Page 70 of Darkness Births the Stars #1
Her silver eyes holding a raging light as she wielded Starfire in a bright arc of steel and magic, the dark blood of her enemies splattered over her face.
My wild, beautiful queen. She had come for me. She was here by my side, and together we could achieve anything.
Our hands closed over the dagger’s hilt, intertwined.
Our minds did the same, and Chaos magic roared through our connection, raw and untamed.
For one endless moment, I drowned in it all.
In her, in the power, in the feeling of sheer rightness.
This was what we were made for: riding the storm, controlling its power.
Yet I could already feel the limitations of our mortal bodies, the returning sting of fire in my veins. I had to rein in the magic or it would consume us both. I’d be damned if I allowed her to come to harm because of my weakness.
This time, the magic followed my call, flowing into the dagger.
I deepened our kiss, thrusting my tongue deep into the sweet heat of Rada’s mouth while simultaneously bringing down our hands.
The magic burst forth, blazing through us and into the ground, propelling mud and rainwater skyward in a resonating shockwave.
Our connection broke beneath the onslaught and I stumbled back, forced to let go of Rada and the dagger.
The afterglow of the explosion danced before my eyes. When I could see again, relief swept over me. We had done it. The Chaos storm had quieted.
I turned to Rada beside me, taking in her pale face, the inviting bow of her lips, her fierce gaze.
Need reawakened inside me, undeniable in its intensity.
I reached for her instinctually, tangling my hand in the hair at the base of her neck, arching her head back with a firm tug. She inhaled sharply.
An animal’s distressed cry cut through the tension before I could bridge the distance between us again.
Rada ripped herself from my grip, already running.
She fell to her knees in the mud, the shadow of a broken tree looming over her, the darker silhouette of an injured arak twitching in agony below.
After picking up the Chaosdagger, I trailed behind her, my trepidation growing.
The arak, lively Itzi, was trapped under the weight of the tree, her legs kicking futilely in the air as she struggled in vain to free herself.
Only one leg remained still, the fractured bone gleaming white in the dim light, her blood soaking the dark fur and the mud below.
“We have to get her out of there.” Rada frantically tried to pull on the animal and the tree.
“Baradaz…” I stepped closer and touched her arm, knowing there was nothing we could do. Even if we moved the tree, transporting an animal of such size and weight was impossible. There was no way to take Itzi to a place where she could recover.
Rada’s hands sank down. Her eyes met mine, the same hopeless realization shining in them.
“Take the others to the barn,” she said, her voice hoarse. “I’ll stay with her.”
For a moment, I contemplated opposing her suggestion. I knew what I had sensed as the storm had descended upon us. Someone had sent it after us. Whoever it was might attack us in the aftermath, using our distraction to their advantage.
Itzi moaned and twitched in misery, her big, brown eyes full of fear.
“Go!” Rada threw a desperate look at me. And I understood. There was no hope for the arak. Yet Rada would not forsake her in these final moments.
As I hesitated, I felt the Chaosdagger pulse in my hand. Curse it, the bloody thing would lead the Chiasma straight to us. I had to return it to the lyr -stone chest as quickly as possible.
“I’ll hurry,” I promised, squeezing Rada’s hand before forcing myself to walk away.
Alma had turned back toward us in concern, and I reassured her with a pat on her flank.
Time slowed to a crawl until I had reached the farm and herded the araks inside the barn.
As I had hoped, Nacin was already there, snorting and trembling at the entrance.
I swiftly secured the animals and dashed back to the house.
Thankfully, Rada had left the door to her guest room unlocked after my snooping the other day.
I threw the dagger back in the chest and grabbed Rada’s spear from the kitchen where she had left it earlier.
It was heavy in my hands as I braved the rain to return to her side.
To my relief, she and Itzi were exactly where I had left them.
The arak had calmed, her breaths slow and labored.
Rada cradled Itzi’s massive head against her own much smaller form as the soft rain drizzled down on them both.
Her red-rimmed eyes met mine, the distress on her face growing as she saw the weapon in my hands.
She remained silent, continuing to caress the wounded animal.
“The rest of the herd is safely in the barn,” I said, crouching beside her. When I received no response, I gestured toward Itzi. “Perhaps it would be best if you waited for me on the path leading to the farm.”
To my astonishment, Rada got up at once after pressing her face against Itzi’s fur for a moment and whispering something in her ear, tired resignation in her every movement.
The old Baradaz would have argued with me, would have come up with some improbable plan to save the arak.
That she did not told me—more than anything else since I had come to her farm—that Rada had not gone through this war unscathed.
She had lost some of her stubborn will and her steadfast belief that good would always triumph in the end.
She was harder, less idealistic than I remembered. Something within her had broken. I feared I had broken it. May I be damned to the darkest reaches of the Abyss.
I stroked Itzi’s flank one last time, the arak’s brown eyes disconcertingly trusting. “Farewell, little troublemaker.”
My aim was true. It was over in an instant, one last shudder going through the massive body.
The wet slide of the spear into flesh, the smell of fresh blood—these were inconsequential compared to the strangled sob that rang out behind me. A sound so full of utter desolation, it was painful to hear. Rada had not listened to my advice. Of course not.