Page 17 of Scorched by Fate (Drakarn Mates #3)

SEVENTEEN

SELENE

I tightened my grip on the woman's arm as her knees faltered, pulling her upright as the unstable ground shifted beneath us. Tiny cracks webbed across the ridge, sulfuric steam hissing erratically through stone. One wrong step and we wouldn’t just fall—we’d vanish into volcanic hell.

Her fingers clung to me like a lifeline, trembling so violently I thought she might hurt herself. She wasn’t just scared—she was unraveling. Her breath came shallow and unsteady, each gasp sharp enough to punch holes in her control. But I didn’t let go.

“Hey!” I snapped, keeping my voice low but firm. “Eyes on me. You’re okay—I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright? We’re getting out of this.”

A low, guttural roar erupted from higher up the ridge, rattling the heat-laden air around us. The sound froze her, her whole body tensing as she flinched hard into my side. I didn’t have to look to know where the fight was coming from. I trusted Vyne. I knew he wouldn’t let the bastard get anywhere near us—but she didn't.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, shifting my grip so I could keep her closer, steadier. “I need you to breathe. Deep and slow. Focus on my voice.”

Her whimper broke my momentum. It was a quiet, splintered sound full of something I recognized far too well—panic that didn’t just come from this one moment. This wasn’t fear of an immediate threat. This was someone who’d been living on edge for far too long, stripped bare by circumstance.

How was she here? There weren't supposed to be any humans on Volcaryth outside of my people back in Scalvaris. I wanted to ask, but she wasn't in any place to answer. Not yet.

“Come on. One step at a time. Don’t look back.” I spoke with layers of calm I didn’t feel, keeping it steady as the adrenaline clawed at my chest.

She stumbled, legs folding mid-step. My arm shot out, snapping around her waist to keep her upright. She gasped, her breath hitting like broken glass, but she didn’t try to resist when I steadied her again.

“Deep breaths,” I said, a little softer now. “You're doing fine. Just keep your feet—steady now.”

Her knuckles were bloodied, her fingers curling against me so tightly it felt like she’d carved grooves into my side. Too strong for her to be completely powerless, but too desperate for it to matter. She wasn’t thinking anymore; she was surviving on raw instinct, and I had to be enough for both of us.

Every inch we covered rattled underfoot. Tiny fragments of volcanic stone scattered with each shifting step. The ground hissed beneath us, not quite stable but stable enough. I kept us moving, slow and steady, even when my muscles barked protest. There wasn’t another choice—not if we wanted to live.

I let out a slow breath as the ridge sloped downward into smoother terrain. “Okay,” I murmured, more to myself than her, though she clung tighter in response. “We’re getting there. Just a little farther.”

Her head shook, her response staggered and broken. “I … didn’t think anyone …”

Her voice cracked into silence. Her whole body jolted against me when another echoing roar rippled through the air, closer this time.

Her trembling grew fiercer, her voice trembling loose again in barely audible fragments. “… anyone would come.”

The words, slurred and barely there, hit somewhere I couldn’t place. My jaw tightened. But this wasn’t the moment—not to process, not to dig deeper. Her survival— our survival—had to come first.

“You’re not alone now,” I told her plainly, adjusting my grip as the incline leveled out into an uneven path along the ridge’s edge. My boots skidded, but I dug in to steady us both. “Keep moving. We’re almost there.”

I could see the edge of the campsite past an outcropping, and for the first time since we’d started moving, relief crept into my chest.

Just a little farther. We could make it.

The ground leveled out beneath us just as her knees gave way completely. She collapsed where she stood, crumpling back against the blackened rock. Her thin shoulders heaved with each gulp of air, trembling as though even breathing was a battle she wasn’t sure she could win.

I crouched in front of her, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder to hold her steady, grounded. “You’re safe,” I told her, my own breath pushing hard through my lungs. “Do you hear me? We’re safe for now. Breathe.” A pause. “In through your nose—slow. I need you to slow it down.”

Her bloodshot eyes, wide and panicked, snapped to mine. They searched me wildly as if looking for any crack in my composure that might justify her spiraling fear. I didn’t give her one. I stayed rock-solid in front of her, forcing calm into my voice where my muscles only screamed for rest.

She nodded shakily and dragged an uneven breath through her nose. It hitched but didn’t spiral right away. Promising. The next breath was a bit steadier, though still a far cry from ideal.

“Good,” I said, my voice lowering into something soothing, steady. “Keep it up. You’re okay—we’re okay.”

Even as I reassured her, I couldn’t stop my clinical instincts from taking inventory. Up close, she was worse off than I’d realized. Deep bruises shadowed her skin, swelling and discoloration scattered unevenly between deep gashes and ugly scrapes. Her clothes were burnt and torn, as if she’d crawled out of the steam vents themselves.

Too thin. Ribs showing beneath her battered skin, her limbs trembling from both dehydration and exhaustion. She was a human-shaped survival instinct at this point, hurt and collapsed within herself, and still somehow breathing.

“What’s your name?” I asked as I reached for my supply pack.

Her lips trembled, just shy of a reply. Then the quietest whisper slipped through her cracked mouth. “Reika,” she rasped, the word catching like shards in her throat.

“Reika,” I repeated gently, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Alright, Reika. I’m Selene. Nice to meet you.” I unclipped the tiny water pouch from my kit, ignoring how worryingly little remained inside. “Here. Drink—but slow, alright? Don’t push it too fast.”

Her trembling hands reached out, faltering before brushing the pouch. For a split second, I thought it might drop between us, wasted completely. But she managed, gripping the edge with shaking fingers and raising it hesitantly to her lips. Her gaze stayed pinned on me the entire time, like she was waiting for me to snatch it back or slap it from her hands.

Small, steady sips left little trickles at her mouth’s edge, but she didn’t choke, didn’t splutter.

“Good,” I said. Her breaths came easier now—rough, yes, but better. “Alright, let’s take a closer look at those cuts.”

She didn’t protest when I reached for her forearm. An ugly gash ran deep enough to graze muscle beneath her sunburned skin. I grabbed what supplies I could from the remains of my med kit, working quickly to clean it out.

“This one’s going to sting,” I warned her quietly. “Tell me if it hurts, and we can stop.”

“Why … why are you helping me?”

I paused and really looked at her. It wasn't suspicion I saw there. It wasn’t anger or even gratitude. Just … confusion. Unfiltered confusion that radiated like a wound of its own.

“Because you need it.” The simplicity of my tone didn’t waver as I resumed cleaning the wound. “I'm a medic. That’s how this works.”

Her silence spoke louder than anything else after that.

I finished wrapping her forearm, then moved lower to inspect the uneven swelling along one ankle. There were blisters there, crackling like ruptured masses across swollen flesh. The burns from running this volcanic hellscape were clear—painful and likely pricking at every nerve with hot rods of agony. She clenched her jaw tight as I lifted the ankle, saying nothing but letting out a sharp, unsteady exhale as I worked.

“Alright, I’ve got you,” I murmured when her trembling turned harsher at one particularly deep press. “Stay with me. You’ll be good as new in no time.”

A weak scoff croaked out despite her pain—brief, edged with disbelief but still there. That was something. I gave her a short glance, arching my brow in mock challenge.

“Too soon for jokes,” she rasped.

I shrugged, the corner of my mouth twitching into a hint of a smirk. “It beats screaming.”

She blinked like she didn’t know how to respond to that, and I turned my focus back to her injury. The bandages pulled tight against the weakened joint, stabilizing it enough. I couldn’t promise miracles, but she’d survive. That was enough for now.

The beat of wings blew hot rock dust toward us. My pulse jumped, though not out of fear this time. I straightened, glancing behind me just as Vyne picked his landing spot across the wide edge of our makeshift perch.

The impressive slam of his claws against the charred rock sent tremors skittering along the stone. His bloodied scales caught the dim light, and there were brutal shadows around him. His scent made the air sharper, though it wasn’t rage he carried back with him.

Reika stiffened to stone beside me.

“Shit,” I cursed. Her head snapped toward Vyne, and her eyes exploded with panic. Every trace of calm dissolved before I could react further.

She screamed. Loud, wrenching, full of wretched terror that ripped the fragile silence apart. Before I could think to restrain her, she scrambled blindly against the rough slope, dragging herself backward on bloodied palms and shaking arms.

“Reika!” My voice was sharp, a cutting force meant to ground her. “Stop! He’s not going to hurt you.”

Her panic swelled even more, animalistic and frantic, fueled by something deep and unrelenting. Her lips trembled, chest heaving violently. “M-monster!” she stuttered, though it fractured midway between a sob and a hiccup of air. “He’s one of them! He’s—he’s?—”

“Enough,” Vyne’s command thundered ahead of him, barbed and hard enough to shake the air itself. It hit like steel clashing against metal, his low growl carrying authority designed to break panic rather than stir it.

Reika froze completely. Her body locked, trembling harder now, on the perilous edge of total collapse.

I shifted between her and Vyne, one hand lightly pressed to her shoulder again as I murmured quiet reassurances. “You’re safe. He’s with me. He won't hurt you.”

Vyne’s glinting, yellow gaze burned sharp through the remnants of smoke between us—controlled, restrained. After a long beat, he stepped back, his wings folding tight.

“You’re hurt,” he rumbled at me. His voice was low, tension radiating from every fiber of his frame.

“I’m fine. Bruised, maybe,” I said quickly, brushing dust from my scratched forearms. I was too focused on Reika to think about my own pain.

When the silence stretched too long, I sighed, folding my arms across my chest to mask my wobbling exhaustion. “Seriously, Vyne. It’s nothing.”

“You’ve seen better days,” he growled softly, moving closer with talon-scraping steps over the rock. His chin tipped down, eyes locking onto mine.

Reika hissed in a sharp breath and started to judder with fear. Her breaths came in fast. She was hyperventilating now.

If I couldn’t calm her down, I had no idea what to do. We couldn’t just leave her there.

“He’s different from them. Trust me. I wouldn’t bring a threat near you.”

Her lips quivered, every line in her face clinging to disbelief like it was the only thing between her and oblivion. “You don’t know,” she whispered, broken and terrified. “You don’t understand.”

“Maybe not,” I said softly, still holding her gaze. "Look at me, Reika. I know enough to bet my life on him. I need you to trust me, just for now. Believe me when I say you’re safe with us.”

Her breathing continued to hitch, but the trembling slowed a little, her muscles inching closer to unfrozen. She shuddered—not entirely convinced, but no longer drowning in pure terror.

“We need to leave,” Vyne said. His eyes swept over both of us, lingering on Reika just a beat longer before cutting back to me. “More are coming. They’ll smell their fallen before long, and when they do, they won’t come alone.”

I looked at Reika, her fragile state etched in the tight cords of her trembling frame. She’d stopped trying to crawl away, but her fear still radiated like heat, coiling tense and unrelenting. She wouldn’t make it far on her own, and carrying her across the ridges would slow all three of us to a death sentence.

I didn’t allow my focus to linger long before shifting it to Vyne. His massive wings, even folded tightly against his back, couldn’t hide the damage stretching from the nasty tear along the edge. Blood seeped out with each twitch of his movements, though he held himself upright, impassive. His strength was undeniable—but strength had its limits, and his were closer than he let on.

He was hurting. She was barely holding on. And all I could do was try to hold the weight of that in both hands without anyone slipping through.

“We need speed,” Vyne said, bracing one shoulder against the rock as though the admission itself irritated him. “I can fly her ahead. There’s a second ridge farther west—secluded enough to lose the Ignarath if we move quickly. She’ll be safer there.”

“No,” Reika rasped, cutting him off violently before I could answer. Her voice cracked on the word, panic rising sharp as claws, latching onto any semblance of control she thought she could salvage. “No. You can’t—you can’t let him take me.”

Her breath grew rough again, and she pressed herself harder into the rock, trembling visible anew. “He’s just like them. I can’t— I won’t—” Her words stuttered, and she started shaking again.

“Reika,” I interrupted, kneeling down and catching her frantic gaze before the spiral could fully consume her again. “Reika, listen to me. He’s not like them. I need you to hear me.”

She shook her head so hard I feared she might hurt her neck, her wide-eyed panic driving her further into denial. “You don’t understand!”

“Then help me understand.” My voice stayed firm—unshaking, despite exhaustion pressing cracks into my resolve. “Tell me what happened.”

Her body jolted at the words, her gasp rough and staccato, but she stopped moving. Her trembling didn’t vanish, but she stared at me now, not through me. Something in her wild gaze softened—or at least tolerated the possibility that my words weren’t a trap.

I exhaled, gesturing between the three of us. “We don’t have options right now. We can't win if more come. So, here’s the question: are you willing to get out of here alive, or do you want to face the Ignarath again?”

She didn’t answer. Her lips pressed thin and pale, punctuated with blood pricking at the cracks. Her eyes tipped downward—not toward rocky escape paths, not back toward Vyne.

After what felt like minutes compressed into seconds, she nodded—the smallest, reluctant tilt of her head. "No flying," she insisted.

I swallowed hard against the surge of frustration. Turning, I met Vyne’s gaze. “We have to walk,” I said, my tone final. “You need to rest your wing.”

“You’re too stubborn for your own good,” he muttered, more to himself than me. But he didn’t argue. That told me how much his wing had to be hurting.

He took a careful step back, giving Reika space to breathe even as his presence still filled the ridge's confined air. And with that same controlled precision, he angled closer to me, his body a fortress of heat and vigilance.

“She won’t keep pace long,” he warned, though his tone had softened by now. “If her strength fails?—”

“It won’t,” I said, cutting him off. The conviction in my voice tasted stubborn even to myself. “We’ll figure it out.”

I turned back toward Reika and extended a hand once more. She hesitated just a fraction before gripping it shakily and standing.

I hitched my pack over my shoulder and tried not to think of the vyrathis inside as Vyne led the way down a narrow path.