Page 135 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)

WE’LL STAY

Kase

THE BATTLE RAGED IN KASE’S chest, his mind, his body, his very soul. All of him burned—from his skin to his soul, it was all ablaze.

It hurt so blasted much. He needed to give in, to make it all go away. He would no longer feel his pain and his sorrow and the agonizing darkness.

It would be a relief, a washing away, a new start.

Maybe it would kill him, whatever was happening to him. Maybe he could just let go and live in that beautiful meadow forever, the one filled with daisies, blue mountains in the background.

But Hallie wouldn’t be there with him.

Her face swam before his eyes, crying and pleading with him.

She glowed like the lights of a thousand stars.

The last few months had been riddled with missteps and sorrow and mistakes, but she’d stood with him through it all.

She was his truth, his forever, his very heart.

He couldn’t give up. Not when she still believed in him. Not when she still needed him.

The pain spiked as if he’d been the one decapitated with the sword. His head was going to explode.

Just give in. Give into the rage. Give into the agony. Embrace the void.

He teetered on the cliff, his fingers clinging to the edge. They ached. He gripped harder.

He’d fought for so long. He’d done his best—his best just wasn’t good enough.

It had never been.

It never would be.

Sorrow and anguish had defined nearly every step of his existence. He’d never been given a chance in this life. Why should he even try to resist whatever this was? Jagamot? It couldn’t be worse than the life he’d been handed. What did he have to fight for?

But if he gave in, he lost Hallie.

No.

Kase would not give in. Would not let go, not of her.

If he hadn’t screamed for Skibs as Eravin shot power at Hallie, they would be dead. If Kase hadn’t killed Eravin, he would’ve destroyed the world. If he hadn’t been part of the induction ritual, he never would’ve saved Laurence Hixon’s life.

Three things he had saved, not ruined.

The pain lessened.

If Zeke hadn’t died, Kase never would have learned how to move on, that it was okay to do so. If Ana hadn’t died, he would’ve never learned compassion. If Kase hadn’t grown up in the Shackley family, he never would have learned strength.

Three things that could have broken him. Three ways they’d made him stronger instead.

The dark swirling power clouding his eyes lightened.

If he’d never been born, he would’ve never met Hallie.

Kase was more than a collection of screw-ups. He was more than his grief.

NO.

He would no longer allow it to dictate anything and everything he did. Kase Shackley would live, and he would live free.

The presence within him screamed, and the scorching pain of it nearly split his skull.

“I. Will. Not. Give. In.”

The fire in his veins pressed harder.

“I… refuse …to bow…to you!”

And just like that, as if it had never been there at all…the pain evaporated.

He opened his eyes to a world clearer than any he’d seen in some time.

His vision was no longer clouded with shadows and pain and an endless abyss.

Ash drifted down; dying flames roared around him, above him.

He looked down at his hands. Deep scratches crisscrossed his skin.

Fresh blood—black and deep crimson—ran down his fingers.

Had he done that? Or was it Eravin’s blood?

The ground beside him was coated in blood like black tar.

The scratches on his hands were deep, jagged. The torn flesh stung.

His eyes travelled from his hands to the body lying in a pool of black blood, the flames surrounding them reflected in its depths.

Her hair was like the deepest fire, the braid coming loose and soaking in the gore.

A necklace of purple fingerprints hung around her throat.

The hand bearing Ana’s ring draped limply across her stomach.

Her eyes were closed, light brown lashes dusting her freckled cheeks.

Her pale lips parted slightly as if frozen in a soft sigh.

“Hallie?” The voice was so small, he almost didn’t recognize it as his.

Nothing. She didn’t move.

A fierce wave of nausea rocked him.

“Hal—Hallie? Hallie ?”

The tingles began in his fingers and surged throughout his entire body.

Pins and needles, hot and cold. The pins became knives.

He couldn’t work his throat or his voice or even his fingers right.

Hands shaking, desperation stealing the breath from his lungs, he dragged himself to her side and scooped her up, clutching her limp body to his chest.

“Hal—” Her name broke on his lips. “Please no. Please, stars, no.”

She wasn’t breathing. He couldn’t feel her breathing.

He cupped her cooling cheek. Panic whined in his head like an overheating hover, white-hot and wailing until he couldn’t hear his own thoughts.

“Wake up,” he begged. Like he’d begged her after Skibs had fallen from the sky, but she’d been breathing then, she’d been warm then, and this… “Come on, Hals, wake up.”

Her head only lolled to the side onto his arm. Too cold. If he’d had the blanket from his hover, he could’ve made her warm again. He didn’t have it. He didn’t have anything.

He couldn’t fix this.

He hugged her to his chest and wept tears so hot, so heavy, he was going to drown in them. He pressed his forehead to hers.

“Sorry,” he rambled, rocking back and forth. Half trying to rouse her, half afraid to break her in more ways than he already had. “I’m sorry, I’m…please?” She hated when he was rude, always had, couldn’t stand it when he acted like an entitled helviter … “Sorry, please, Hallie. Please wake up.”

Please, not her. Take me. Take my very soul—some of it, half of it, all of it. I don’t blasting care.

He pressed her hand to his lips, kissing the ring he’d given her—the metal warm, as if stolen from her, his tears spilling over her too-cold fingers, and his blood dripping onto the band.

Her blood from some unknown cut on her hand mixed with his.

If his uncle could give his soul to cold, dead metal, why couldn’t Kase give his to Hallie?

He didn’t care what it did to him. He’d go to the gallows for her. He’d do anything.

Please.

The fire wall surrounding them shattered into a million tiny dust particles.

“Kase!” someone yelled, trying to tug him away from her, but he resisted. He would not let her go. He would never let her go. “Kase! Let Navara help!”

Someone wrenched his arms away from Hallie, but she didn’t fall; she slumped against another arm, one that guided her out of his lap.

He fought with all his might, screaming or sobbing her name, he couldn’t tell which—but he was too weak.

He couldn’t see clearly through the tears.

Her weight was gone. It was too cold without her in his arms. They couldn’t take her. He had to keep her warm.

“You didn’t mean to. It was Jagamot. You didn’t mean to,” chanted Skibs in his ear. He, too, couldn’t control his emotions. Tears choked his own words as he held Kase back.

The golden light flashing in front of his eyes helped clear them enough so he could see the woman before him.

Her mostly dark hair had come free, flowing down her back.

She was bloody all over, and her arm was missing below the elbow, but she’d survived.

Navara threw dust over Hallie, singing an almost familiar song.

She was trying to save Hallie the way Kase could not. Trying to undo what Kase had done.

He’d done it. He’d killed her.

Those were his fingerprints on her neck.

He’d been fighting the invisible darkness. He’d won, but the cost had been too high.

Not her. Please.

He didn’t know to whom he pleaded, to Jagamot or the Gate, to Clara’s god or some other one, or to his own mind. He just needed her to be okay.

Skibs released him. He crawled over and took Hallie’s hands, rubbing them, kissing them to warm them up. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Navara leaned over and kissed Hallie’s brow.

She pulled back. “She’s alive, but not for much longer.

” She took a shuddering breath. “The damage…the damage from…I healed her windpipe. I cannot be sure of…her mind.” Navara whispered another spell over Hallie.

Kase could only stare at his hands, suddenly sickened by the sight of them strangling her fingers.

But he couldn’t bring himself to let go, either.

“But if you healed her, why—"

“There is also a rift in the veil that holds her soul,” Navara interrupted gently. “It is too deep for me to heal, even with the renewal of the Chronal Gate.”

Kase barely heard the words. He pulled Hallie back into his lap, holding her tightly. Her head lay on his shoulder, and tears slid down his face and into the collar of his blood-spattered shirt. She was warmer, a little. But she didn’t wake.

He’d done that.

He’d promised to protect her, to take care of her.

He’d killed her.

How could he look Stowe in the eye ever again—how could he bring her back to her mother and brother like this?

Before him, golden and blue light sparkled around a glittering archway. Both colors danced on Hallie’s blood-stained blouse. Her blood. His blood. Black blood.

“It needs a guardian,” Skibs said from above him. “I can do it, but I’ll need you to make sure…”

“No. I will become the guardian,” Navara said, reaching into her pocket and taking out a folded, slightly crumpled piece of parchment. “I’ve always known my destiny was not my own. I have run long enough. It is time I embrace it.”

The air still burned with the scent of ashamox, and with each second, the dark entity closing in on the shimmering, blazing archway before them continued to expand.

“Give this to Jack Walker, please.” Navara set the parchment in Skibs’ hand. “We must finish this before Jagamot manifests once more.”

Kase could barely focus on anything, the ice dripping through his blood making him want to shiver. But he could only hold Hallie tighter. Pray harder.

Please. Please.