Chapter 33 #2
The alpha skidded, claws scrambling for purchase on the bone-strewn floor. Its yellow eyes narrowed. Dawson didn’t wait. Time wasn’t a luxury they could afford right now, not with their bonds still muffled.
Wind hurled him forward. His blade struck like lightning.
Claws clashed against steel in a grating shriek of metal. Dawson dropped into a crouch, rolled beneath the beast, and rose with a slicing arc that cut under its shoulder.
Alaire’s heart lodged in her throat. Dawson showed why he was Aeris Academy’s most prized flier and warrior—unyielding, relentless, bending the air to his will with precision and ferocity.
The alpha feinted left, then lunged right, claws raking the air where Dawson had been. He twisted midair, shielded by the wind, and for an instant hovered above the bloodravager.
Alaire hugged her arms around herself. She hated feeling useless.
Dawson shoved his sword into its spine as he landed, dragging the blade toward him. The creature shrieked, thrashing violently, clawing the air as it tried to dislodge him.
Come on. Come on.
The alpha staggered, a deep, wet gurgle tearing from its throat before collapsing in a heap, yellow-and-red eyes dimming to nothing.
Dawson gave it no mercy. Striding forward, he gripped the hilt still lodged in its back, wrenched his sword free, and with one clean strike lopped off its head. Black blood spurted across the cave.
Good.
He crouched low, bracing his forearms on his knees, breath ragged.
A sharp pop echoed, so loud Alaire’s eardrums hollowed out.
“The barrier’s down,” Dawson whispered.
Seeing him take down the bloodravager so effortlessly shouldn’t have been as hot as it was. Alaire bit her lip.
Focus. Ogle later.
A low symphony of rumbles grew into growls. Instead of scattering, the pack stalked forward, eyes gleaming. The rank stench thickened.
“What are they doing?” Dawson muttered. “They should be fighting each other.”
But they advanced—snarling, drooling, hungry.
This wasn’t the plan.
“Run!” Dawson barked. “We need to get back to the entrance. They can’t survive in the light.”
She hooked her arm through his; she wouldn’t leave him. With the barrier gone, their only chance was to outrun the pack.
Dawson pivoted, unleashing a burst of wind that blasted several creatures back, then seized her arm and sprinted.
Snarls closed in, icy fingers running down Alaire’s spine. She dropped his arm, drew her weapons, and forced her screaming legs to keep moving. Her breaths burned, ragged and sharp.
“Keep going!” Dawson ordered.
They retraced their path, the stench of rot clinging thicker than smoke. Bones splintered beneath their boots. She kept her eyes forward. Do. Not. Stop .
Claws clip-clacked all around them, the bloodravagers’ skeletal frames gliding like phantoms through the cavern.
Her grip whitened on her daggers.
There—the cave mouth.
Faint rays of light cut through the mist. Morning. Relief surged through her. They were almost?—
Shadows eclipsed the light. Bloodravagers weren’t only behind them. They were waiting.
Had they been there all along? Watching from the shadows? Was it one of them that brushed her back earlier?
The alpha had fallen, but the pack wasn’t fracturing—they were adapting. Hunger outweighed instinct.
They’d have to fight their way out.
Dawson shifted to cover her, blade steady, circling protectively. “Stay close. Get ready.”
Here we go .
A gurgling snarl rose, then the pack lunged.
Pain seared through her side as claws raked across her.
“Fuck!”
She retaliated, driving her dagger into one bloodravager’s ribs. She twisted hard, carved deep, and shoved it back. The beast staggered but didn’t fall.
Dawson blurred beside her, lethal and precise, the wind around him a storm. A burst slammed one creature into a stalagmite with a crunch .
“Move!” he shouted, forcing a path closer to the entrance.
Alaire spun her daggers, ducked low, and slashed. Blood sprayed, hot and vicious across her skin. Her shoulders burned, each impact jolting up her arms.
How much longer could she keep this up?
Another lunged. She rolled, her blade slicing a brutal arc across its throat.
Dawson was everywhere at once—airborne, surging with impossible bursts of speed, a force of nature. But even he couldn’t last forever.
Teeth, claws, steel—it was all a blur. The bloodravagers pressed tighter.
Alaire ducked, breath catching as claws whooshed past her head. She stabbed between shoulder and chest, twisting both blades counterclockwise until the flesh gave.
The beast shrieked, but another lunged for her exposed neck.
Her vision blurred at the edges from exhaustion, blood loss, and lack of sleep.
They just kept coming. How could we possibly survive this?
Sweat stung her eyes.
She pulled one dagger free from the other creature, twisting away as she drove her blade into its neck, slicing downward. The hot spray of black blood splattered across her skin, burning like acid where it touched her. It convulsed on the floor before collapsing.
She barely had time to catch her breath before movement to her right drew her attention. One of the bloodravagers was stalking Dawson.
Alaire didn’t think—she reacted on instinct. Its claws aimed for his back.
She threw herself between them.
The impact knocked the air from her lungs as she hit the unyielding bones beneath her. The creature’s weight made her feel like her chest was caving inward.
Pinning her to the ground, its saliva dripped into her hair. The rancid stench—rotting meat and decay—made her gag.
She struggled against its hold, trying to use her knees and legs to kick it off, but it only dug its claws deeper. Damn, that fucking hurt .
The bloodravager opened its jowls, razor-sharp canines piercing flesh.
A deafening roar exploded around her.
Dawson.
Her breath hitched as the bloodravager faltered before it could sink its full maw into her neck.
A wave of adamant power blasted through the cave, obliterating everything around her. The bloodravager disintegrated into flecks of black snow, but it was too late.
An inferno swept through her blood like rushing water. It started at the bite and spread outward in burning tendrils, making her limbs feel disconnected from her body. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
All she felt was excruciating pain.
Rough hands cradled her face, pushing damp hair from her forehead. Dawson. His eyes were murderous—fear and concern warring within them.
Despite the agony, her body flared to life at his touch. Her breaths came in ragged bursts. She tried to smile. “You couldn’t have done that earlier?”
Dawson ignored her weak attempt at humor. His hands roamed over her skin, searching.
“Neck,” she choked out.
She didn’t miss how his pupils swallowed the aqua of his irises. Not good. Dawson’s jaw clenched, thumb tracing the wound with reverence, aching gentleness.
“Look at me, Alaire,” he murmured as his forefinger traced the torn skin. “You’re going to be fine.”
“Liar.” She forced a smirk, but her words came out gurgled, strained.
His voice grew distant. A relentless throbbing filled her, sharp with agony. It felt like she was being flayed from the inside out. The world tilted, blurred.
“This will hurt, Alaire, but it’s the only way to get the poison out. Hang on, okay?” His nostrils flared. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
She tried to respond, to tell him it would be okay. But her body refused to answer, paralyzed by the pain. His fear bled into the air around them.
Was this how it ended? There were worse ways to go than in a blaze of battle. She took comfort in knowing Dawson would survive. That Solflara had never been in danger. That she’d finally be free.
Dawson bent over her, desperation etched across his face. Slow and gentler than she ever thought him capable of, his lips brushed her neck. A goodbye.
Then his mouth pressed directly to her wound.
What was he doing? Did he want to die with her?
The sensation pulled at her skin, an unbearable burn tearing through her. It felt like being flayed alive. Dawson’s fingers flexed against her shoulders and collarbone as he drew the venom out, spitting it violently onto the ground before repeating.
The poison scorched as it left her body, lighting every nerve on fire. Then, for a heartbeat, cool relief—like dawn air across her skin—until the agony resumed with a vengeance.
Alaire tried to say thank you, but she couldn’t. She was just so tired. Darkness crept in, and she surrendered to the sweet numbness of oblivion.