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18

LIORA

P ain pulses through me, a slow, relentless ache that weighs me down like chains of iron. My limbs refuse to move the way I want them to, and every breath feels sharp, raw against my ribs. I push myself up on trembling hands, fighting the blur edging my vision.

The beast is still there.

Stalking.

Waiting.

Its black eyes glimmer in the dying light, saliva dripping from jagged teeth, muscles tensing as it prowls closer. My pulse is a frantic thing, hammering against my ribs, but I can’t run. I don’t have the strength.

The wind shifts.

A shadow descends from the sky in a violent gust of air and dust, landing with the strength of a thunderclap.

Not Dain. A gargoyle.

The sheer size of him is overwhelming, thick obsidian skin marred with old scars, his massive wings unfurling as he lets out a low, guttural growl. His golden eyes flick to me for only a moment before turning to the beast.

He came for me.

The realization is colder than the wind cutting through the valley.

The beast lunges first, claws slashing, teeth snapping. The gargoyle meets it head-on, grappling with the creature, their bodies crashing into the rock with enough force to shake the ground beneath me.

I try to crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in my legs, the sharp sting of open wounds against the rough ground. I just need to put some distance between us.

A deafening snarl rips through the valley as the beast clamps its jaws onto the gargoyle’s shoulder, dark blood spilling onto the rocks. But the gargoyle is stronger. He wrenches free, tearing into the creature with brutal efficiency, claws raking, fangs sinking deep. The beast thrashes, shrieking, its body twisting in agony.

It falls still.

Blood pools around it, dark and steaming.

The gargoyle exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders, his golden eyes turning back to me.

His lips curl.

“Pathetic,” he mutters, stepping toward me.

I scramble back, but there’s nowhere to go. My body betrays me, my limbs too weak, my strength drained. He doesn’t rush. He takes his time, his wings shifting, casting long shadows across the stone.

“Dain abandoned you, didn’t he?” His voice is edged with cruel amusement. “Did you really think he would keep you?”

I glare up at him, refusing to let the fear show, even as my heart threatens to break through my ribs.

“He should have killed you when he had the chance,” the gargoyle continues, crouching beside me, his clawed fingers reaching for my throat. “But don’t worry. I’ll correct his mistake.”

The first blow splits my lip.

Pain explodes across my face, white-hot and dizzying. Blood fills my mouth, metallic and thick. I gasp, but his claws tighten in my hair, yanking my head back.

The next strike knocks me sideways, my vision flickering.

I won’t beg.

The world shudders.

The shadows around us shift, warping, curling inward like smoke in reverse.

The gargoyle freezes. The wind dies.

The darkness reaches for me.

It isn’t solid. It isn’t real. But it is there.

A presence. A hunger. A force older than anything I have ever felt, more ancient than even the ruins that sealed Dain away.

My mind screams to move, to run, to do something, anything?—

But I can’t.

It wants me.

It doesn’t whisper. It doesn’t speak. It doesn’t have a voice. It simply consumes.

The gargoyle stumbles back, snarling, wings snapping open, but he is nothing to it.

It doesn’t see him. It only sees me. This darkness that has been following Dain and me has finally taken form.

Pain erupts behind my eyes, tearing through my skull, ripping into me like unseen claws.

Memories that aren’t mine crash through me in a violent rush.

A woman stands before a great, seething void, her hands raised, light spilling from her palms, sealing something in a monstrous away.

The thing shrieks.

A voice, my own? Someone else's? It screams, “No, no, NO!”

The world is shaking.

The darkness reaches for me. And then, everything breaks.

A roar cuts through the storm, a force so powerful it shatters the unnatural silence.

Wings carve through the sky in a brutal, blinding force.

Dain. He doesn’t hesitate.

Doesn’t land.

Doesn’t waste a second.

He collides with the darkness like a living weapon, his claws raking through the formless void. Where the other gargoyle before couldn’t land a single blow, Dain cuts through it.

The thing shrieks, recoiling.

How is he hurting it?

The presence writhes, retreating into the shadows, retreating into the place it came from.

Dain doesn’t stop to look at what he’s done.

He lands, grabbing me without a word, his hands bruising in their intensity, and then we’re in the air, the wind whipping past us in a violent rush.

The sky swallows us.

The landing isn’t graceful.

Dain hits the ground hard, rolling as he clutches me against his chest. My body is battered, broken, every nerve screaming in protest, but I manage to shift, barely managing to push myself up, my vision spinning.

“Where the hell did you go?” My voice is hoarse, shaking, but I don’t care.

Dain says nothing.

His wings twitch, his breathing deep, slow, too controlled. His silence is heavy, his golden eyes burning with something I can’t decipher.

I shove against him, weak, desperate. “You left me!”

His hand snaps out, gripping my throat.

The world narrows to his hold, to his strength pressing against my pulse, to the fire in his gaze that looks more like a storm than anything else.

I clutch at his wrist, my body screaming in panic.

“Dain—”

He leans in, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

“This is because of you!”