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The door swung open to reveal the cool kiss of night air and a clearing just beyond the fortress walls. Overhead, the moon hung low and swollen, casting long, silvered light across the grass.

Evangeline followed them out, closing the door with care. She pressed her palm against the metal and murmured in a tongue Broderick did not recognize, the words soft and strange. At once, he felt his strength ebb, a draining pull that tugged at his very marrow. Evangeline’s hand shot out, firm against his chest. “Stay back, Broderick,” she warned.

The weakening sensation faded as they moved away from the door, but a cold unease lingered in Broderick’s bones.

Evangeline turned to Mariota, her smile tight with urgency. “All right, Sister Mariota, where is the vial?”

Mariota’s face drained of color, her eyes widening like twinfull moons. “M-me? I thought you brought it!”

Evangeline’s brow furrowed, her lips thinning to a firm line. “I thoughtyoubrought it.”

A beat of stunned silence passed between them, their gazes locked in mutual horror, before they groaned in unison.

“No oneeverchooses the cure!” Mariota said defensively, throwing her hands skyward in exasperation. “This is the one time someone does, and we didn’t bring it?”

Evangeline pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a ragged breath. “We don’t have time for this,” she muttered darkly. Raising her voice, she whipped toward to Broderick. “We’ll have to fix this another way. Stay here.”

Without further delay, she strode toward two horses tethered beneath a skeletal tree at the clearing’s edge. Her hands dove into one of the saddlebags, retrieving a scrap of parchment, a stick of charcoal, and a narrow leather scroll case.

Dropping to her knees, she began to write with swift, practiced strokes, her urgency scrawled into every dark line of the script.

Broderick knelt on the grass and gently lowered Davina to the ground. He sat behind her and her head lolled against him, damp with fevered sweat. He smoothed the tangled hair from her clammy brow, his jaw clenched as he took in the pallor of her lips, the tremor in her fragile hands.

“Hold on, lass,” he encouraged, his voice thick with desperation. “Just a little longer.”

Evangeline’s charcoal scratched to a stop. She scanned the parchment, narrowed her eyes, and made a few final, quick marks before rolling it tightly in the leather, then sealed it with a press of wax on the tie, imprinting the Army of Light insignia.

Standing, she thrust the canister toward Broderick, her gazehard as tempered steel. “Listen well,” she commanded. “Take Davina to the monastery in Leeds. Run—your immortal speed will carry you faster than any horse. When you arrive, tell the monks you seek the cure, and that Sister Evangeline sent you. They will understand.”

Broderick’s brows knitted. “And the cure itself?” he pressed, dread simmering beneath his words.

“They will prepare it for you,” Evangeline assured him. “It’s an infusion of a special tea. It will stabilize her condition and reverse the effects of the Blood Slave bond.” She hesitated, her gaze hardening. “But onlyafterthey’ve given you the cure should you show them this scroll. It’s addressed to Father Beaumont, the head of the monastery. Show them the seal to prove the Army of Light sent you, but do not place it in anyone’s hands except his. Only Father Beaumont.”

“Why the secrecy?” Broderick asked, his brow furrowing deep with suspicion.

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, a flicker of unease shadowing her eyes. “Just do it,” she clipped, then softened her tone. “Butyou’llhave the upper hand, Broderick. You’re immortal. They are not. Do not let them intimidate you.”

A ghost of a smirk touched Broderick’s lips. “I think I can manage a few monks.”

Evangeline matched his grin with a flash of her own, a glimmer of old camaraderie in her eyes. “Oh, I’m sure you can. Once you’ve given Father Beaumont the scroll, await his instructions.”

Then she knelt beside Davina, her expression gentling as she brushed sweat-damp hair from the younger woman’s brow. “You’re strong, Davina,” she whispered, the words a balm. “Hold on just a little longer. You’ll be free of this soon.”

Davina’s lips curved into the faintest smile, weak but full of gratitude. “Thank you,” she rasped, her voice no more than a breath. “For everything.”

Evangeline leaned in and embraced her briefly. When she drew back, her eyes shimmered with quiet resolve. She turned to Broderick, laying her hand firmly on his shoulder. “Take care of her, and take care of yourself, Broderick.”

Broderick dipped his chin in a tight nod, the weight of her charge settling in his chest. He rose smoothly, gathering Davina into his arms as if she weighed no more than a feather. Her head lolled against his shoulder, breathing shallow but steady.

Evangeline stepped back, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. “Godspeed,” she whispered.

Without another word, Broderick surged into the night, his immortal speed blurring the world into streaks of shadow and silver. The wind roared past them, the landscape vanishing beneath his relentless stride.

He held Davina close, her heart pounding with determination. She was strong. She would make it. She had to. Every step drove him closer to Leeds.

And to the fragile, flickering hope of saving the woman he loved.

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