Chapter 26 #2
Riona fell to her knees beside him, her hands trembling as she pressed against his wounds, trying to stop the flow of blood. “No, no, no. Emry, stay with me!” she begged, her voice breaking.
His gaze found hers, the usual spark of mischief in his eyes now soft and fading. “Riona,” he rasped, his voice barely audible. “You always… looked beautiful in silver.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks as she shook her head. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you dare leave me!”
Emry’s bloodied hand reached up, brushing lightly against her face. His lips curved into the faintest smile before his eyes closed, his hand falling limp in hers.
No!” Riona screamed, her voice raw as she held him tightly. The world around her blurred, the sounds of the battle fading beneath the weight of her grief.
“Riona, move!” Eirin’s shout snapped her back.
He towered above her, his glaive dripping with blood as he fought off another wave of creatures. “We have to go now!”
Sorcha arrived moments later, the sight before her came like a blow to the face. Riona held Emry’s lifeless body, her silver gown stained red.
“Riona…” Sorcha whispered, stepping closer. “Don’t!” Riona snapped, her tear streaked face twisting with fury. “You should have been here! You should have stopped this!”
Kyron looked at Sorcha, his gaze softening as he saw the anguish etched on her face.
Riona’s words had cut deeper than anything Sorcha had just endured.
The world seemed to stop around her. In that moment, all she could hear and see was Riona’s agony, the sheer, all-consuming pain that tore through her as she cradled Emry’s broken body.
The weight of Riona’s accusation pressing down on her, suffocating her.
“You should have been here. You should have stopped this.”
The words echoed endlessly, swirling through her mind, choking the air from her lungs.
It all moved in slow motion, the chaos of the battlefield muted against the crushing grief.
Riona clinging to Emry, her trembling hands stained with his blood, her sobs silent to Sorcha’s ears.
The others fought desperately to finish off the remaining Fomorians, their weapons glinting with flashes of blood swirling around her.
Kyron looked to Sorcha and began moving through the fray.
His eyes lit like bottled lightning as he wielded the mist with deadly force, choking the life from the creatures that remained.
He called for more as the mist grew, skeleton-like hands snapped necks like twigs while others suffocated on gray matter that crept into their mouths.
As the last body fell, Kyron collapsed to the ground, the exhaustion of his efforts overtaking him. Sorcha began to sprint toward Kyron but he raised a hand and shook his head as he pointed to Riona.
Sorcha’s gaze drifted back to Riona, whose lips moved in frantic, anguished words. Sorcha could see her speaking, could feel the weight of her grief and fury, but she couldn’t hear her.
The battlefield blurred, yet one image remained seared into her mind Riona’s tear-streaked face, bent over Emry’s still form, the light in his eyes extinguished forever.
Sorcha fell to her knees beside Riona, her hands trembling as she reached out. Her voice was raw, breaking with every word. “Riona, I’m so sorry… I tried. I tried with everything I had to find you, to fight—”
Riona cut her off sharply, her voice trembling with fury and despair. “He’s gone, Sorcha. He’s gone. The only person in this world who loved me and he’s gone.”
Her words struck Sorcha again, stealing the breath from her lungs.
Riona’s hands trembled as she cupped Emry’s face, pressing her forehead to his.
Her lips brushed against his blood-streaked brow, her tears falling onto his lifeless skin.
She rocked gently, murmuring words only he could hear, her grief too profound for anyone else to touch.
The group circled around them, their eyes heavy with tears, their sobs muffled by the weight of the moment.
Eirin stepped forward, his deep voice steady but laced with sorrow.
“Riona,” he said gently, “we can’t leave him here.
He has to be moved. Let us carry him to the medical ward. ”
Riona shook her head violently, her body curling protectively around Emry. “No,” she said, her voice cracking. “No one touches him. No one.”
Sorcha’s throat tightened as she forced herself to speak, her voice quiet, pleading. “Riona… Eirin’s right. We can’t leave him here. Please. We’ll take care of him. I swear it.”
Riona’s head snapped up, her tear streaked face twisted with anguish. “No! No one touches him!” she cried, her voice raw with desperation.
Eirin knelt beside her, his expression solemn, his honey-colored eyes glistening with unshed tears. Rhosyn and Drystan joined him, their movements slow and deliberate, their faces etched with understanding and grief.
Eirin placed a hand gently on Riona’s shoulder, his voice soft but firm. “We’ll carry him. All of us.
Together. I promise you, Riona, we’ll honor him.”
For a moment, Riona said nothing, her body trembling as she clung to Emry. Then, her sobs broke free, wracking her frame as she lowered her head to his chest.
The group stayed with her, silent and unwavering, their shared sorrow binding them together in the darkest of hours.
Riona kissed Emry one last time, her lips trembling against his cold skin. She whispered something meant only for him, her voice breaking as the words fell softly between them. Gently, she placed his head down, her fingers lingering for a moment before she stepped back.
She stood trembling, her entire body shaking as she looked at him, lifeless and still. The sight broke her all over again. The scream filled the air and seemed to shred the world to pieces.
Leaders from other Circles, townspeople, cadets, and officers alike turned their gaze to her, their expressions heavy with shared understanding. They stood amid the battlefield, now a mass graveyard, their grief palpable in the quiet that followed.
Eirin, Drystan, and Mason knelt beside Emry, their movements slow and deliberate as they lifted his body with great care. Sorcha moved to help, her hands trembling as she reached for him, her face streaked with tears.
Behind them, Riona stood motionless, her shoulders heaving with silent sobs.
Rhosyn placed a steadying hand on her back, standing with her.
Once at the medical ward, Sorcha remembered that Commander Nethran was dying, and panic seized her.
She turned to the others, her words tumbling out in a rush as she explained that she needed to find a healer immediately.
Without waiting for a response, she bolted through the ward, her voice echoing as she screamed for a healer.
A young woman, barely sixteen, appeared in her path.
Sorcha didn’t have time to ask questions or assess her qualifications, only if she practiced healing.
The urgency of the situation left no room for doubt.
The healer understood immediately, disappearing behind a door and returning with a pack filled with supplies. She spoke calmly but firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Lead the way quickly.”