Page 47 of Claimed In Darkness

47

ZEPHIRAN

T he first thing I notice is the blood.

My blood.

Dark, hot, seeping between my fingers as I press my palm against the wound she gave me.

She cut deep. Not enough to kill. But enough to remind me that she could have.

Enough to tell me that the next time—she will.

And still, I can’t fucking breathe.

Not from the wound.

But from the implication of what she just did.

From the finality of it.

From the truth I’ve been refusing to see since the moment she walked away from me.

Naira is gone.

She is never coming back.

My body wants to fall as I lost more blood.

The edges of my vision flicker. The earth sways beneath my boots. My grip on my sword wavers.

But I refuse.

I refuse to kneel for this.

To kneel for her.

To kneel for the woman who looked me in the fucking eyes and chose someone else.

Chose something else.

Chose war instead of me.

And yet?—

She didn’t kill me.

That is what fucking destroys me.

If only she had?—

If she had run me through, left me bleeding out on this battlefield, ended it where I stood?—

I could have believed she didn’t feel anything for me anymore.

Maybe, I could have told myself she was truly lost.

Perhaps, I might have detested her the way I need to.

But she didn’t. She let me live.

That is worse than anything I’ve ever experienced.

It means my Nairastill fighting it.

It means somewhere, beneath the relic’s power, beneath the monster they are trying to make her into, she still remembers.

Still remembers me.

That is a cruelty I’m not sure I can survive.

Thunder rumbles in the distance.

The smell of rain is thick in the air, mixing with the iron tang of blood and death.

My men are still fighting. Still killing.

But I don’t see anyone at all. Not past the place she just stood.

Not past the blood still staining her blade.

I remember the words brushed my ear when she whispered those last words.

"It took you long enough."

I want to laugh.How can I leave her alone when deep down I know she exists?

Is the remaining part of her worth fighting for?

The first drops of the rain hit my skin, cold against the heat of my blood.

I will have to choose.

Between chasing her?—

Or letting her go.

I should let her drown in the ruin she has chosen.

But I won’t.

She is still mine. I refuse to let this end here.

Even if she has given up?—

I haven’t.

She thinks I will let her disappear into the dark.

But she is wrong.

I am coming for her.

If she truly wants to bury what we were?—

She will have to fucking kill me first.