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LIORA

T he wind tears at me as I fall. Cold and brutal, it whistles past my ears, howling like a beast savoring its next kill.

The world spins, weightless yet crushing, the pull of gravity relentless. I should be afraid. I should be screaming. But all I hear are whispers. They slither through my mind like silk and venom, a language both foreign and familiar.

You were not supposed to exist.

My heart lurches. A vision unfurls, flickering in and out of clarity, a woman standing in the same space I once stood, dressed in flowing white, her golden hair catching the light of an unseen sun. Her lips move, murmuring incantations I do not understand yet feel in my bones. The edges of my vision darken. The whispers tighten around me.

Amara.

My stomach clenches at the name. My chest seizes with a pain that does not belong to me.

The river below rushes closer, jagged rocks lining the shore, waiting to break me. The icy grip of reality shatters the vision as my body braces for impact?—

But I don’t hit the water.

Something catches me.

Not something, someone.

Dain’s arms clamp around me like iron, the force of his grip nearly knocking my breath away. His wings beat furiously against the wind, fighting against my momentum, but it isn’t enough.

We plummet together.

The river slams into us with merciless force. The cold is a dagger to my ribs, shocking the air from my lungs in a violent burst. The current is a living thing, a monster dragging me under, coiling around me, determined to pull me into its depths.

I thrash. My limbs burn, my lungs scream, my mind begs.

Hands, unyielding, punishing, it seize me.

Dain.

He drags me up, breaking the surface in a desperate gasp. My chest convulses, coughing, retching water from my lungs. The sky is blackened with storm clouds, the night air thick with rain and rage. The river fights to reclaim me, but Dain’s grip doesn’t falter. He hauls me toward the jagged riverbank, his strength tearing me from the water’s grip, forcing me onto the cold, uneven rocks.

I collapse, heaving, trembling, my body raw from the impact.

Silence stretches between us, heavy, suffocating. Water drips from my hair, seeping into my clothes, making the cold worse. My pulse hammers in my ears, but it’s nothing compared to the heat of Dain’s gaze.

He stands over me, soaking wet, his wings shaking, his chest moves up and down in sharp, furious breaths.

He moves.

His hand snaps to my throat, not squeezing, but holding, warning.

"Why did you stop me?" My voice is hoarse, barely audible over the river’s roar. My body shakes, but not from the cold. I push at his chest, weak but insistent. "Why couldn’t you let me go?"

Dain doesn’t answer right away. His expression is unreadable, but his hold on me is crushing, a grip meant for restraint, not comfort.

His lips curl, and his voice is dark, vicious. "You don’t get to choose when this ends."

The words slam into me harder than the river. My breath comes out ragged, my pulse spiking.

"You—!" I shove at him again, useless against his weight, but the frustration surges out of me in unstoppable waves. "You have no right to decide that for me!"

His grip tightens, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind me that he could.

"I have every right."

The words coil between us like a threat, like a vow. His face is too close, his expression wild, anger, desperation, something darker swirling beneath the surface.

"Let me go," I whisper.

His jaw tenses.

Finally, he releases me.

I shove away from him, gasping, shaking. My body feels unsteady, the bond between us burning like a fresh wound. My pulse refuses to slow, my chest heaving with emotions I can’t begin to untangle. Rage. Confusion. Fear. Something else.

Dain watches me, unreadable, his chest still rising and falling in sharp breaths. His wings flex, the tension in his body lethal, like a predator barely holding back.

"Why did you jump?" His voice is quieter now, but no less intense.

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

I don’t have an answer that will satisfy him.

Because deep down, I don’t understand it either.

Everything crashes into me at once. The whispers, the visions, the name Amara. The feeling that I am not just myself, that something else stirs inside me, something ancient and wrong.

I lift my gaze to Dain’s, and freeze.

Something shifts behind him.

The shadows move.

A chill rakes down my spine, the hairs on my arms standing on end. The very air around us thickens, heavy with something unseen but felt in the deepest part me.

Dain goes rigid.

His claws flex, the sharp glint of his fangs bared before he even turns to face it.

We are not alone.

A low, guttural sound rumbles through the air, a voice without words, an entity without form.

It followed us.

Dain moves before I can react. His wings flare, shielding me, his entire stance shifting into something lethal.

The shadows pulse. The presence is closer than ever. Watching. Waiting.

It whispers my name.

Not Liora.

"Amara."