, and his eyes glowed silver with power as his dark hair shifted in the wind he wielded.
He looked like one of the Gods. His eyes met hers, the intensity that burned there stunning her.
The corner of his lip quirked upward in a grim smile, but his jaw stayed tight. Her chest squeezed painfully.
It was over, before it had even begun, and she mourned the loss of what they might have had. And maybe it was never meant to be. But he would have given her everything, she knew — everything he could, everything he was. If only they’d had the time.
“Isla!”
Isla heard the voice call her name, and even though she’d known it was coming, the recognition tore through her like a jagged blade. She snapped her head around so fast the muscles in her neck shrieked in protest.
No.
Isla watched in horror as Lyra clambered through the same gap in the wall they had used to leave The City, tugging on her robes as they snagged on jagged stone.
"No," Isla thought again, surprised to hear she had spoken the word aloud. "No!” and she yelled it this time, her voice breaking.
And the Hollowborne descended. Dark mists obscured their vision despite Vaelin’s efforts to scatter it with his wind, and a blanket of shadow seemed to fall, leaving Isla alone in the darkness.
A low laugh threaded through the mists, and Isla spun, brandishing her sword in its direction.
It was the same laugh, the same voice, that had called to her in the sandcaves and outside of Vathansa.
The shadows that enveloped her seemed to ease, as though the creature had backed away from her flaming blade, but they didn’t lift entirely.
She swung her head left and right, muscles tense as a bowstring as she searched for a target.
They’d been taunting her - luring her - this whole time, she realized.
The sand shifted beneath her feet and she whirled, slicing at the shadows that pressed in on her once again, trying desperately to scatter them enough to see Lyra.
“Isla, I’ve been looking for you.”
Oren’s voice drifted through the shadows toward her and she staggered, shocked at the familiarity and the wrongness of it.
She faltered, distracted enough that a shadowy blade passed within inches of her arm, but a wall of flame barrelled between her and the Hollowborne, deflecting the shadows’ blows and causing them to scatter, screeching unhappily.
As the mists dissipated, Evric nodded at her, his eyes and veins aglow with liquid fire.
“Isla!”