Chapter 63
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
ALENA
Nik vanished between two lichen-covered stones, swallowed by mist and distance, and the tightness in Alena’s chest loosened at last.
After days of planning, of fear, of nearly dying at her sister’s hands, she had done it. Katell was free—cut loose from the Rasennans’ grip. It was the best Alena could do for her. Now the rest was up to Katell, but at least she had Nik. He would keep her safe.
Alena had to believe that.
She had done everything she could for her sister, but there was no time to linger on relief. Now she had to focus on Leukos—on saving her husband.
Even through the rain and haze of pain, she found him. Leukos was slumped against a standing stone, Katell’s dagger jutting from his side, buried between the laces of his armour. Blood soaked his tunic. It gushed down his ribs, dark and swift, pooling beneath him like an ever-growing shadow.
“Leukos…”
She tried to crawl towards him, but her body rebelled. Sharp agony lanced through her muscles where Katell’s blows had landed. Her shoulder shrieked with each movement, and she bit back a cry.
“Alena…” Leukos’ voice was a rasp, barely more than breath.
“I’m here,” she gasped. “Just—hold on.”
She dragged herself towards the edge of the circle, hands digging into mud and blood.
Her mother’s torc might be useless now—like all Gifts within the circle—but if she could cross the boundary, escape the ring, the White Mare’s magic would heal her.
Then she could use her Gifts to call for help and save him.
The goddess’ words rang like a distant bell in her mind, echoing through the fog of pain: And when the time comes, it will heal one of your loved ones.
She hadn’t understood then, but she did now.
The goddess had meant Leukos. She had known he’d sacrifice himself for her.
It was her turn to save him.
Alena’s fingers clawed at the soaked earth, hauling herself forward. Mud smeared her arms and face, and her body cried out with every inch she gained, pain blooming in sharp, relentless bursts through her shoulder and ribs.
A low rumble rolled overhead, but it wasn’t thunder.
War horns.
The rain began to ease. The clouds receded, exposing patches of blue sky above.
“What happened?” she asked, blinking up at the light. “Was that… the tribes?”
“Yes,” Leukos rasped. “They’re retreating.”
“No…” Alena’s breath hitched. She tried to lift her head, but the agony in her neck forced her back down. “By the Moon… have we lost?”
The silence that followed spoke louder than any answer.
“You have to go,” Leukos said. Each word was a battle, his breath thinning.
But the edge of the circle was just ahead. With a final, desperate lurch, Alena heaved herself over it.
Heat surged from the torc at her throat, spreading in waves through her body. It burned at first, then dissolved into a golden warmth that seeped into her torn muscles and battered ribs.
She collapsed face-down in the mud, her cheek pressed against the cold earth. Grit stung her skin, blood and rain mixing in her mouth. With a groan, she turned her head—just enough to find Leukos.
He remained slumped against the standing stone, paler than she’d ever seen. Through the downpour, his gaze caught hers—sharp with pain, yet burning with a stubborn light.
“I’m not leaving you,” she whispered fiercely.
The White Mare’s magic kept threading through her. The stabbing pain in her shoulder dulled, then ebbed entirely. Her chest eased. The fog of agony lifted, leaving behind the dizzying relief of a body knitting itself whole.
She drew in a breath that didn’t burn.
And then, out of nowhere, the tether she had thought severed roared back into her mind. Her bond with the wolves surged, a chorus howling through the dark.
Help me, she cried to any who could hear her. Find a healer. Save Leukos. Please.
Leukos coughed, blood flecking his lips. His head lolled slightly. “The Rasennans will be here soon,” he choked out. “You know they’ll come for you.”
“Leukos—”
“I don’t care what they do to me… but you can’t let them take you.”
“No—”
“Listen to me,” he said, forcing strength into every word. “The Rasennans can’t find you. You have to go. You have to survive.”
Her hands sank into the mud as she pushed herself upright. “I didn’t leave you at the Green Mountains’ hillfort,” she gasped, trembling. “And I’ll be damned if I leave you now.”
She staggered to her feet, limbs screaming in protest, blood dripping from her fingers. Her vision blurred—but her eyes never left his.
“You’re my husband,” she said through clenched teeth. “My soulmate. And you will not die. I forbid it.”
She skirted the edge of the stones and stepped back into the circle, severing the White Mare’s magic in an instant. The warmth fled her body, replaced by the icy sting of returning pain—but she didn’t care.
She was healed enough.
Now, if she could only drag Leukos out, the torc would do the same for him.
She fell to her knees before him, mud splattering her legs. But the moment her gaze landed on his wound, her stomach turned to stone.
The dagger was buried to the hilt, rammed through the gap in his breastplate and deep into his gut. Blood soaked everything—his tunic, the stone behind him, her hands.
She couldn’t drag him. She couldn’t move him or she risked killing him faster.
The truth struck like a hammer blow: she couldn’t save him. The weight of it split her heart, cracking wide open. But it was the look in his eyes that truly broke her.
He had known. From the instant the blade struck, he’d known he couldn’t be saved…
“No…” A sob tore free. Her hands cupped his face, slick with rain and blood.
“Alena—”
“Don’t—don’t speak,” she begged. Tears blurred everything, but her body moved anyway, driven by sheer instinct. With fumbling fingers, she yanked the dagger from her belt and sawed a strip from his cloak. She pressed the makeshift bandage to his side, forcing it tight against the wound.
“Here.” She guided his trembling hands down, her own slippery with blood. “Hold it. You have to hold it. Do you hear me? Press.”
He obeyed, but barely. His breaths came shallow, uneven. His focus wavered, drifting past her.
“Stay with me.” Her breath hitched on every ragged inhale. “Just hold on. Please.”
He managed a faint, broken smile. “I’m sorry, love… I couldn’t keep our promise.”
We live to fight another day.
“You’re not breaking it.” She shook her head, knotting the makeshift bandage tighter.
But the linen was already darkening, blood pulsing through her hands. Panic shot through her, wild and sharp. Her gaze darted to the circle’s edge—should she run? Call for help?
But if she left… if she came back to only his body—
No. No, he was still breathing. If the knife had struck a vital organ, he’d already be gone. Wouldn’t he?
The agony of indecision tore at her. Stay. Go. Stay—
Cool fingertips brushed her cheek, stilling her. She turned.
Leukos was watching her, his features carved from shadow and moonlight: high cheekbones, sharp jawline, dark hair plastered to his brow by rain and sweat. Despite the pain, his eyes held hers, steady.
As if memorising her.
Alena couldn’t look away. Even broken and bleeding, he was still beautiful.
“After you left, I was always thinking of you,” he breathed. “Morning… day… night. I wished for Nik’s Gift—just once—so I could find you… I would’ve made a pact with Laran himself… if it meant reaching you.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving warm trails over her cold skin.
This wasn’t happening.
She was the Omega, chosen by the gods. What was the point of having all these Gifts if she couldn’t save her soulmate?
Why hadn’t she been selfish for once and taken a healer’s Gift?
She leaned in, resting her forehead against his, words breaking apart. “You said you’d fight for me until the end… This isn’t the end. Do you hear me? I’m going to get help. I’ll find a healer. You just… you just have to hold on.”
“No…” The sound barely stirred from his lips. “You need to hide…”
“I don’t care about hiding,” she choked out. “Not if it means losing you. I can’t do this alone. Please don’t ask me to.” She kissed him—soft, desperate—like she could breathe strength back into his broken body. “I love you,” she whispered. “Always.”
For a heartbeat, she clung to him—hand cradling his cheek, their faces pressed together.
Then, with a strangled sob, she pulled away and forced herself upright. The world lurched; black spots swam at the edges of her vision. Pain flared where her wounds pulled, but she drove herself forward, refusing to yield.
She ran. Staggered a few steps when movement flickered at the edge of her vision. Instinct stopped her cold.
“Well, isn’t this quite the tragedy?”
A figure emerged from between the standing stones. The Rasennan officer’s leather cuirass hugged his frame, but the cloak billowing behind him wasn’t red—it was imperial purple. His stare pinned her in place. For a disorienting heartbeat, her breath caught.
The resemblance was unmistakable. High cheekbones. The set of his jaw. The shape of his mouth.
He could’ve been Leukos’ reflection.
But it wasn’t him.
It was Galen—Leukos’ brother.
“Gods,” he drawled, surveying the scene with feigned pity. “She’s put you both in a sorry state, hasn’t she?”
“Galen…” Leukos rasped from behind, barely audible.
The man didn’t flinch. His gaze slid over his dying brother without a flicker of recognition. “It’s Velthur, now,” he corrected, the words stripped of warmth.
Alena’s heart thundered in her chest.
This was the man who’d helped Leywani. Who’d passed them information about the legions’ movements. He was their ally… wasn’t he?
Alena edged a step closer, driven by desperation. Now wasn’t the time to untangle truth from deceit. Leukos was bleeding out behind her. “Please… he’s your brother. If you don’t help, he’ll die. We’ll do whatever you want. Just… save him.”
Velthur tilted his head, as if weighing her plea. “Save him?” His tone was almost tender. “Alena, darling, you misunderstand.”
Then he moved closer, his cuirass polished to a mirror sheen, untouched by the muck and blood that coated everything else. Each step was measured, deliberate—a predator closing the gap.
Up close, the resemblance to Leukos was uncanny. But where Leukos’ eyes held flecks of ice-blue, carrying strength and pride, Velthur’s were a void—black, fathomless, glinting with greedy intelligence and a cruelty that relished her fear.
“We didn’t come for him.” A thin smile curved his lips. “We came for you.”
Alena’s blood froze in her veins.
From behind him, another figure appeared—a blonde woman cloaked in shadow.
The same legate Alena had seen at the base of the cliff, weaving darkness into portals to flood the battlefield with soldiers.
Her face was cold marble, and in her hands, burnished gold bracelets glinted under the clearing sky.
Magic dampeners.
Alena’s pulse crashed against her ribs.
“Run,” Leukos rasped.
She spun—
Velthur struck, his hand snapping around her arm with crushing force. She struggled, nails raking across his golden skin, but his grip didn’t loosen. His other arm coiled around her waist, pinning her as if she weighed nothing.
“The Emperor,” he murmured, voice like silk dragged across a blade, “will be so pleased to finally meet you.”
“Alena!”
Her head whipped towards Leukos.
He was trying to rise, blood pouring down his abdomen. Ice-blue light flared in his eyes, burning as fiercely as winter fire. He slammed his palm into the blood-soaked ground, fingers splayed wide.
Alena screamed. “Leukos, no!”
The ancient circle should have suppressed all magic. It should have been impossible. And yet—
Frost exploded outwards, racing across the stones and grass, sheathing the circle in glittering ice. The air turned brittle with winter’s breath.
For a heartbeat, Velthur’s grip slackened.
Then the light sputtered. The frost stilled.
Leukos collapsed with a strangled sound, his magic vanishing into mist.
“Leukos!” Alena wrenched against Velthur, panic splitting her chest. She lunged for her husband with everything she had left.
She didn’t make it two steps.
Velthur hauled her back, lifting her clean off the ground.
The blonde legate stepped into view, her braids coiled like a crown, expression a mask of merciless calm. She seized Alena’s wrists.
“A valiant effort,” she sneered, snapping the dampeners into place. The cold metal clamped down, biting into Alena’s skin. “Take pride—he’ll die a true warrior, fighting to protect you.”
Velthur adjusted his grip, unfazed by Alena’s struggle. “Enough. We have what we came for.”
The blonde inclined her head and pressed a hand against the stone wrapped in shadows.
Darkness stirred, coiling outwards.
They meant to take her. To disappear into the shadows.
To leave him to die.
Panic clawed up her throat. “No—please! You can’t leave him there!” She writhed against Velthur’s grip until her body howled in protest. “Leukos!”
He didn’t stir.
He lay in the mud, and he wasn’t moving.
“Don’t leave him, please!” Her cries broke apart into sobs. Her vision swam until he was nothing but a blurred shape on the ground.
Her chest split wide, heart breaking open under the weight of it.
She fought harder, nails tearing at Velthur’s arm, but his grip was iron. Her magic was smothered, her strength unravelling, every muscle screaming.
The shadows surged, a black tide rushing to claim her.
“Leukos!” She reached for him again, desperate, trembling.
But then the dark swallowed her whole, and the world—her world—disappeared.