Page 10

10

LIORA

T he sky swallows him whole.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t linger. Doesn’t even look back.

One moment, he’s standing there, his expression unreadable, his molten eyes boring into mine with something too sharp, too heavy. After that, he is gone.

Wings snap open, their sheer size casting shadows against the jagged rocks as he ascends. The wind takes him, lifts him into the storm-darkened sky, and my breath locks in my throat.

I should have expected it.

I should have known.

But it still feels like a knife in my heart, twisting. Why is that? It’s not as if we’re friends. I sigh, shaking my head. I need to continue moving.

The mountains stretch endlessly before me, cold, empty, merciless. The wind howls, biting into my soaked skin, rattling through the hollow space he left behind. The river rages somewhere below, still roaring from the escape that nearly killed us, but up here—I am alone.

I stare at the place where he stood, where his warmth still lingers in the air, where the imprint of his claws is etched into the damp rock.

I shudder, wrapping my arms around myself, trying to ignore the way my body still aches from the fight, from the river, from his… company even if it was for a short time only.

Fool.

I shake my head, exhaling sharply. I can’t afford to waste time. Standing here, waiting for him to change his mind, would be worse than death.

I force my legs to move.

The ground beneath my feet is uneven, slick with mist. The climb down will be treacherous, but I have no other choice. There’s no shelter here, no food, no fire, no warmth—nothing but stone and sky and the memory of his hands pulling me up just to leave me behind.

The descent is slow. My limbs protest every step, screaming against the exhaustion I refuse to acknowledge. I slide on loose rock more times than I care to count, my fingers scraping over jagged edges as I steady myself.

The sun is hidden behind thick clouds, casting the world in gray and silver, a land untouched by mercy. I scan the horizon, searching for anything—a path, a cave, a way forward.

I have to keep moving.

But the cold sinks in.

It starts in my fingers, creeping up my arms, digging into my ribcage. I shake, my soaked dress clinging to me like ice. My skin feels stretched too tight, my breath thin in the mountain air.

Dain had been warm. Too warm.

Even after the river, even after the cold wrapped around us both, his body had radiated heat, a furnace beneath all that stone and flesh.

Now, it is gone.

I rub my arms, pressing forward.

The sky darkens, thunder rumbling somewhere beyond the peaks.

I need to find shelter.

Something is watching me.

I feel it before I see it.

That same presence from the cavern, the one that lingered in the dark, waiting, patient, expectant.

I freeze, pulse hammering. My eyes dart across the terrain, but there’s nothing—just the mountains, just the endless stretch of rock and mist.

But I am not alone.

Something is out there.

Waiting. What are you?

I move forward slowly. The wind howls through the cliffs, drowning out all other sounds, but I swear—I swear I hear breathing.

It isn’t Dain.

No wings beat against the wind, no heat pulses in the air.

This is something else.

Something older.

Something worse.

I swallow hard and force my feet to keep moving. I can’t stay here.

The mountain path curves, leading me lower. The air thickens, damp with the remnants of past storms, and in the distance—something flickers.

I stop.

A light.

Small, barely visible through the mist, but real.

A campfire? A village? People?

My heart pounds.

It could be danger. It could be worse than the dark elves. But standing here, freezing, exhausted, completely alone—I don’t have a choice.

I move toward it, my steps careful, every breath measured.

The wind shifts, carrying something faint, almost familiar.

Smoke. Wood burning. And something richer. Something earthy, musky, alive.

I pause, inhaling slowly.

Not human.

The realization coils in my stomach like a warning.

I hesitate.

My legs buckle, my body giving in to exhaustion, and I no longer have the strength to care.