Page 14

Then I felt it. What I thought was just the rain still soaking through my skin, wasn't just that. Sharp and burning pain swept through me, and I placed a hand over my belly, only to pull it away and stare at the bright crimson blood mixing with the rain still falling gently from the sky. The red swirled into pink patterns as it washed away, taking pieces of me with it.

"Rowen. Archer." My voice shook as darkness crept in on the edges of my vision, like ink bleeding into water.

They both knelt in front of me. Archer had droplets of blood scattered on his face as his brow furrowed with concern, his daggers still gripped tightly in one hand.

Rowen was another matter entirely. I wasn't prepared for his full demon form. Black skin mottled with red, his eyes bright crimson with black coloring his sclera. His horns were longer, and that tail I dreamed about was now tipped with a vicious looking point. He was magnificent and terrifying all at once.

"Sierra," Rowen's voice was distant now, the buzzing in my ears growing louder as I felt my blood pulse from my body. Each beat of my heart seemed to push more of my life away from me.

"Help." My throat was raw and I was barely able to get the word out. It felt like swallowing broken glass.

"We need to get a healer, Wen. Her lifeforce is slipping away." Archer shook Rowen's shoulder, urgency making his movements sharp.

"I know, I feel it." There was so much pain in the statement tears blurred my vision further. "We have to leave her in the human realm. She isn't safe anymore. Being close to us is triggering her heat. Fuck," Rowen roared, the sound making the ground shudder and roll beneath us.

Archer cursed and his hand splayed over my belly and the open wound. Warmth spread through me, making my fingers tingle. It was like sunshine after the longest winter, reaching into the coldest parts of me.

"Archer, you can't." Rowen tried to pull him away, but he held a hand up as a snarl curled his upper lip.

"I don't care. She'll die." Archer looked down and his eyes turned a brilliant white as they glowed. His form flickered and I swear I saw wings sprout from his back, massive and luminous against the dark sky. But unlike Rowen's wings, they were white and feathered.

"So beautiful," I whispered, my bloody hand reaching up and touching the pristine white feathers. They were softer than anything I'd ever felt, warm and vibrating with a power that felt nothing like demonic energy.

"Hold on, little one." Archer gripped my wrist and brought it back down to my side, his touch infinitely gentle despite the urgency of the moment.

I felt my strength slowly returning, the warmth from his touch somehow healing me. A demon with healing powers? It was almost unheard of. The contradiction made my foggy mind spin.

But those wings…

My gaze fixated on the streak of crimson I'd left. My blood, stark against the purity of his feathers, like a promise or a warning I couldn't quite understand.

"Archer, that's enough. Stop before someone feels the energy. Let's get her away from here."

The warmth from Archer's touch abruptly disappeared and I wanted to weep at the absence. The cold rushed back in, making me gasp.

It felt like more than just his healing energy leaving. It felt like it was his own goodbye. Something final and devastating in the way his eyes met mine one last time.

The feathers disappeared, along with the glowing light surrounding him, leaving me bereft in ways I couldn't articulate.

"Sleep, Sierra." Rowen drew my attention back toward him. "I'm sorry. For everything. I hope one day you can forgive me."

Darkness engulfed me and my body went limp, his words echoing in my mind as consciousness slipped away. The last thing I felt was raindrops mixing with my tears.

7

Callum

Istepped through the shadows and into the Fae realm, expecting the usual rush of vibrant magic that always greeted me upon return. Instead, a sickening emptiness rolled through my stomach as my boots touched ground that felt... wrong.

Dead leaves crunched beneath my feet.

Wrong.

So fucking wrong.

The ancient oaks that had stood sentinel since before my birth were losing their luster, their once-emerald leaves now curling at the edges, turning an alarming shade of amber-brown. Magic that typically pulsed through their veins, magic that should have been eternal, was fading.

I reached out, placing my palm against the nearest trunk, feeling its sluggish heartbeat.