Chapter 47 #2
The tiniest sliver of hope sparked in her chest. She’d deal with the rest later, when spider-bats weren’t trying to kill her.
A splintering screech pierced the void.
Professor Ross’s head whipped toward her. His eyes widened. “Run!”
A talon speared toward him. He flung bursts of fire to keep the hybrids at bay with one hand while conjuring a flame shield with the other.
The toxin still weakened Alaire’s legs, but she pushed forward, daggers slashing. They would make it out of here. Her movements were filled with desperation.
From the corner of her eye, she caught the larger bat—the one who’d invaded her mind—watching her. Waiting. Hunger glinting in its eyes.
She flinched as cracked leather brushed her skin.
Professor Ross released a ring of fire, driving the hybrids back. The acrid stench of scorched flesh clawed at her throat, stirring nightmares she wished she could forget—of her people burning, of Starfall. All because of the Voidshade Sovereign.
The professor carved out a path toward her. Alaire closed the distance, ready to fight back-to-back. Her heart pounded like a war drum.
His flames missed some.
Bloodthirsty and feral, a hybrid stepped from the shadows. Alaire and Professor Ross stood poised, weapons drawn—united against a common enemy, for now.
The bat’s movements were a blur, its body camouflaged in darkness.
Like a whisper of shadow, it launched itself in fluid, razor-sharp arcs.
It plummeted toward them, adjusting its trajectory with subtle flicks of its wings.
Fangs bared, it sliced through the air too fast to follow—much too quick for Professor Ross to react.
The unmistakable sound of tearing flesh echoed in her ears.
Its spear-like wing tip pierced straight through his abdomen. He let out a strangled cry.
The creature retracted its wings with a violent yank, pushing Ross’s slumped body off the tip before licking the remaining blood.
It discarded him like trash. Its tongue, long and serpentine, savored the taste.
Then, with a low hiss, it locked eyes with Alaire—ravenous.
She clutched her stomach. It vanished back into the dark, waiting, watching.
Professor Ross crumpled to the ground, clutching the wound with shaky hands. Blood pooled in a slow ooze, slick and dark against the floor.
Tears streaming, Alaire ran to him, despite the dozens of others lurking nearby. Their black eyes, rimmed with red, gleamed with predatory hunger, yet they didn’t strike—as if commanded to hold back.
Whatever suspicions she carried, he’d still come for her when no one else had. He couldn’t die. Not here. Not like this.
“Professor!” Alaire cried, desperation choking her voice. She knelt, ripping off his suit jacket to staunch the wound. Warm, sticky blood instantly soaked through the fabric. His breathing was ragged—wet and shallow. It wasn’t good, and they both knew it.
One trembling hand reached up to cradle her face. “You look so much like your mother,” he whispered.
Alaire’s jaw went slack. “My… mother?”
“There’s so much I needed to tell you,” he rasped. “I thought we’d have more time.”
“No. Whatever you need to tell me can wait until we get out of here.”
He gave a faint smile, blood staining his teeth. “We both know… I’m not going anywhere. My breaths are numbered. And there is much I must tell you.”
She gently lowered his head to her bent knees, hoping it would ease his choking.
“Many times, I thought you had figured it out.” His eyelids drooped.
“Too observant for your age. Mature too.” He coughed—a horrible, soggy sound.
“I served as your parents’ Chief Advisor in Aurelia.
They were the best this realm had to offer.
I miss their guidance, but most of all, their friendship. ”
Alaire’s throat tightened. Her grip on the blood-soaked jacket faltered. That’s why he could wield flames. Professor Ross was a fire elemental from Aurelia.
“No one expected the Voidshade Sovereign to launch an attack against us,” Professor Ross sputtered.
Alaire redoubled her efforts to staunch the wound. She closed her eyes, reaching for the power she’d summoned to save Dawson. Taking a deep breath, she focused on the wheeze of his breathing, the slowing pace of his heart. Nothing.
“This is more important,” he said, one finger gently squeezed hers, forcing her to open her eyes.
“There were whispers of shadows growing in the Retribution of the Ruined, but anyone sent to penetrate their borders never returned. The rumors grew. One ruler emerged from the shadows—a force this world had never seen before.”
His eyes glistened with tears, lost to memories of another time.
Alaire fought to summon her magic, torn between needing the truth and the urge to block out his words.
“Your parents took precautions to protect Elithian’s most sacred item—and you. I was tasked with your survival. Instructed to take you to Cielore if war came.” His chest rattled. “Your half-fae blood and rounded ears hid you well.”
Desperation tore at her to stop the bleeding. She’d finally gotten a piece of her home back; she’d do anything for more time with him. Then it hit her.
“Professor, summon a flame,” she pleaded.
“What?”
“Try to summon a flame. We can use it to heat my dagger and staunch the wound.”
He shook his head. “That isn’t going to heal me, not with the poison coating those creatures’ tips. I’m ready… I’m at peace with it.”
“Well, I’m not. Not now.”
“I know. But there’s more I need to tell you, and I don’t have much time.”
She nodded, choking back tears.
“Alaire, your parents bound your magic,” he ground out. “To protect you from being targeted for your power. But also, to hide the heir to the Vallorian line—the one who protected the light. Spells strong enough to bind someone’s magic always extract a heavy toll.”
He struggled for breath, crimson speckling his lips.
“Your mother used her magic to set the binding spell within you. The bonds were meant to loosen at twenty-five—further if you bonded with a celestial. The final barrier would fall when I deemed you ready, when you’d learned enough to protect yourself.
That’s why I insisted you attend Aeris Academy.
But your parents also tied your magic to my death as a failsafe.
If something happened to me before I could prepare you, at least you’d have your magic to protect you. And now Solflara too.”
Alaire shook her head, tears blinding her. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth, Alaire. You’re ready.”
“When did they do it?” she whispered. She couldn’t even bring herself to say the words.
“Starfall,” he said. Of course. Where all of it began and ended—an ouroboros of pain, secrets, and lies.
“It’s why your memories of that night, of your past, were always foggy and fragmented.
Leaving you… at the orphanage…” His voice broke.
“It was my greatest regret. Your parents’ instructions were explicit—you were to be raised as a mortal. ”
His hands began to shake as they clutched hers.
“I watched over you as best I could, but you disappeared. No matter how hard I searched, you didn’t resurface until you were processed at Grimstone Penitentiary. It’s why I had those files of you in my desk. Potentially what we were searching for was always my code for you. I never stopped looking.
“You always wondered why you were offered admission to Aeris Academy. I called in every favor I had to ensure you received the training you needed. I wanted to be close in case trouble came calling. Headmaster Carth owed me a favor.”
Alaire gripped his hand tighter, the band of her ring digging into the space between his thumb and forefinger.
“The ring,” he murmured, voice weakening. “It’s an heirloom, imbued with magic from the first Vallorian to bond with a phoenix. I kept it with me. It was meant for the female heir when she came of age.” A cough racked his body.
“When I left it for you with the crown, I had to see if it would sing to you as it did to your mother. If the power would call to you in the same way. I never told you how regal your mother’s diadem looked on you.” Blood trickled from his mouth.
Professor Ross was the one who’d left the crown outside her room the night of the Celestial Cascade Ball.
He turned his head as a mix of sob and cough tore through him. He spat out black bile tinged with red.
“I watched over you. Always.” His grip slackened. “I’m sorry I had to leave you just when I found you.”
He tugged her hand weakly, pulling her close. His breath warmed her ear.
“Your people wait for your return.” She tried to pull back to look at him, but his grip kept her there. “The shadow remembers what we forget… but light reveals where to look.”
What did that even mean?
“Your parents would be so proud. You’ll make a magnificent queen.” He gulped air. “I’m sorry for the role I was forced to play in adding to the burden of your suffering.” Tears shone in his eyes.
“It’s okay.” Her voice cracked.
“Never forget where you come from, whose blood you carry in your veins. Finally, you will be free.” He released one hand to pound his fist weakly against his chest. “From ashes to flames.” A final salute for his queen.
With one last shuddering breath, Professor Ross’s eyes went distant, body limp. She felt all the fight drain out of her along with his last exhalation.
Screeches echoed closer, the bats’ restraint fraying. Light scattered across the cavern, catching their red-rimmed eyes above her. She forced herself not to look.
Had she returned to Aurelia when she first bonded with her phoenix, as Solflara had urged, would Professor Ross have lived?
A tremor ran through her hands instead of the expected surge of power—an effect of the hybrid’s venom, if she had to guess. Pinpricks of numbness spread through her shoulders.