Page 40

I nod, swallowing. “A stream, and these.” I hold up the pale blossoms. “They might help clean your wounds.” A tremor shakes my hands. “I’m not an herbalist, but I’ll do what I can.”

He offers a faint nod of thanks, pain etched on his face.

Gently, I peel back the bandages on his wing stumps, ignoring the coil of nausea at the sight of dried blood and charred flesh.

My eyes burn with tears, but I keep them at bay.

Focus. I dampen a cloth with water, wipe away the crusted grime, and apply the blossoms’ sap with careful dabs.

Korrin groans, muscles tensing. My breath hitches. I hate causing him pain.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, tears brimming. “I— I don’t want to cause you harm.”

He bites back a groan, forcing a shaky smile. “Better pain than infection,” he murmurs. “I trust you, Elyria.” A flush of warmth battles my despair, hearing that quiet devotion. He trusts me, even now.

Methodically, I rebind the stumps with fresh strips from my cloak. My own arms sting where the dark elves scored me, but I ignore it. Korrin’s survival matters more. Each bandage snug, I settle back, panting from the exertion. He slumps against the rock, eyelids drooping.

The hush that follows feels oddly serene.

The valley remains empty, the morning air crisp.

I close my eyes for a moment, letting his presence ground me.

Then, heart hammering, I lean in, brushing a tender kiss across his lips.

He responds with a soft exhale, pressing back, tears sliding down his cheeks.

The taste of salt and sweat tangles on my tongue.

Romance and heartbreak fuse in my chest, a swirl of gratitude that we’re not parted by death.

When we break apart, breath ragged, I rest my forehead to his. “I love you,” I say, voice trembling. “No matter what hunts us, we’ll face it together.”

He nods, tears trailing into his stubble. “I love you, too. I gave up the clan for you, and I’d do it again,” he whispers. The sincerity in his eyes anchors me. We are each other’s lifeline now.

Time drifts as we gather ourselves. My mind churns with ways to escape further into the mountains, maybe find a hidden cave or old ruins where we can hide.

Korrin dozes fitfully, still weakened by blood loss.

My eyes roam the rocky slopes, alert for any sign of pursuit. We can’t remain here indefinitely.

Midday sun creeps overhead, warming the stones.

Korrin manages to stand with my help, though he leans heavily on my shoulder.

We begin limping across the valley floor, scanning for a path that might lead to a forested ridge beyond.

If we can reach tree cover, we can build a more secure shelter, maybe hunt small game.

We must keep moving. Our footprints smear blood across the stones—a trail any decent tracker could follow.

Anxiety gnaws at me, fueling each shaky step.

We’ve only covered a few hundred yards when I hear the unmistakable scuff of footsteps behind us, accompanied by a sharp hiss in a language I recognize all too well: dark elves.

My pulse skyrockets. No. We turn, hearts hammering.

Two elves emerge from behind a boulder, crossbows leveled.

My stomach plummets. They’re battered, indicating they might have survived the fortress chaos, searching for us or returning to their own lines.

I glance frantically at Korrin. He’s in no condition to fight.

My own powers remain unsteady— I can’t summon a storm at will.

But I must protect him. The elves scowl, stepping forward.

“Purna,” one growls, face twisted in malice.

“And the wingless gargoyle. Perfect. The fortress collapsed around us, but you can’t escape. ”

I brace Korrin behind me, heart thudding. If they fire those crossbows, we’re done. But I refuse to surrender. My collar rattles, half-broken. Rage at all they put me through flares hot. “Leave us,” I warn, voice trembling with suppressed fear. “We have nothing you want.”

The second elf bares his teeth, crossbow aimed at Korrin.

“Wrong. The bounty on your heads is worth a small fortune.” He sneers.

“Not to mention how the clan will pay for your demise. If the Alpha survived, he’d reward us.

Or the dark elves can keep you for their own uses.

” His eyes flick to me, a lecherous gleam.

Korrin stiffens, trying to stand straighter. “You won’t take her,” he rasps, voice hoarse. He can barely hold his stance. My heart clenches. The elves exchange smirks, seeing how weak he is.

A wave of protective fury floods me. I must act. I can’t conjure a huge storm again, but maybe I can muster enough spark to disrupt their crossbows, buy us time. Silver flickers along my fingertips, responding to my desperation. The elves notice, eyes widening in alarm.

“She’s building magic!” one shouts, raising his crossbow to fire.

I fling out my hand. A small arc of silver lightning darts across the rocks, snapping with static.

The crossbow malfunctions, the bolt misfiring into the ground with a sharp crack.

The elf yelps, stumbling back. The second elf, however, fires his shot at Korrin.

My heart nearly stops. “No!” I scream, tackling Korrin sideways. The bolt whistles past, grazing his bandaged side. He hisses in pain as I half-collapse with him, my chain clanging on the stones. The elves reload in frantic haste.

I scramble upright, summoning that spark again.

My entire body shakes. The collar’s dead runes hamper me less than before, but my magic is still sporadic.

Another burst of silver arcs from my palm, striking the second elf’s crossbow.

The weapon sparks, forcing him to drop it with a curse.

Smoke rises from scorched metal. A surge of relief hits me—I disabled both crossbows.

But the elves can still fight with daggers.

Sure enough, they draw short blades, exchanging a glance. One leaps at me with a snarl, the other circles toward Korrin. I brace for a close-quarters fight, terror filling me—my wrists are still raw, and the half-broken collar dangles from my neck. Korrin can barely stand. But we must try.

The first elf’s blade slices at my collarbone.

I recoil, managing to block with my chain-laden forearm.

Pain lances through me, but I grit my teeth and push back.

He’s stronger, trained in close combat, while I only learned scraps from Korrin’s frantic lessons.

Yet I recall enough to pivot aside, letting him overextend.

With a trembling hand, I release a minor spark of silver force at his side.

It’s not much, but enough to make him flinch.

I dive forward, slamming my knee into his stomach.

He grunts, staggering. My breath ragged, I try to follow up, but my chain tangles my feet. Damn these shackles.

On my right, the second elf lunges for Korrin.

Korrin tries to dodge, but the movement reopens his wounds.

He cries out, dropping to one knee. Panic grips me.

He’s helpless. The elf grins, raising his blade for a killing strike.

I can’t reach them in time physically. I must fling magic again.

Summoning a desperate spark, I fling my arm outward, trying to recall the feeling of unleashed power.

For a heartbeat, nothing. My heart clenches.

No, no, no. Then a tiny jolt flickers along my palm, just enough to distract the elf.

He jerks sideways, the blade slicing into Korrin’s shoulder instead of his throat. Korrin roars in agony.

Fury ignites a deeper surge in me. They won’t kill him.

This time, a sharper arc of silver lightning crackles from my fingertips, slamming into the elf’s chest. He’s thrown back with a scream, dropping the blade.

My mind reels at the raw violence, but I can’t stop.

Protect Korrin. The elf hits the ground, twitching, eyes rolling back.

The second elf recovers from my earlier knee strike, eyes wide with horror.

He glances at his fallen partner, then at me, fresh arcs dancing around my trembling arms. I must look half-insane, hair wild, face streaked with tears, collar half-shorn from my neck.

He curses in the dark elf tongue, turning to flee.

Relief floods me. He’s running. I lurch forward, but my chain snags again, nearly causing me to trip.

I watch him vanish into the boulders, presumably to warn others.

My chest heaves. No time to chase him. Korrin’s bleeding out.

I drop to Korrin’s side, tears slipping from my cheeks.

“No, no,” I whisper, pressing my hand over the fresh wound at his shoulder.

Dark blood seeps through my fingers, adding to the gashes on his wing stumps.

He moans, eyes squeezed shut. My mind roils: we can’t keep fighting off squads like this, not with him so wounded and my magic so erratic. We need to get somewhere safe.

His lashes flutter. “Elyria,” he rasps, voice so faint. “S-sorry. I can’t… stand.”

I cradle his cheek, tears falling onto his battered skin.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” I hiss, trying to hide my terror.

“We’ll get through this.” My gaze darts around.

The elf I hit with lightning lies unconscious or dead, the other fled.

We have moments at best. We must move. But how? Korrin can barely stand.

My chest constricts with panic. Then, an idea tugs at me from the memory of that unstoppable power in the arena.

I recall how, in my final surge, I lifted a wave that flung heavy gargoyles aside.

Could I use it to carry Korrin, to flee swiftly?

The thought terrifies me—my control is so unrefined.

I might harm him further or cause us both to crash. But we’re out of options.