Page 10

CHAPTER

TEN

For two days, we’ve travelled—me on Geralt’s back, Jamie and Calythra on Ridge, while Solan has stayed on foot. The sun hasn’t been as intense as the rays that beat down on me the day before my life changed irrevocably, a relief considering the number of craggy rocks that we’ve had to sweet talk the horses to trek over.

We’ve stopped for a few breaks, sometimes pushing on despite knowing Jamie was struggling. Other times, I insisted we stop when I saw him slumping forwards on the saddle, Calythra preventing him from slipping off with a careful grip. And last night we slept under the stars that I’m convinced are identical to the constellations in my world.

My dad would have known. For all his grumpy ways and his inability to stop and rest, the night sky had always shown me a different side to him. He’d regularly sat under the floating patterns of glistening stars, staring up and describing what he saw, the mythology and the mystery. The names had never sunk in, something I now regretted, but that thought doesn’t stop me settling down with a smile for my second night under the stars.

“What is it about the stars that causes this?” Solan strokes his fingertips gently over my cheek, finishing with a slow stroke of my lips.

With his arm as my pillow, I feel safe and surprisingly comfortable. It’s the first time I’ve been able to relax all day, too wary of our surrounds, too concerned for Jamie. Only now, with his soft, sleepy breaths floating in the air a few metres away, am I able to truly catch my breath. “They remind me of home, my dad.” I keep peering at the inky-black sky.

“They make you feel close to him,” he states, and I nod despite him not having asked me a question.

“They do. Beyond the Southern Cross and the Great Bear, I could never remember the constellations. But I recall him pointing them out to me, telling me their stories. He used to say they were a map for the soul.”

Solan hums softly, still tracing idle patterns against my skin. “A map for the soul,” he repeats, the words heavy with thought. “It’s a beautiful idea. Perhaps these stars are guiding us too.”

“Maybe.” I tilt my head to meet his gaze. His golden eyes glow faintly in the dim starlight, full of warmth and intensity. “Do they mean anything to you? In your world?”

His expression softens as he considers my question. “In my world, the stars were considered… warnings, signs of what might come. But here, they feel different. They don’t hold the same weight of fate.” His fingers still on my lips for a moment, then slide down to rest lightly against my throat. “Here, they feel like a reminder that there’s more. That no matter what happens, there’s something vast and unchanging beyond all this chaos.”

I smile at the sentiment, feeling a flicker of comfort. “That’s a nice thought.”

“It’s you,” he murmurs, leaning closer. “You remind me there’s more. That there’s still a future worth fighting for.”

Solan’s fingers return to my face and trace along my jawline, slow and deliberate, the warmth of his touch grounding me. The gentle pressure steadies the current of emotions surging between us even as his gaze searches mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch.

And no bullshit, I’m close to damn swooning. Have you ever heard prettier words? ’Cause I absolutely have not.

“You’re my tether,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough like gravel smoothed by time. “No matter what happens, no matter where this road takes us—you’re my anchor. My reason.”

I don’t know what to say to that. His words are heavy with meaning, a weight I’m not sure I can carry but also can’t imagine letting go of. Instead, I lean in, letting my lips find his in a kiss that starts as soft as a whisper.

It deepens quickly. Solan’s hand moves to cradle the back of my head, tilting me closer. His lips part against mine, and the taste of him sends a shiver down my spine. It’s not frantic or hurried; it’s deliberate and consuming, the kind of kiss that demands everything and gives me everything in return. His other hand slips around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat matching my own.

I lose myself in the feel of him—the heat of his mouth, the roughness of his palm against my lower back, the quiet, desperate sound he makes when I sigh into the kiss. It’s overwhelming and perfect, and it’s everything I didn’t know I needed until now.

But reality crashes back too quickly. A branch creaks somewhere in the distance—likely Calythra shifting his weight in the tree—and I pull back, reluctantly breaking the connection. My forehead rests against Solan’s as we both catch our breath, the night air cool against my flushed skin.

“We can’t,” I whisper even though my body protests the words. “Not here.”

His golden eyes flicker with frustration, but he nods, pressing one last featherlight kiss to my lips before pulling back. “You’re right,” he concedes, his voice tinged with regret. “But don’t think I won’t find a better time.”

I laugh softly, brushing my fingers over the soft skin of his jaw. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Solan grumbles, a low sound of frustration that makes me laugh. “It’s unfair,” he mutters, his hand sliding down to rest on my hip. “You make me forget everything else.”

“I know,” I admit, still smiling. “But we have bigger things to worry about right now.”

He sighs even as his gaze softens. “The rebellion,” he says, and it’s clear the shift in focus is as much to ground himself as it is to inform me. “What else do you want to know?”

“Everything,” I admit, settling against him, his arm once again my makeshift pillow. “But start with what you think is most important. You know a hell of a lot more about this world than I do.”

Solan’s brow furrows slightly as he considers my question. “The Riftborn… they’re not a united front. Not entirely, I don’t think. They’re made up of different groups—some of them fiercely independent, others willing to work together for a greater cause. The problem is, their goals aren’t always aligned. Some want to overthrow the realm completely, dismantle its structure, and start over. Others just want equal rights for those not born here.”

“Like you. And me.”

He nods, his jaw tightening. “Like us. But even within the rebellion, there’s disagreement. Some believe those not born of this world, like the two of us, shouldn’t be part of it. They think the merging of worlds is a curse and that outsiders don’t belong here.”

“That’s… comforting,” I mutter, though the sarcasm in my voice does little to mask my unease. “And yet Calythra wants to take us to them?” Confusion prickles through me, tightening my chest. “Even the name Riftborn implies they’re fighting for people like us—those who came through the merges, no matter the species, so why would any of them be against humans or anyone else not born here? Doesn’t that go against everything they’re supposed to stand for?”

Solan’s expression darkens, his golden eyes glinting with the weight of unspoken knowledge. “You’d think so,” he says, voice low and measured. “But the rebellion isn’t a single mind moving in perfect harmony. It’s a fractured body with too many voices. Some fight for the freedom of everyone not born here—humans, Pyronox, and any other species pulled into this world. Others… they see certain groups as a threat. A danger to their fragile cause.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I snap, frustration bubbling over. “We’re all in the same boat. All thrown here without a choice.”

“It is,” he agrees softly, brushing his fingers over mine to calm me. “But fear makes people do ridiculous things. When survival is on the line, some believe unity is strength. Others….” He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “They think isolation and exclusion will protect what they’ve managed to build.”

I shake my head, the explanation doing little to settle my confusion—or my anger. “And we’re supposed to trust them?”

“We’re supposed to survive,” Solan answers, his voice firm but tinged with something vulnerable. “That’s the choice we’re left with.”

“Do you trust Calythra?” I ask close to his ear, and the weight of the question hangs between us.

Solan hesitates, searching the stars for a long moment. “I don’t know. But I trust that he wants us to survive. For now, that’s enough.”

I let out a slow breath, toying with the fabric of his shirt. “What about you?” I ask softly. “Do you think we can survive this?”

His eyes snap back to mine, and the intensity in his gaze makes my heart skip a beat. “With you? I’ll survive anything.”

It’s a bold statement, one that makes my throat tighten, but I don’t argue. Instead, I press a kiss to his chest, right above where his heart beats steadily beneath my palm. “Then I guess we better rest and make it our mission to find them tomorrow.”

He smirks faintly, brushing his hand over my hair. “You’re already thinking ahead. I knew I chose well.”

I roll my eyes, but the teasing glint in his gaze is infectious. “You didn’t choose me,” I say with a small laugh. “Fate did.”

Solan’s expression softens, and his fingers trail down my arm. “Maybe. But if I could choose a thousand times over, I’d still choose you.”

The tenderness in his voice is too much, and I yawn suddenly, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to me. He chuckles, shifting to pull me closer as my eyes flutter shut.

“Sleep,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my temple. “I’ll keep watch with Calythra.”

And as I drift off in his arms, I believe him. With Solan by my side, there’s nothing I can’t face—even a rebellion.

By the time the sun comes up, we’re all awake and finalising packing up our small camp. I slept surprisingly well, but I suspect being pressed up against Solan is the reason. Even my blue balls didn’t keep me awake.

Jamie’s all but bouncing around the camp this morning, getting distracted when he should be packing up. The whole time, he’s been “Caly’s” shadow, because that’s what Jamie’s now calling the warrior in training. Sure, I’m a little concerned by the hero worship that’s going on—still not completely certain what to make of Calythra’s help—but honestly, I’ll take Jamie’s fixation on Calythra rather than him having a meltdown.

At some point, it’s going to happen. All I can do is make sure I’m ready to catch him when all of this stops being an adventure and the reality of Jamie’s situation—along with being without his parents and facing the very real likelihood of never seeing them again—hits home.

Selfishly, I just hope it happens once we’re safe.

Solan picking up a pack of supplies draws my attention. “I’ll scout ahead,” he says. “Never more than a call away,” he tacks on.

I don’t like it, at all, but we discussed this yesterday.

The further into this unknown territory we venture, the more on edge we become. While Calythra offered to venture ahead, Solan insisted he be the one to take on that role. And I get it—albeit reluctantly. Calythra is young and inexperienced. Solan, however, can track. He even gave a big spiel comparing himself to Arnie playing Dutch in Predator and being a formidable hunter.

I only smirked a little when he did so, but the thing is, I don’t doubt his skills. Neither does Calythra, who told me in no uncertain terms, “Solan’s reputation is the kind of thing that gets whispered about in taverns and on training grounds. You know, like: ‘Don’t wander too far from the campfire, or Solan might track you just to prove he can.’ ”

Jamie, overhearing, had burst into laughter. “What, like some kind of scary bedtime story?”

Calythra had shrugged with mock seriousness. “Not a story, Jamie. A cautionary tale. Do you know how many people swear he once tracked a fleeing thief through a sandstorm? A sandstorm. Apparently, the guy thought he’d lost Solan, only to wake up with him standing over the campfire like, ‘Nice try.’ ”

I’d chuckled at that, though inwardly I had no trouble believing it. Solan’s sharp eyes, his ability to read the smallest disturbances in the ground, even his predatory stillness when studying his surroundings—it was like he was born for it. He didn’t just notice things; he owned them. The ground under his feet? His map. The air around him? His compass.

Jamie, however, hadn’t been done. “So basically, Solan’s the kind of guy who could lose you just by standing still?”

“Exactly.” Calythra grinned, gesturing grandly, all while Solan had rolled his eyes as he prepared our meal last night. “And when he moves? Forget it. One moment, he’s there. Blink, and he’s already got your trail memorised, your weaknesses catalogued, and your supply stash raided. He probably knows what you’re going to do before you decide to do it.”

“Well, that’s not terrifying,” I’d muttered dryly. But even as the banter circled around Solan’s almost-mythical skills, I couldn’t help the small swell of pride that warmed my chest. If anyone could keep us alive in this strange and dangerous world, it was him.

Bringing me back into the present, Solan adjusts the strap of his pack and leans down to press a kiss to my lips. It’s firm, lingering just enough to make my pulse flutter before he pulls away, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “I’ll be back before you miss me.”

I smirk despite the twinge of unease in my chest. “Too late for that.”

His hand brushes my cheek, softness passing over his features. I watch as he disappears into the trees, his movements so fluid and silent, it’s like he was never there to begin with. I glance at Calythra, who’s watching Solan’s retreat with a crooked grin.

“Damn,” he mutters, his voice full of admiration. “I’ve heard all the stories about Solan’s skills, but seeing him move? That’s some next-level badassery.”

Jamie perks up, his curiosity piqued. “What kind of stories?”

Apparently, last night’s tales weren’t enough for him.

Calythra swings up onto Ridge’s back with a dramatic shrug. “Oh, you know, the usual hero stuff. Tracking beasts across impossible terrain, taking down predators twice his size, stealing hearts without even trying.”

I snort, rolling my eyes as I guide Geralt forwards. “The last one’s news to me.”

Jamie laughs, his grin wide as he mimics Solan’s quiet footsteps, pretending to scout ahead himself. “If he’s that good, maybe we should just follow him instead of worrying so much.”

“That’s the plan,” I say, though my voice is quieter now. We’re not sure how close the rebels are, and even though Solan’s promised to keep us safe, my instincts tell me to stay on high alert. I look around quickly. Shit, where’s he gone? “Barely two minutes, and I can’t even see him anymore.”

“Don’t worry,” Calythra says with a teasing lilt, reaching out his hand for Jamie, who eagerly takes it and swings up onto the saddle. “He’s not lost. And if he is, I’m sure he’ll just charm the trees into telling him where we are.”

Jamie snickers, but I give Calythra a dry look. “You’re surprisingly chatty for someone who’s supposed to be stealthy.”

He smirks, though his expression softens a moment later. “I guess I’m just happy to have company again. Before this, it was just me and my mentor, and that got… quiet. Too quiet.” He glances at Jamie, his tone shifting to something wistful. “You know, I almost got adopted once, when I first arrived in this world. By a Glowranth elder. He wanted to train me as a healer, thought I had potential. But the queen decided it wasn’t… appropriate.”

“Why?” Jamie asks, his brows furrowing.

Calythra’s grin turns bitter. “Because I’m not a Glowranth. Apparently, being not of this world makes me ‘unsuitable.’” He shrugs it off, but the weight of the memory clearly lingers. “Anyway, here I am, tracking with you instead. Life’s funny like that.”

Before I can respond, Calythra stiffens, his head tilting as his ears twitch. “Wait,” he murmurs, holding up a hand.

I don’t hear anything, but I trust him enough to tighten my grip on the reins, stopping Geralt. “What is it?” I whisper, reaching for my rifle.

He doesn’t answer immediately, scanning the trees ahead. Then, with barely a moment’s warning, the forest erupts into chaos.

They come from all sides—five figures emerging from the dense underbrush, their movements swift and deliberate. Two of them I recognise as Glowranth, their tall, sinewy humanoid forms shimmering faintly with the eerie bioluminescent ridges that mark their kind. Their glowing skin and smooth, monstrous features stand in stark contrast to the snarling aggression in their expressions. Despite their humanoid shape, the predatory grace of their movements reminds me that intelligent doesn’t mean harmlessness.

The other three are something else entirely—alien in a way that defies classification. Their forms are a haphazard blend of limbs and features that seem ripped from different nightmares. One creature stalks forwards on mismatched legs, its jagged carapace reflecting the faint light. Another’s elongated arms end in hooked claws that drag through the dirt as it lumbers forwards, its twisted face fixed in a grimace that might once have resembled a smile. The last moves with serpentine fluidity, its body coiling unnervingly as its many eyes glint with malicious intent.

These aren’t wild animals acting on instinct; they’re intelligent beings—monsters, yes, but with a purpose. There’s no mistaking it. Their coordinated movements and the silent, deliberate way they spread out around us scream of a well-executed ambush.

“Hold on!” Calythra shouts, already sliding off Ridge and drawing his blade.

Jamie screams as Ridge rears, and I barely manage to keep Geralt steady as the monsters close in.

I fight back, swinging wildly with the knife Solan insisted I carry, too afraid to use my rifle in such close proximity, but it’s not enough. One of the creatures knocks me off my horse with a swipe of its clawed paw, and I hit the ground hard, the air rushing from my lungs.

“Jamie!” I gasp, my vision spinning as I scramble to my feet. I see Calythra holding his own against two of the monsters, his movements quick and precise, but Jamie is cornered, his small frame dwarfed by the beasts.

Panic surges through me. I manage to break free from one of the monsters by swinging my fist at its face with all my strength. It recoils, but before I can shout for Solan, a sharp blow to my side sends me sprawling.

I don’t even get the chance to scream.

Then, just as suddenly as the attack began, a commanding voice cuts through the chaos.

“Enough!”

The monsters freeze, their snarls silencing as a figure steps into the clearing. She’s human—or at least, she looks human—her dark brown skin glowing faintly in the filtered sunlight. She’s tall and muscular, her braided hair pulled back, and she wears a hooded cloak that she lowers as she approaches. Her accent, unmistakably American and Southern, catches me off-guard.

“You’re safe,” she says, her voice firm but not unkind. “For now.”

I glare at her, blood trickling down my cheek. “Safe? Are you kidding me?”

She doesn’t flinch at my anger, her gaze steady. “We didn’t know who you were. You’re lucky we stopped when we did.”

Jamie looks at her with wide eyes, his fear giving way to awe. “Who are you?”

“Shanae,” she says simply, scanning each of us in turn. Her gaze lingers on Calythra, then on me. “Now, who the hell are you, and what are you doing here?”

Before I can answer, a distant roar echoes through the trees. My heart leaps into my throat. It’s Solan.

He’s coming.

And if he sees the blood on my face, I know he won’t stop to ask questions. He’ll tear through these monsters, this woman, like a storm, and nothing—not reason, not logic—will hold him back.

“Call him off,” Shanae says sharply, her composure faltering for the first time. “Whatever you think we’ve done, we’re not your enemies.”

Calythra’s voice is tight. “You have no idea who’s coming, do you? That’s Solan.”

At the name, Shanae blanches. “Solan?” Her voice wavers, and the others around her exchange uneasy glances.

“Yes,” Calythra says, his tone almost smug. “And that’s his bonded.” He gestures to me. “So, yeah. You’ve really stepped in it.”

The tension in the clearing thickens, the weight of Solan’s reputation settling over us like a storm cloud. I can’t help the flicker of pride that rises in my chest—ridiculous, stupidly sexy pride. But now is definitely not the time to admit that.

“Stand down,” Shanae orders her group, her voice sharp as a blade. “All of you. Now.”

The roar grows louder, and I step forwards, ignoring the pain in my side. I have to stop this before it’s too late. Before Solan reaches us.

“You need to all back the fuck off and let me handle him,” I say, my voice steady despite the chaos swirling around me. I have little doubt this mismatched band of monsters is part of the rebellion. I can’t afford for them to be slaughtered, and I absolutely don’t want Jamie to be caught in the thick of it either.

The air grows heavy, charged with an almost-electric anticipation. A faint rustle through the trees warns me moments before Solan breaches the clearing.

He’s magnificent.

It’s not just the feral intensity in his eyes or the powerful way he strides into the open—it’s also the flames. Flickering tendrils of fire snake over his skin, glowing orange and gold against the rich red of his…. Fuck me. Are those scales? His movements are fluid and controlled, but it’s the fire—raw, living energy—that draws every ounce of my attention. His eyes lock on me, searing and unyielding.

But I know. Oh, how I know. He doesn’t see the rebels shrinking back or Jamie’s wide, terrified gaze. All he sees is the blood trickling down my cheek, a stark red contrast against my pale skin.

“Solan!” I shout, desperate to pierce through the haze of rage I feel radiating from him. His steps don’t falter. He’s not charging, not yet, but the deliberate, measured way he moves is infinitely more terrifying.

The rebels must think so too. Their leader—Shanae—shouts something in a language I don’t recognise, and the group scrambles back, positioning themselves behind me like I’m their new shield. Most of them do, anyway. One of the rebel monsters hesitates, its form too slow or too stubborn to retreat as fast as the others.

Solan’s hand rises, and with it, the fire around him swirls, coalescing into a burning orb.

“No!” I holler, my voice raw and cracking as I lunge forwards, arms outstretched. “Solan, stop!”

The fireball shoots from his hand, streaking across the clearing with terrifying precision. My heart seizes in my chest as I anticipate the strike—already imagining the blood, the destruction, the smell of charred flesh.

Instinct takes over before I can think it through. I hurl myself forwards, my body colliding with the startled rebel just as Solan’s fireball roars through the clearing. The force of it knocks the air from my lungs, but not before Jamie’s scream pierces my chest like a dagger.

I feel the fire hit me square in the chest, and for a split second, I think it’s over.

This is it.

I picture Jamie’s tear-streaked face. Solan’s eyes, full of love and desperation. My heart shatters into a thousand pieces, the thought of leaving them behind unbearable. But then…

I gasp. My lungs burn, but not from the fire.

Holy shit, I’m alive.

Flames lick across my skin, but they don’t consume me. They dance—bright and mesmerising, curling over my arms and chest like living things, almost playful in their movements. Panic claws at me as I swat them, but they refuse to extinguish.

“What the—” My voice catches, my brain unable to process what’s happening.

“Uncle Jack!” Jamie’s scream cuts through the chaos, his small frame hurtling towards me.

“No!” Solan is there in an instant, intercepting Jamie mid-run and pulling him back before he can get too close. “Stay back!” His voice is sharp, desperate.

“But he’s—” Jamie’s words come in frantic gasps as he tries to break free.

“Listen to me,” Solan growls, his tone brooking no argument. “He’s not hurt, but the flames will burn you. Stay with Calythra.”

Jamie hesitates, tears streaming down his cheeks, before Solan shoves him gently but firmly towards Calythra. The young Veilvox steps in without question, his expression unusually serious as he wraps an arm around Jamie, holding him in place despite my nephew’s protests.

And then Solan is on me.

His hands are firm but careful as he guides me, his voice a steady anchor amidst my rising panic. “Focus on me,” he says, his golden eyes locking onto mine. “You’re not hurt. The flames—just breathe.”

“I don’t know how to stop it!” I rasp, my voice shaking. “What’s happening to me?”

“I’ll explain,” he promises, brushing his hands over my arms, coaxing the fire into submission. “Just focus. Calm your breathing. Feel it.”

I do as he says, though my heart is hammering against my ribs. Slowly, impossibly, the flames begin to dim, their wild flickers settling into a soft glow before fading entirely. My skin is unmarked, though it feels warm, tingling with energy that wasn’t there before.

“What the hell just happened?” I whisper, staring down at my hands as if they belong to someone else. “I should be dead. That fire?—”

“You’re not,” Solan says firmly, scanning me for injuries even though there’s no sign of a burn. Relief wars with something darker in his expression—something that sends a chill down my spine. “My fire will never hurt you.”

His eyes flick to the blood on my face, and his jaw tightens.

“Solan,” I start, but he’s already turning, his entire body tensing like a predator scenting its prey.

The rebels.

They’re clustered together a few feet away, wide-eyed and wary, but Solan’s murderous gaze zeros in on them like a nocked arrow.

“You,” he growls, his voice low and lethal. Flames ripple across his arms, and for a moment, he looks every bit the monstrous warrior of stories that are whispered about him—unstoppable, terrifying, and breathtakingly beautiful. From the rebels’ reactions, it’s clear Calythra wasn’t exaggerating.

The American who’d introduced herself as Shanae edges forwards, her hands raised in a placating gesture. “Wait—please. We didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“You hurt him,” Solan snaps, his voice like thunder. “I should burn you all where you stand.”

“Solan, stop!” I step forwards, catching his arm. He flinches at the contact, his eyes darting to me as if to ensure I’m still there. “I’m fine. They didn’t know.”

His gaze softens when it meets mine, but the tension in his body doesn’t ease. “They drew blood.”

“And we need their help,” I remind him, my voice firm despite the trembling in my hands. “If you kill them, we lose any chance of finding safety.”

Shanae takes a cautious step. “You’re right. You do,” she says, addressing me directly. Her voice is steady, but I catch the way her eyes flicker nervously to Solan’s blazing arms. “We didn’t know who you were. That’s why we acted the way we did. We’re trying to survive, same as you.”

“Survive?” Solan’s voice drips with scorn. “By attacking innocents?”

Shanae holds his gaze, her expression hardening. “You’re not innocent. None of us are. But I’d rather fight alongside you than against you. If you’ll let me.”

The tension in the air is suffocating. Solan’s flames flare brighter, but I squeeze his arm right over the flames, grounding him, though I’m still not quite sure how I’m able to do so. Hell, if I’d had this ability when I was a firefighter, my job would have been a whole lot safer and easier. “We need them,” I say softly, pleading with my eyes.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move. Then, slowly, the fire ebbs, retreating beneath his skin.

“Fine,” he says, his voice low and dangerous. “But if any of you so much as breathe wrong, I won’t hold back next time.”

Shanae nods, relief flickering across her face. “Fair enough.”

Jamie breaks free from Calythra’s hold and rushes to my side to throw his arms around my waist. “Don’t do that again,” he mumbles into my shirt, his voice thick with tears.

“I won’t,” I promise, ruffling his hair. But as I glance at Solan, his golden eyes still burning with barely restrained fury, I can’t help but wonder if I’ll have a choice.