Chapter 62
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
NIKANDER
Pain bloomed behind Nik’s eyes—dull at first, then piercing and insistent, like someone striking iron inside his skull.
Nausea churned in his gut, tipping the world sideways.
Rain fell in a steady mist, blurring edges and smearing shapes into indistinct forms. He squinted against the stinging light, but it only sharpened the headache.
Mud clung to his skin, while something warmer trickled from his temple.
Shapes shifted through the haze, and fragments of memory returned: the battlefield, the river splitting in two, Rasennans pouring from the shadows, luring Katell to the standing stones.
And then… nothing.
How long had he been out?
Nik forced himself upright, every movement carving fire through his ribs.
The stiff leather of his breastplate dug into his side, pain flaring with each inhale.
Gritting his teeth, he reached for the shoulder straps, fingers clumsy and damp with rain.
He tugged them free one by one, then wrestled with the cords lacing the sides, lungs straining with effort.
The armour gave way with a reluctant creak. He yanked it off, tossing it aside. Cold rain soaked through his tunic, but the pressure on his ribs eased.
Just ahead, Leukos slumped against a lichen-covered stone, body unnaturally still. One arm hung limp, the other clutched the hilt of a dagger buried just beneath his breastplate, lodged in the seam where leather failed to protect. Blood soaked the fabric and pooled beneath him.
Nik froze—until he caught the faintest rise and fall of Leukos’ chest.
Relief punched through him, sharp and fleeting. Leukos’ face was bone white, and the bleeding wasn’t stopping.
Shit.
Nik’s chest tightened with guilt. He’d let his own emotions take the lead against Katell. He should’ve guarded his prince better. But now wasn’t the time for regrets. He needed to get Leukos out of the rain, into a healer’s hands, or—
A flicker of movement across the circle pulled him up short.
Katell stood at the far edge of the stones, hand clamped around Alena’s throat, pinning her to a slab of grey limestone.
“No…” Nik rasped.
Before he could move, a burst of brilliant crimson light erupted from Katell, flooding the circle. Magic exploded in a blinding wave, the force so immense it pressed the world into silence.
Alena collapsed onto the rain-slick ground, mud splattering in messy arcs. One hand clutched her bruised throat as she fought for air. Her face was a ruin—one eye swollen shut, the other fixed on Katell. Even through the mist, the shock etched there was unmistakable.
Katell staggered back, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Her body quivered as the crimson light retreated, leaving a faint shimmer around her—a fading aura of raw power.
Nik had never seen her wield that kind of magic before.
Laran’s power. It had to be.
Her eyes were moss-green again—forest green, laced with gold. The colour that had haunted his dreams, uninvited, night after night. Now they were glassy, rimmed with tears. Shattered.
Bracing a hand on the rough stone behind him, Nik forced himself upright, every breath a searing pain. He had to reach her. Somehow, she’d broken free of Laran’s Tears, yet she looked utterly lost, as if dragged from a nightmare she couldn’t wake from.
Did she even remember? Did she know what she’d done since the Emperor had drowned her in that cursed pool?
Alena, slumped against the stone, extended a trembling hand. “Kat…”
Katell flinched. Her breath came in frantic bursts, eyes darting from Alena to Leukos’ bloodied form, then to Nik.
Horror washed over her face, slow and consuming.
She recoiled, stumbling back as if the sight of them scalded her. Her hands flew to her head, clutching her temples. “No,” she whispered. “No, no, no…”
Crimson light burst from her again, violently lashing the rain-slick air. It crackled and snapped, alive with panic.
Magic, spiralling out of control, defying even the ancient circle.
There could be no doubt—she was a demigoddess.
Nik’s pulse hammered. “Kat.”
He pushed forward, but pain tore through his ribs, stalling him with a grunt.
Twelve be damned!
Rain ran cold down his face. Katell’s crimson magic reflected off the wet stone like blood. He clutched his side and forced another step.
Her head snapped up. “Don’t! Stay away.”
Katell’s voice cracked with fear. She retreated, eyes wild, desperate for escape.
Like an animal cornered.
“Stay away!” she cried again, the magic around her pulsing in warning.
Alena heaved herself upright, despair etched across her battered face. “Kat, wait!”
But Katell didn’t stop. She stumbled out of the circle, heading straight towards the cliff’s edge and raging river below. Rain swallowed her silhouette, veiling her in mist until she was little more than a ghost moving through the storm.
“Kat!” But Nik’s shout was useless against the wind.
She didn’t turn.
He lurched forward. He couldn’t let her go—not like this.
Not with that hollow expression, as if her soul had shattered and she didn’t know how to hold the pieces together.
Pain flared through his body, but he no longer felt it.
All that mattered was her, slipping further from reach with every heartbeat.
Behind him, Alena struggled to rise, and Leukos wasn’t moving. Nik couldn’t abandon them in that state. They needed him. He needed to—
“Go.”
Nik’s head snapped to Leukos. The word was barely more than breath. Yet his prince was watching him, gaze unwavering. A slight twitch of his lips was the only sign of movement. “Go,” he whispered again.
Alena looked between them before her focus settled on Nik. Her hair clung to her skin, and beneath the blood, her face was drawn and pale. “Please…” she rasped. “Go after her.”
“But—”
Her hand lifted to the gold-and-bronze torc at her neck. Within the circle, it no longer shimmered. “The White Mare’s torc… It will heal us…”
Nik froze, chest burning with indecision, muscles screaming in pain. The wind shrieked between the ancient stones, drowning the battle’s distant echo.
He glanced back at Leukos.
Rain sluiced down his face, mingling with the blood leaking from his mouth, but he didn’t move to wipe it away. His breaths came shallow and too fast. Yet his stare held steady, locked on Nik with something like defiance. Or maybe it was faith.
If Nik left now, and Leukos didn’t survive…
Theo would never forgive him.
Pelagios would kill him.
And gods, wouldn’t he deserve it? Abandoning his friend—his prince—after everything they’d been through?
“Nik…” Alena whispered, pleading.
He couldn’t meet her gaze. He owed Alena his life and would do anything she asked, but he couldn’t risk fracturing his tenuous friendship with Leukos.
Not again.
But then Leukos moved. A slow, deliberate nod, though it clearly cost him.
There was no command in it.
Only trust.
Go, brother.
It shattered what little restraint Nik still clung to.
He staggered out of the circle, his Gift surging back into him, and he gasped a breath. Strength flooded his limbs.
Up ahead, Katell stood near the cliff’s edge, her silhouette stark against the storm-darkened sky.
She’d stripped off her black leather breastplate, discarded in the mud along with her leg greaves.
Wind tore at her hair, whipping it across her face as she stared down at the churning Rodanos far below.
Nik ran—or tried to.
His ribs blazed white-hot, each breath tearing through him like broken glass. Yet he forced his legs to move, magic propelling his battered body forward.
He reached Katell—and collapsed, cold mud swallowing his hands and knees, the taste of iron filling his mouth. A sharp gasp escaped as his side gave a sickening crunch. If his ribs weren’t broken before, they definitely were now.
Still, he raised his head.
Katell had turned just enough for him to see her face. Her eyes—wide, stricken—cut him to the core. Not the wild panic of battle. Not even the terrified stillness he’d witnessed when Aurelius chained her in the arena as a spectacle.
This was something worse.
She looked as though she no longer knew who she was.
“Stay away.” Her voice trembled, but her magic didn’t. Crimson fire flared and snapped around her, ragged pulses surging in the storm.
She stepped back towards the edge.
Nik’s heart stopped. She was going to jump.
The fall wouldn’t kill her—she was a demigoddess—but the river would take her away from him again.
And this time, she might never return.
Was it guilt driving her, the horror of what she’d done under Laran’s Tears? Or the fear of losing herself again? Maybe she thought jumping was the only way to keep them safe—from her, from the raging magic she couldn’t control.
The look of silent apology she gave him tore him to shreds. She was already slipping away, and there was nothing he could do to stop her.
Not like this.
Not broken, bleeding, half-collapsed on his knees.
All he had were words—words he should’ve spoken long ago, when they still mattered.
He wanted to tell her she was the fiercest, most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The first moment she’d stood in the arena, bloodied and unyielding, had sparked something inside his frozen heart. And when she’d defied Aurelius, refusing to bend, he’d remembered how it felt to hope.
He’d been a fucking fool. Even back in Tiryns, he’d let her go. Told her to send word if she needed him, when he should’ve gone with her.
But all that came out was a whisper, cracked and ruined. “Don’t go.”
For a breathless instant, the storm seemed to pause around them.
Katell stared at him, and for the first time since escaping the Tears’ influence, he truly saw her—not the weapon the Rasennans had twisted her into, not the broken shadow teetering on the edge, but her.
Katell, the Freefolk girl who’d once met his smart remarks with fire and fury, who’d fought with the ferocity of a lioness, defending those she loved without a second thought, even at her own cost.
She looked at him like someone watching a dream die. In that aching silence, her gaze revealed everything he’d almost lost and everything that might’ve been.
Then it was over.
Katell shook her head again and again, as if the motion alone could keep her from falling apart.
“I have the memories.” Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks.
“The memories—they all came back.” She clutched her head, nails digging into her scalp.
“You don’t understand… the things they made me do… ”
She trailed off, and Nik’s heart twisted. He did understand. He’d heard the reports: rebel camps turned to ash, the Eluvites slaughtered by the Makhai—men, women, children. The Rasennans had made her hurt those she’d always tried to save.
He reached for her anyway. “Kat—”
She flinched, retreating another step. Her heel hovered at the cliff’s edge now. “No. I’m dangerous. Stay away!”
“Don’t do this—”
“Tell Alena… it’s better this way. They won’t use me again. Tell her—” Her voice cracked.
He surged upright, ignoring the fire screaming through his ribs. “Kat, listen to me—”
But she didn’t. She took one final step back. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
Then she turned, and his hand snatched empty air as her silhouette disappeared over the cliff’s edge.
“Kat!” Nik peered over the brink, heart in his throat. Below, her dark form struck the churning river with a splash, then vanished into the roiling depths.
She’d survive the fall. She had to.
But he might not.
And by the Twelve, he didn’t care.
Reckless or not, he’d already sold his soul to the North Wind—might as well let the bastard collect early and save everyone the trouble.
“Hope you’re watching,” he muttered through gritted teeth, then jumped.
The wind shrieked in his ears, stealing the last of his warmth. He twisted midair, bracing for the impact. The river rushed up to meet him—
Then—pain.
Crushing, blinding pain exploded through him. The world splintered into cold and chaos. But it was nothing compared to the agony in his chest.
The agony of losing her again.
Once upon a time, a girl with a heart of gold had stormed into his broken life, seen the wreckage he’d become, and reached out anyway.
She’d made him believe in something better, but he’d let her walk away, heart burning with cowardice.
He’d told himself at least she’d be free, but it had always been a lie.
Now she was the one who was lost, slipping through his fingers, and he would not make the same mistake.
This time, he would bleed for her. Break for her. Follow her into the river, into the dark, into the very depths of Tartaros itself.
Because this time, he refused to let her go.