Chapter 35 #2
I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming, because fresh agonizing pain raced down my arm, firing through my nerves.
And then suddenly, it stopped. I gasped, sweat coating my forehead as the arm straightened and once again hung at the correct angle.
I tried to move my fingers. I could. The arm wasn’t broken, but it wasn’t exactly healed either, and probably wouldn’t be for days.
It was still tender, painfully so, and sore.
But it was enough to withstand the weight of a sword.
Enough to know that if I went down in this battle, at least I’d go down fighting.
Gritting my teeth, I took my right hand, and pressed it to the left, to the stab wound cutting through it. Light moved through my veins to my palm, and the wound closed. The bleeding stopped.
But now the akadim were closing in on us.
“I did it,” I panted, “but I don’t think it’s enough. My arm’s still weak.”
“Better weak than broken. Here,” Auriel said, placing the sword in my hands.
I nearly dropped it, and bit back another cry of pain, as I lifted up the red shard.
“Move aside,” Auriel commanded. “This is Lyriana Batavia, and your Arkturion gave orders not to touch her.”
“That’s not going to work,” said a voice in the dark. “Not this time.”
Because Rhyan was gone. Because his command couldn’t be enforced.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart clenching. Until there was a bang right behind us.
“Run!” Auriel yelled, taking my hand. His sword was out, ready to attack, but the akadim began running in terror. The ground was shuddering and shaking, more rocks were rolling toward us.
I looked back and gasped in horror.
The Wall of the Prince had collapsed. The cave was gone. The mines. And Rhyan. He was gone now. All of him was gone.
Auriel slammed us against a tree. Most of the akadim were still running—trying to get away from the chaos. But dozens were lined up in front of us, their eyes glowing with violence.
I held my sword higher, my arm crying out in pain, and gritted my teeth.
“What now?” I asked, my body shaking.
“We fight and we—” He cried out in pain, bending over. An emerald green light emanated from his body—it seemed to have started under his armor, coming from his heart.
“What’s happening?” I asked, helping him back up.
“I don’t—I … Fuck!” He cried out, the light grew brighter, shimmering with starlight.
“Auriel?” I frowned, only then realizing that he had told me he’d uncovered the green shard, but I hadn’t seen it anywhere. Not in his hands, not strapped to his body or armor.
Because I realized at that moment it was his armor. It was shaped identically to what he’d worn since he found me—a golden vest that covered his torso. But this one had a green interior.
“It’s the shard. Your armor’s the shard.”
He nodded. “It is. But I’m not doing this. I’m not controlling it—aaah!”
The light began to blaze, growing so bright, even I had to look away. The akadim that had cornered us started to retreat, their silhouettes shrinking into the shadows as they growled in pain and cursed.
It was working. It was fucking working.
And then, all at once, the light vanished and Auriel’s voice broke as he moaned in pain, sinking to his knees.
“Auriel?” I asked, sinking beside him. “Auriel?” Our eyes met.
I reached for his arms, sliding my hands down his skin, checking his chest and stomach for injuries—but his armor was intact.
“What happened?” I asked frantically, my hands and eyes desperately searching him all over. “Are you hurt? I can’t find a wound.”
“I’m not injured,” he said, but he sounded weak, like his energy was gone.
I stood up, and grabbed his arms, again hauling him back to his feet.
He stumbled back, slamming into the tree behind us. He leaned his head against the trunk and closed his eyes, his brows furrowed, sweat pouring down from his forehead. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
“What?” I asked. “Tell me. Tell me what to do! I’ll heal you. I’ll heal you.”
I placed my hands on his face. But he flickered. Vanishing completely and returning. It was like that first night when I was dreaming. Seeing the Guardian of Bamaria’s head vanish and reappear.
“AURIEL!”
His chest heaved and he reached for my hands, pushing them down, his face tight in pain.
“Lyriana,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t … I don’t think I can stay any longer.”
“No!” I cried. “You can’t go. Auriel, you can’t leave me. I’ll fix it. Okay. It’s going to be okay.” I pulled out my stave, pointing it to his chest, and squeezed his hand. His fingers threaded through mine, squeezing back, only barely.
The akadim were starting to close in on us again, now that the light was gone. Now that Auriel had nothing to threaten them with.
Once more he vanished from sight and reappeared. His eyes had been pale since he found me at Rhyan’s side. And now, the blond in his hair was losing its golden shine.
He was fading, fading before my very eyes. He lost his balance, and fell against me. And for the first time ever since I’d seen him, he didn’t look like a God. He looked ... mortal. I wrapped my arms around him.
“Auriel,” I cried. “Auriel, please.” My voice. “Please don’t go. I’ll heal you. I swear I will.” And I was trying, pouring everything I had into him with my touch, imagining him healthy, strong and glowing. A God restored.
He pulled back, meeting my eyes and shook his head slowly, the movement labored, like it was taking all of his energy. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
My chest heaved. No. No. No. It was exactly what Rhyan had said to me after he’d been stripped, when he was—when he was—
“You’re not dying,” I cried.
“No. I’m not. I’m a God, remember?” He winked. “I wasn’t born. I can’t die. But my time here is up. I-I’m done. It’s not … not allowed anymore. The Council says it’s done. I can’t stay here with you.” A tear rolled down his cheek.
“It’s not done!” I cried. “It’s not.” I was going to kill the Council when I found them.
He brushed my hair back, his hand sliding down my ear, and then to my neck, dipping lower. His fingers shifted over Asherah’s chest plate, stopping when his palm was over my heart.
“It was … wonderful to be alive again, and to be alive with you. But I can’t,” he swallowed roughly. “I can’t stay.” He smiled sadly. “Lyriana. Mekara.”
“No! Auriel!” My heart stopped beating.
“Even you can’t heal me now,” he said. Then his smile widened, and his eyes were no longer seeing me. They seemed to be looking through me—to something beyond me. “Asherah,” he whispered.
“Auriel!”
But he was gone. My hands clutched at nothing but the air.
His weapons and armor, the green shard, all fell to the ground where he’d stood. All that was left of him now. All he’d come down with had vanished with him.
I was alone. Completely alone. Rhyan was gone. Auriel, too.
And a dozen hungry akadim stood before me.
For a split second, I was still, my chest heaving.
My nostrils flared, every part of me shaking as I held up the red shard and shouted. “Get back!”
But several of them stepped forward, and within seconds, I was surrounded.
I grabbed one of Auriel’s swords, and though I wasn’t healed, I raced forward, slashing with both arms, slicing through stomachs and shoulders and hands and pushing back every akadim that came near me.
I felt out of control, blinded by my grief and rage.
I could barely keep track of who I’d fought and who I hadn’t because they just kept coming and coming. And I kept fighting.
Until I was attacked from behind. An akadim wrapped its arms around my waist and hauled me into the air, as the others gathered, grabbing my legs and arms. My weapons were taken and thrown to the ground, including the red shard.
“No!” Then I yelled out for help, pleading, begging for anyone to hear me, for anyone to send aid in any way they could, in any realm. But no one did. Not here in Korteria, and not beyond.
The akadim just laughed at me, tugging at my hands, and tearing at my cloak and boots.
I screamed again even though I knew I was alone.
It was over. No one was coming Maybe my cries would reach someone in town.
Maybe someone would hear me, someone would hear me scream, and at least, in some small way, bear witness to my end.
At least, I’d know I tried. Tried to survive.
Like Auriel wanted. Like I knew Rhyan would have.
So I sucked in a breath, my lungs filling with air as the akadim clawed and grabbed at me.
The next scream that tore through me encompassed all of the fire inside, all of the power that remained.
All that was in my soul, in this life, in all my lives.
The scream that relayed the horror I felt at being brought to this point, to this ending. I poured it all in, screaming it out.
Crying. My fury, my anger, my pain, my rage. My fear.
And my love.
It was primal and ancient, and when I finished I was met with the silence of the night. The blowing of the wind through my hair, the twinkling of the stars above, the shifting of clouds in the sky. For a moment, even the akadim had gone quiet.
And then somewhere in the utter silence and stillness of the dark, someone called back to me. One word. My name. “LYR!”
I gasped, my stomach dropping. No. No. It couldn’t be. He was dead. I’d stabbed him, I’d killed him. I’d watched his body go still. He was ... He was—
“LYR!”
The akadim holding me started to panic and suddenly, half of the beasts who’d been grabbing me turned, shifting into formation, their backs to me, creating a line of defense against the oncoming threat.
“Put me down!” I yelled. “Put me down!”
“LYR!” Rhyan screamed, tearing through the meadow.
An akadim ran out to meet him, his claws slashing in the air, but Rhyan slashed back and the akadim fell.
He took down the next, and the next, butting his head into the demon.
It collapsed to the ground. He spun on his heels and kicked, his boot crushing the beast in the belly.
The next one he lifted by the shoulders and flung him to the ground.
Rhyan bared his teeth, his fangs glistening in the moonlight.
The akadim released me, rushing to attack Rhyan next.
He leaped onto Rhyan, claws extending to his face.
But Rhyan slammed his head into the monster’s, rolled him onto his back, and punched him in the nose, again and again, before he stood, and kicked him aside, like he was nothing.
Heart pounding, I reached down, blindly reaching for the red shard until my fingers felt the cool metal of the hilt, and tightened around it. I stood, brandishing the blade in my shaking hands.
All but two of the remaining akadim had fallen. Their bodies were scattered through the meadow. And together the last demons ran for Rhyan, each one grabbing an arm. He was hauled back, growling and roaring and screaming my name.
His eyes met mine, red and glowing. But he broke free of their hold, and suddenly he had become the one holding down their arms. With a snap of his wrists, he pulled them in front of him, and bashed their heads together.
They crumpled to the ground on either side of him.
And then he ran for me, his movements feral.
I held the sword higher, my hands trembling.
“Lyriana,” he said, stopping just in front of me. And this time when he said my name, it was his voice. Rhyan’s voice. Soft, and lilted, and human and alive. Not akadim. Not akadim.
“Lyr!” he cried. He stepped in toward me, and sank to his knees, his arms wrapping around my legs, his hold tightening.
A shuddering gasp escaped my lips, my heart racing, my body trembling.
His shoulders shook. He was crying, burying his face against my thighs. Like he was trying to crawl inside of me.
Slowly, I removed one hand from the sword, and lowered it down as I reached for his hair, stroking my hand through his curls.
They were soft again. Like they used to be.
Like they were when he was alive. My heart pounded, ready for him to jump up suddenly and knock me over, to finish our fight in the cave.
But his shoulders only shook harder, his tears soaking through my riding pants.
“R-Rhyan?” I asked.
He looked up at me then, his chest heaving with such force, I thought he was hyperventilating. Then he stilled. His eyes met mine. Emerald light shone in them. Green. Not red. Green! The green I’d dreamt of, the green I’d loved since I was a girl. His eyes. Rhyan’s eyes.
“Lyr,” he sobbed, his mouth opening in a cry of agony. No fangs. They were gone. Just his straight white teeth. His features were so familiar, so like I remembered, like I knew with my heart, it felt like I’d been stabbed in the chest.
I sank to my knees before him, and took his hands in mine.
The claws were gone. His fingernails were back, the pads of his fingers round and callused.
And the red lines that marked his akadim body, the lines which appeared when his skin had been forced to stretch to fit his new height and size, were gone.
His face … it was his face. Human, kind, beautiful.
Alive. Gods. Even his scar was back, slicing through his left eyebrow, tapering off at the edge of his cheek.
One eyebrow furrowed. The right one. The only one that could move.
I cupped his cheeks, his skin soft, and warm. His eyes moved back and forth watching me, taking me in, only red now in the corners, because he was crying. Because he couldn’t stop crying. Because the tears wouldn’t stop rolling down his cheeks.
“Rhyan? Is it you? Is it really you? You’re here with me?”
“I am.” He nodded. “I’m here.”
I blinked, my chest so tight it hurt.
The cure. It worked. His soul was back.
He was alive.
“Lyr,” he sobbed, hugging me again, his arms crushing me to him. “By the Gods, Lyr. You found me.” And then his lips were on mine.