Page 15 of Broken Fates (Severed Flames #3)

Chapter 15

Vale

T he cold cut like a knife, sharp and biting against my sweat-dampened skin.

I barely felt it. All I could see was Nyrah.

She was right there .

Her body was limp in Idris’ arms but warm, her shallow breaths barely shifting the strands of golden hair stuck to her forehead. I stared, unblinking, waiting for the Dreaming to rip her away, for the nightmare to twist reality again. But nothing changed.

Nyrah was real. Here. Alive.

My hands shook as I reached for her. She looked small—too small.

Something inside me cracked wide open. I reached before I could think, my fingers shaking, my throat raw. "Give her to me."

Idris didn’t hesitate. His arms tightened around her for only a moment—a barely-there instinct—before he shifted, lowering her carefully into my waiting grasp.

The moment her weight settled against me, my knees hit the dirt. Hard. The pain barely registered, drowned beneath the crashing weight of finally. The tightness in my ribs threatened to snap. I clutched her to my chest, pressing my face into her hair, breathing her in, grounding myself in the rise and fall of her breaths.

Alive. Alive. Alive.

"Nyrah," I whispered, my voice cracking.

She didn’t stir. Didn’t move. But she was warm. She was here.

My body trembled, the last fraying strands of control unraveling as I curled tighter around her. I had spent weeks worrying she was lost to me, weeks clawing my way through hell to get to her. Had spent ten years keeping her safe. And now, finally, she was in my arms.

Kian knelt beside me, his hand a solid, warm weight against my back. “She’s okay, Vale.”

I couldn’t answer. My throat was too tight.

Xavier’s voice was a low rumble above us, sharp with tension. "We need to move."

I didn’t want to let go—couldn’t.

My arms locked around Nyrah, my body coiling around hers like I could shield her from everything—from Zamarra, from the Dreaming, from whatever else waited in the dark.

But we couldn’t stay here.

A shadow moved beside me. Idris knelt, his golden eyes unreadable, the glow of his magic still flickering at his fingertips.

“I’ll carry her.”

I stiffened. Every instinct in me screamed “No.” I had just gotten her back. Just pulled her from the nightmare I hadn’t been sure she would survive. I couldn’t hand her over again.

But Idris didn’t push. He didn’t reach for her. He just looked at me.

Through the bond, I felt the steady pulse of his sincerity, his certainty, his promise.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmured. “You need to stay in the saddle.”

My hands refused to let go. A breath. A second. The kind of hesitation that could get someone killed in battle—but this wasn’t battle. This was worse.

I had her. I had her. And now I had to let her go.

The bond pulsed—steady, warm, certain. I forced myself to exhale, to unclench my fingers, to trust.

Slowly, I exhaled and pressed one last kiss to Nyrah’s hair before forcing my arms to loosen. Every movement felt wrong, like peeling away layers of armor I couldn’t afford to lose. But when I finally, finally, handed her back, Idris held her like she was the most important thing in the world. Like he wouldn’t let anything touch her.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Let's go."

Talek was already moving, scanning the dark as he led the way. His voice was low, distant. “The path back isn’t clear.”

He hesitated, then exhaled sharply. “But there’s something else. Something… watching.”

No one questioned it. No one asked what. We’d already seen too much tonight. When we reached the clearing where we had left the horses, the air was too still. The animals were skittish, their ears pinned back, their bodies shifting uneasily beneath Xavier’s calming touch.

Kian lifted a hand, murmuring a spell beneath his breath. A thin shimmer of magic wound through the trees, cloaking us in illusion. "This will help," he muttered. "But we need to move."

No argument. No wasted time.

I mounted quickly, my body heavy with exhaustion, but my eyes never left Idris as he swung onto his horse, Nyrah cradled against his chest.

I guided my horse forward, keeping close, watching.

Watching Nyrah. Watching Idris.

Watching the way he wouldn’t loosen his grip.

The night stretched around us, thick and endless. The only sounds were the steady clatter of hooves against damp earth, the rustling of wind through the trees. I rode close, my hands tense against the reins, my eyes darting to Nyrah every few minutes.

Still warm. Still here. Still breathing.

Every few steps, I reached out—brushed my fingers through her tangled hair, touched the back of her hand.

She didn’t stir—not once—and I feared she should have. Idris’ magic wasn’t keeping her asleep anymore, so why wasn’t she waking up? The weight of unease bore down on me, but I kept my silence.

Instead, I shifted my focus to Idris.

He hadn’t spoken since we left the sanctuary. He hadn’t loosened his grip. Hadn’t let her go. Sparks of golden magic still undulated around his fingertips, pulsing faintly, protectively, but I felt the tension in him through the bond.

His shoulders were rigid, his jaw tight. His guilt was deafening.

Silence stretched between us until I finally broke it. “You haven’t even exhaled, have you?”

His jaw flexed. He didn’t look at me. “I told you I’d keep her safe.”

“You did.”

I studied him carefully, taking in the way his grip grew tighter around Nyrah every time the horses shifted beneath us. The way his magic wouldn’t settle. The way he hadn’t let himself breathe since making his choice.

I reached out. Not for Nyrah. For him.

My fingers brushed against his arm—warm, steady, real.

"You chose us," I murmured.

He let out an uneven breath. It sounded shattered, broken.

His arm twitched beneath my touch—just the faintest, involuntary reaction, barely there before his grip shifted. And then—finally—Idris moved his hand, tightened it around mine, and held on.

As we rode, the night stretched around us, vast and unrelenting. The wind whispered through the trees, too quiet, too knowing. The hoofbeats of our horses muffled against damp earth, the weight of silence pressing against my skin.

I rode close to Idris, my gaze alternating between Nyrah’s still face and the rigid line of his shoulders. She hadn’t stirred. Not once. I told myself it was exhaustion. That she needed rest, that her body was just reclaiming its strength. But the thought curdled in my gut.

Kian skimmed my wrist. A light touch, barely there, like he wasn’t sure if he needed to comfort me or just remind himself I was still there. Xavier rode a little ahead, but his head turned slightly, catching my gaze. Not speaking—just checking.

Always watching.

Always ready.

A low exhale from Kian drew my attention. His posture was deceptively relaxed in the saddle, but his fingers flexed around the reins, his knuckles pale. “You’d think after all that, we’d at least get a dramatic sky split or something,” he muttered. “You know, a little divine intervention, a whisper of Fate saying, ‘Congrats, you survived. Have a cookie.’”

I huffed a breath that might have been amusement if we weren’t running for our lives. “Hate to break it to you, but Fate doesn’t give out riches and gold for surviving. In my experience, that only gets more shit shoveled your way.”

Kian clicked his tongue. “Yeah, well, Fate can kiss?—”

"Focus," Xavier cut in. His voice was low and controlled, but I caught the sharpness in it. He didn’t like this silence any more than I did. His gaze swept the darkness around us, his grip firm on his sword’s hilt, even as he rode. “Something still isn’t right.”

Talek made a quiet sound. He was a little ahead of us, his head tilted like he was listening to something we couldn’t hear. “We aren’t alone,” he murmured. “I don’t know if it’s watching or waiting, but it hasn’t left.”

A sense of unease slithered up my spine. “Can you tell what it is?”

Talek’s jaw worked, but he shook his head. “Not yet, and the spirits or whatever the fuck they are aren’t being very forthcoming.”

That wasn’t comforting.

Xavier grunted, his fingers twitching like he was resisting the urge to pull his sword free. “Then we ride faster.”

No one argued.

The horses shifted restlessly as we picked up speed, their hooves pounding harder against the damp earth. I pressed my knees against the saddle, adjusting my grip on the reins, keeping my eyes on Nyrah—on the way her body barely moved with each breath.

She was still too pale. Too still.

Idris’ magic curled faintly around her, not enough to force her into sleep anymore, just… there. Guarding. Watching. As if his body hadn’t fully registered the battle was over.

I swallowed hard. “Idris.”

He didn’t react right away. His gaze stayed locked forward, but I saw the tension in his features, the flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

“I’m not putting her down,” he said quietly. “I told you I’d protect her and I?—”

“I know.” I exhaled, shifting closer, just enough that my knee brushed against his. “But you can breathe now.”

His hand flexed against Nyrah’s side, but he didn’t answer.

The ride through the dark was silent, save for the clatter of hooves, the muffled rustle of wind through the trees.

I rode close, my knee brushing Idris’, my fingers skimming Nyrah’s arm. Still warm. Still breathing. But her body was too still, her breaths too shallow.

Something wasn’t right.

A sigh from Kian cut through the quiet. "So. I know of an inn somewhere around here."

Xavier shot him a look. “Is it still standing?”

“Probably.”

“Is it defensible?”

Kian hesitated. “It has walls and a strong ‘Don’t ask, don’t tell’ vibe. Not the best clientele, but it’s better than staying in the damn forest for the night. I don’t know about you, but frostbite is a worry of mine.”

Xavier exhaled sharply, already shaking his head. “Is this the same inn where all your clothes were stolen from the bathhouse, and you had to fly home in shame? Please tell me how that’s better than the forest?”

"Not good enough." Idris’ voice was flat, cold. "We need more than walls and the illusion of safety."

I barely recognized his tone—his voice was all steel and finality.

"Where, then?" Talek murmured, glancing back. "We can't keep moving forever."

Silence. Then Idris spoke again, quiet but absolute. "There’s an estate. My grandfather’s—well, mine now. We can go there."

As the trees thinned and the estate’s towering wrought-iron gates loomed ahead, a faint shimmer of protective runes pulsed through the air.

Something skittered through the trees beyond the edges of Kian’s illusions.

Just the wind. Just a trick of the light. Just ? —

I swallowed hard, keeping my gaze forward. Don’t look back. Don’t let it see you.

The gates groaned open under Idris’ silent command, and the estate swallowed us whole. The silence here was different—not empty but listening. Magic crackled against my skin as we passed into the land proper. Ancient. Waiting.

The shift was instant.

The air settled. The weight of pursuit, of the Dreaming, of the Sanctuary—it all dulled beneath the layered wards of the estate.

But we weren’t alone.

A figure stood at the base of the massive front doors, hands clasped neatly in front of her, her sharp gaze sweeping over us like a blade.

Small. So small. She barely reached my chest, her white hair twisted into a neat bun, her crisp brown and gold gown unruffled despite the late hour. Her aged face was pinched with disapproval as she took in our ragged, bloodstained state.

And then, she sighed. “I was expecting you hours ago.”

Kian let out a low, exhausted chuckle. “Damn, Briar. Good to see you, too.”

The Brownie lifted a single, unimpressed brow. “I would say the same, but you smell like wet dog and bad decisions.”

Kian clutched his chest. “Right for the heart, huh?”

“I would have to aim much lower to hit something functional.”

Xavier grunted in approval. “Gods, I missed her.”

Idris, who had yet to let go of Nyrah, exhaled slowly. “Briar.”

Her sharp eyes snapped to him, scanning him from head to toe. She took in the tight set of his jaw, the lingering flickers of golden magic rippling around Nyrah, the way exhaustion lined every inch of his frame.

And just like that, the disapproval cracked. Her expression softened just a fraction, and she let out a low, muttered curse. “You foolish boy.”

Idris’ jaw twitched. He didn’t argue.

Briar huffed. “Inside. All of you. Baths have been drawn, the rooms are warm, and the food is waiting. You look half-dead, and frankly, you’re bleeding on my doorstep.”

I blinked. “You knew we were coming?”

Briar’s lips twitched like she was fighting a smirk. “I didn’t need to know. I just needed to prepare. And don’t worry. My son is taking care of the castle in my absence.”

My throat tightened. Gods, I had missed her.

Kian slung an arm over Talek’s shoulder, grinning despite the filth on his face. “See? This is why I love her. She just knows.”

Briar sniffed. “If you really loved me, you wouldn’t track filth through my halls. Take off those bloody boots before I find a switch.”

I breathed out a laugh.

Then, finally, I swung my leg over the saddle—only to find Xavier already there, one steadying hand at my waist as I landed. Kian was just behind him, his fingers brushing my arm like he wasn’t sure if I needed support or if he just needed to touch me.

“You good?” Xavier’s voice was low, quiet enough that only I could hear.

I nodded, even though my legs wobbled. Kian didn’t seem convinced. His eyes flicked between me and Nyrah, his magic winding faintly at his fingertips.

“I’m fine,” I murmured, pressing a quick, reassuring squeeze to his wrist before stepping toward Idris.

Briar’s gaze shifted to Nyrah once more, and she exhaled sharply. “Your sister’s still unconscious?”

“She hasn’t woken up,” I murmured. “Not since the Sanctuary.”

Something unreadable flashed across Briar’s face. Not surprise. Not exactly. But something deeper. Briar pursed her lips, moving closer. The sharp glint in her gaze softened—just slightly—as she reached for Nyrah’s wrist, pressing two fingers against her pulse. Something flickered across her face—something that made my stomach twist. But she didn’t say it. Not yet.

“Then let’s get her inside.”

She stepped aside, the massive double doors swinging open at the wave of her fingers. The relief hit like a flood, unraveling the tightness in my chest. The scent of lavender and polished wood wrapped around me, rich and grounding. It was more than warmth—it was safety, woven into every candlelit corridor and shimmering rune along the walls.

Safe.

I exhaled.

We were safe.

At least, for now.