Page 3 of Broken Fates (Severed Flames #3)

Chapter 3

Vale

T he mare refused to take another step.

Her muscles coiled beneath me as she dug her hooves into the snow, snorting as I tugged at the reins, urging her forward.

But she didn’t move. Not an inch.

Frustration clawed up my throat. “Come on,” I whispered. “We don’t have time for this.”

She flicked an ear back but stayed rooted to the spot, nostrils flaring. A warning. My stomach twisted. Was she sensing something I couldn’t? Or was she just as exhausted as I was?

Probably both.

I exhaled sharply, loosening my grip as I shoved wayward strands of hair from my face. Fine.

If she wanted to stop, she could stop. If I pushed her too hard, she’d collapse, and then I’d be stranded. I didn’t know much about horses, but even I knew that much.

A faint trickle of water reached my ears.

The mare tossed her head, pulling toward the sound, and I—knowing better than to fight a creature ten times my weight—let her go. The small stream cut through the forest, a thin ribbon of clear water, barely more than three feet wide. The mare lowered her head instantly, drinking deep.

I exhaled, rubbing a hand down my face.

“Guess it’s not just me that’s beat,” I muttered.

I swung my aching legs over the saddle and nearly collapsed under my own weight. Gods, I was exhausted. My body felt like it was made of stone—too heavy, too stiff. Two days of running, no food, no rest. My stubbornness had carried me this far, but even that had limits.

The forest pressed in around us, thick and dark, but the steady trickle of water against the rocks was soothing. A moment’s peace. A dangerous thing.

Crouching beside the stream, I scooped water into my palms and drank. The icy chill burned against my raw throat, shocking me awake for a moment before fading into a dull ache.

My stomach clenched as I reached into my satchel, my fingers brushing against my meager rations—bread, dried meat, an apple. It was a hell of a lot more than I’d ever had under the mountain, but still not enough. I should have planned this better—should have thought it through.

I rolled the apple in my palm, staring at it for a long moment. My first instinct was to ration it out, to save it for later.

The mare shifted beside me, ears twitching.

With a quiet sigh, I held out the apple.

She flicked an ear, sniffed, then took it from my palm with a sharp crunch .

I shook my head. “You better be worth the trouble.”

The mare just chewed, utterly indifferent. A familiar kind of indifference. Rune had looked at me like that, once.

That thought hit like a dagger to the gut. What I wouldn’t give to hear his voice in my head telling me what to do.

What I wouldn’t give to know I wasn’t alone.

And then I felt it—a spark of something in the back of my mind. Not the mate bonds. Not the lingering pull of Kian’s warmth, or Xavier’s sharp focus, or even Idris’ cold, distant steel.

This was different.

A whisper. A ripple of magic threading through my chest.

I swallowed hard, reaching for my satchel with trembling hands. The book sat inside, pressed against my ribs like a heartbeat.

Go back to the book.

Lirael’s voice echoed through my mind. She was so insistent that the stupid thing had answers, but all it had ever given me was more questions. Reluctantly, I pulled it free, my breath coming too fast as I flipped through its brittle pages. I had no idea what I was looking for. No concrete lead, no plan—just a whisper from a goddess I barely understood.

Go back to the book.

I’d read it before—but just barely—the faint skimming of someone too afraid to learn her own history. Every faded word, every crumbling edge of the pages held something else I never wanted to know. It was a piece of my parents—the only thing I had left of them.

My fingers skimmed over the parchment, but the words blurred together, shifting like ink spilled in water. The ink shimmered, bleeding at the edges, rearranging themselves like the pages were alive.

I blinked hard.

The letters refused to stay still, and a spike of pain lanced through my head as my stomach churned. I pressed the heel of my palm against my eye, breathing deeply.

Focus. This is important.

The mare was still drinking, her ears flicking lazily as she lapped at the water. Each sip echoed in the quiet, the only sound in the vast emptiness of the forest.

I leaned heavily against my pack, the book still in my lap, its worn edges rough beneath my fingers. My limbs felt leaden, the weight of exhaustion pressing down harder than before. I needed to move. I needed to keep going.

But my body had other ideas.

The mare let out a slow breath, her warm exhale curling against the night air. Then, with a deep sigh, she shifted. I barely registered it at first, my vision blurring at the edges, but then—the sound of a quiet rustle and a heavy thump touched my ears. She lowered herself to the ground beside me.

I blinked, sluggish and dazed, watching as she tucked her legs beneath her, her massive body settling onto the snow-dusted earth. She shifted her weight, adjusted, then stilled—her warmth radiating outward, a solid presence against the biting cold.

A soft huff of breath stirred my hair.

She was close. Close enough that if I leaned just a little to the side, I’d be resting against her.

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat.

She should have been skittish, wary of me after I’d stolen her from that stable. But here she was, choosing to stay, settling down beside me as if she understood. As if she knew I needed her.

As if she knew I was alone.

A lump formed in my throat, too thick to breathe around. I let my fingers drift over her shoulder, barely skimming the coarse hair. She didn’t flinch. I exhaled slowly, the tension in my body unraveling just a fraction.

“Guess you’re stuck with me now, huh?” I murmured, my voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

She didn’t answer, of course, but she didn’t move away, either. Her warmth seeped into my frozen limbs, a quiet comfort against the endless dark.

I tried to fight it. Tried to stay alert, tried to keep my grip on the book.

But the letters swam, warped by my own exhaustion. The edges of my vision darkened. Sleep pulled at every limb, weighing me down.

Not yet. Not yet. Not yet ? —

The last thing I felt was the steady rise and fall of her breath against my side. Then, the world faded. The book slipped from my hands, and I fell.

Not physically—my body remained slumped against the mare’s flank, the frigid air snaking around me like ghostly fingers. But inside, something yanked me down, deeper than sleep, deeper than anything I could control.

The world twisted, folding in on itself, and when I opened my eyes?—

I stood in ruins.

A temple—half-buried in overgrowth, its stone walls cracked and broken. Vines curled around towering columns, roots splitting through ancient carvings. Snow clung to the jagged edges of stone, filling the gaps between shattered pews.

The wind howled through gaping windows, shaking brittle branches and sending dead leaves skittering across the floor. Above me, the sky was golden, glowing, filled with stars that pulsed like living things.

I knew this place.

I had seen it before.

A whisper—soft as wind over water.

“Go to the temple.” The voice drifted through the ruins, curling around the broken stones, seeping into the cracks of the earth itself.

I turned, searching. Shadows stretched unnaturally long, creeping across the floor in jagged, twisting shapes. The weight of unseen eyes pressed against my skin, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

No one was here.

And yet ? —

A figure moved in the corner of my vision.

I snapped my head toward it, but the space was empty.

The wind shifted.

A blonde girl—just a flicker, just a glimpse—vanished through the ruined archway.

I inhaled sharply, my pulse hammering in my chest. I’d seen her before. Here, in this very place, when Idris had found me in the Dreaming. A flash of golden hair, a pale face disappearing into the ruins, just a breath too fast for me to catch.

Was it Nyrah?

I took a step forward. Then another. My boots scraped against the stone, the sound unnervingly loud in the vast, ruined space. The air smelled of cold ash, of something old and waiting.

Another whisper—everywhere and nowhere at the same time. "Find me. Hurry."

I stumbled, my breath catching as the air itself seemed to shift. The golden glow above wavered, turning darker, bleeding into the sky like a whisper unraveling into the bones of the wind.

And then I felt it.

A pulse of something dark. Watching. Waiting.

The shadows slithered, stretching toward me like grasping hands.

No.

I staggered back, but the world around me lurched. The temple’s walls trembled, the stone groaning under an unseen weight. The ground beneath my feet buckled, warping, twisting ? —

I was being pulled under.

A sharp, searing cold wrapped around my throat, dragging me back into wakefulness.

My body jerked upright before I even knew why—heart pounding, breath sharp, a scream trapped behind my teeth. The cold air burned my throat.

Snow? Trees? My pulse hammered in my chest.

Still in the forest. Not the temple . Not the Dreaming.

My gaze snapped downward. The book lay open on my lap. To the temple. A rendering, detailed and precise—exactly what I had seen in the Dreaming. A sharp shudder racked my spine. My fingers trembled as I ran them over the aged parchment.

The Dreaming clung to me like frostbite, the whisper still echoing through my mind.

Go to the temple.

This wasn’t coincidence. This wasn’t my imagination twisting a nightmare into something real. Lirael had led me here.

But why?

Before I could think too hard about it, hoofbeats thudded against the frozen ground, their echoes freezing the very breath in my lungs. Then came the low rumble of voices.

That sound wasn’t from the Dreaming, not some figment of my exhausted mind. This was real.

The mare stiffened beside me, ears flicking sharply toward the sound. I twisted, barely breathing. Through the trees, four mounted figures emerged, gliding between the trunks like specters. My sluggish mind lagged behind my body, too slow, too exhausted before I finally registered the danger.

A Girovian patrol.

My pulse slammed into my throat.

Too close.

Panic flared through me. I slid low against the ground, pressing into the thick shadows. The mare barely moved. Her breath fogged the air, her sides heaving from exhaustion—but she didn't bolt. She didn't snort or shift.

Smart girl.

The men were speaking in clipped tones, too far for me to make out the words. Yet. One of them let out a sharp, barking laugh before it died a swift death. The loud one stopped, scanning the trees.

“What are you doing? It’s freezing out here,” one complained, his horse shuddering as if to drive his point home.

“Thought I heard something.”

A fresh wave of ice rolled through my veins. I pressed myself lower, fingers curling into the dirt. Please keep moving. Please ? —

“Probably a deer or something. Keep moving. The sooner this patrol is done, the sooner I can get some sleep.”

“Sure, you’re probably right.”

The first voice didn’t sound too convinced. The hooves shuffled, pausing, shifting as every muscle in my body locked. I counted heartbeats, forcing myself not to breathe.

One.

The hoofbeats resumed, but still, I didn’t so much as breathe.

Two.

The voices grew fainter, trailing off in the other direction.

Three.

The patrol moved on, their voices swallowed by the trees, and I exhaled.

Finally.

Relief hit too fast. Too hard. I slumped forward against the cold, my muscles unclenching. Gently, slowly, I closed the book and stowed it in my satchel. Without making a sound, I put my arms through the straps.

It’s fine. I’ll wait another minute, then ? —

Cold fingers clamped around my wrist, strong and unyielding. A scream clawed its way up my throat, but the stranger’s grip tightened, crushing. I nearly yelped in pain, but I couldn’t give my position away.

“Thought you were clever, didn’t you?” a voice hissed against my ear.

Yanking myself free, I whirled, bracing for a fight as he stepped from the shadows, a smirk curving his lips. His violet eyes skimmed over me—calculating and, amused. My veins were made of ice as I realized just how screwed I was. The fifth soldier—the one I hadn’t seen—wasn’t a soldier at all.

No, he was a Girovian mage.

I had been hiding from the wrong fucking patrol.

“What’s the matter, little queen? Lose your kingdom?”

Magic crackled at his fingertips as a bolt of energy streaked toward me.

Move. Move. Move.

I threw myself sideways as the mare jolted to her feet. The blast seared past my cheek, burning hot before slamming into the tree right next to the horse. Too close.

Hitting the frozen earth, I rolled. I had seconds—if that.

My limbs felt like lead, sluggish and slow, but I reached for my belt, anyway?—

Nothing.

No steel, no weapon. But I didn’t need steel. My power answered before I even thought to call it. The blade of light formed, pulsing in my grip.

Move. Now.

The mage twisted—the blade of light grazing his shoulder instead of his throat. He hissed, staggering back, magic sparking wildly. He flicked his arm and the detritus on the forest floor rose in the air. Rocks, branches, and the like surged toward me, but I didn’t let him finish.

Rushing forward, I slammed into him, knocking him off balance. We hit the ground hard, rolling, but I came out on top. The mage cursed as he grabbed for my throat, his blackened fingers cutting into my skin as I faked left.

Then I drove my dagger up, beneath his ribs.

Blood flowed over my hands as his eyes widened in what had to be shock. And then, I twisted the blade.

My ears rang as I scrambled to my feet, panting. My hands shook, my skin burned, the world blurred at the edges.

Then voices registered past my wheezing breaths and galloping heart.

More soldiers—they’d heard the fight, and now I was well and truly fucked.

Panic seized my chest as I grabbed the reins, vaulting onto the mare’s back.

Then I dug my heels in—hard—fleeing into the trees.

I needed to find that temple, yes.

But first, I needed to live.