Chapter 8
KALLIE
Kallie gasped and choked on the air that filled her lungs.
Her fingers dug into the ground as her heart thumped within her chest, ricocheting against her ribcage. A blinding white light covered her vision. As she tried to blink it away, fragments of scenes bombarded her senses.
The images collided together, smashing into one another and shattering into pieces. One moment, arrows were whizzing past her. Then, Fynn appeared, peering at her with his soft brown eyes as a glittering waterfall roared behind him. A second later, fire poured from the ceiling.
Various scents tickled her nose: lavender, salt, smoke, charcoal, and burnt lumber.
As she tried to make sense of it all and distinguish reality from her nightmares, Kallie's head pounded, and her ears rang, the sound sharp and piercing. But beneath the incessant ringing, she heard something else.
Shouting.
Yelling.
The ting of metal clashing together.
Kallie squeezed her eyes together, willing the pain and noise to vanish, to free herself from whatever torment plagued her bones. But all it did was cause more pain to spike her head.
She tried to open her eyes, but her eyelids were too heavy, as were her body and mind. Still, she took a deep breath and forced herself to focus. She tried to concentrate on her senses.
When she inhaled again, she noticed the smell of iron and moss tainting the air.
She identified the chaotic clang of metal, the grunts, and the nonsensical shouts that filled the air amidst the fray of battle.
She could feel her heart hammering in her chest.
Then, when she focused harder, she felt sharp prickles poking her palms. She wiggled her fingers, and her brows twisted together.
Was that...grass?
Why was there grass? Why was she outside? Her wedding was the last thing she could remember clearly as her mind finally stopped spinning. She should have been in the temple marrying Rian. She should have--
Then Kallie recalled the heat of the flames as a fire spread across the temple and chaos erupted.
Had someone taken her outside? Had the temple burned down?
Slowly regaining control over her muscles, Kallie swiped her palm across the thin blades, trying to ground herself as she finally peeled her eyes open. Clouds filled the sky, and the sun shone down, blinding her. No smoke in sight.
Before she could adjust to the brightness, darkness filled her vision once more.
Her head lolled to the side, and she blinked.
A bead of blood dripped from a blade of grass, bending under the weight of it.
Kallie's eyes darted from left to right, her vision blurring with fear. She tried to scream, but her voice was gone, her throat too dry to produce a sound.
Was the blood hers?
Someone else's?
She couldn't tell. She didn't know.
Her body was heavy, too heavy as if she had been asleep for days. Her chest rose, her lungs expanding. It was all too much.
She was losing control.
Deep breaths, she told herself. Deep, slow breaths. Control it. Fight it.
The ringing in her ears slowed, and the sound of grunts and groans surrounded her, drowning her.
Kallie tried to push herself up but struggled to move her limbs. She tried to call out, but the words refused to leave her tongue, her mouth sealed shut.
A flash of metal whizzed by as someone ran past her.
"Behind you!" someone shouted, the voice familiar and sending a chill down her spine.
A whistle kissed the air, sharp and crisp, followed by a loud thud .
Black muddied boots stopped in front of her face, sending a plume of dirt flying into the air.
Kallie twisted her head up, trying to make sense of what was happening around her. Her gaze trailed over light brown trousers, stained and soiled.
Silver flashed, swiping through the air--a blade.
Then a grunt.
And Kallie screamed--or at least tried to. The noise that slipped from her raw throat was mangled.
She stared at the spot beside the pair of mud-covered boots as a head slapped upon the ground and rolled toward her, the eyes of the victim wide open and staring at her, lifeless.
Vibrant blood pooled on the ground as yet another head appeared next to her, the rest of the corpse falling to the ground shortly after in a heap.
The boots turned, and a shout ripped through the air, "Graeson!"
Kallie's lungs collapsed. Her heart thumped in her chest as a surge of panic crept up her throat.
"Shit," another man growled in a low voice as more boots pounded on the ground and swords clanged together.
She couldn't just sit here.
Not if Graeson was here.
She had to do something.
Her father would want her to do something.
Kallie pushed through the soreness coating her bones and moved past the heaviness soaking her limbs.
The scene unfolded before her: men and women fought all around her, their faces glistening with sweat and their muscles straining. Almost immediately, she found Graeson among the fray, as if some inexplicable, magnetic force she could not deny pulled her toward him.
The sunlight struck his jet-black hair as he wielded his scimitars as though they were an extension of him. Dirt and gore stained his clothes, though Kallie knew unequivocally that none of it belonged to him. He was too skilled for that.
She mustered the strength to lift herself up and onto her elbows. While she may have admired his technique, Kallie only felt one thing as she stared at Graeson: absolute rage.