Page 27 of The Sol Crown (Fractured Lights #1)

A bout two hours into our trek, the air changes. A cold prickle slides down my spine, the heavy weight of unseen eyes pressing against the nape of my neck.

I turn my head slightly, catching Sam’s eye, and he gives the barest nod.

We are not alone.

“Deacon, stop,” I breathe out, barely louder than the wind.

Deacon and Trent freeze mid-step. Their faces whip toward me, brows furrowed, bodies instinctively dropping low.

Around us, the others still, the forest too silent, even the birds seem to be holding their breath.

Then, the undergrowth to the right explodes.

A monstrous peligro—black-furred, mottled with orange spots, its jaws dripping with thick, glistening saliva—hurtles straight at Brynn. He barely has time to scream before it slams into him, knocking him flat. The force rattles the earth beneath our feet.

Brynn scrambles desperately, his fingers clawing at the beast’s coarse fur, trying to keep the snapping jaws away from his throat. His boots kick up mud as he fights for his life, but the creature is relentless, its muscles coiling and striking with horrifying precision.

Sam and Stone charge, daggers flashing silver in the misty light. They stab and slash, the blades cutting shallow lines across the peligro’s thick hide.

It only enrages it.

The creature bucks, snapping its head around, its venom-coated fangs slashing through the air. Brynn screams again—high, ragged—as the beast’s teeth rake across his cheek, and for a second, I swear I smell smoke.

His blood spurts, bubbling and hissing as the venom hits the air, and his skin blisters instantly, a sickening green hue creeping from the wound.

“Son of a…” Stone curses, throwing himself forward again, only to be batted aside by a gigantic paw like a rag doll.

I move quickly, pulling the stiletto dagger from my belt, the cool metal biting into my palm, the familiar engraved initials rough under my thumb as I rub them once.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus.

The creature rears up. I throw.

The dagger whistles through the air and sinks deep into its left eye with a sickening crunch. The peligro stiffens, spasms violently, and collapses onto Brynn with a final, gurgling growl.

Brynn wails, thrashing beneath the dead weight.

Sam, Stone, and Trent rush to heave the carcass off him, muscles straining, the creature’s blood slicking their hands. Junie drops to Brynn’s side, frantically running her hands over his trembling body, searching for more wounds.

“Why won’t he stop screaming?” she gasps, her voice cracking.

“It’s the venom,” I bite out, striding over. “Deacon—hurry!”

Already at the supply bag, Deacon’s fingers tear through the herbs and vials, finding the half-empty pouch of curar Trent got in the rucksacks, his breath coming fast and shallow. He grinds and mashes feverishly, hands fumbling.

“Faster!” I bark again as Brynn’s veins darken, a vivid green webbing out from the wound, crawling down his neck.

We are running out of time.

“Here!” Deacon yells, thrusting a small glass vial into my hand. The liquid inside is thick, tinged a strange muddy blue.

I drop to Brynn’s side.

“Junie, hold him still!”

She grabs his head with both hands, but it isn’t enough; Brynn bucks like a wild animal. Without hesitation, she pins his skull between her thighs, clamping down hard, sobbing with the effort.

I force the curar between his clenched teeth. Some spills down his chin, but enough gets inside.

Please, Gods, let it be enough.

We wait.

The forest presses in around us, silent but for the jagged sound of Brynn’s cries.

His body jerks violently once. Twice. Then slackens.

His chest rises and falls, slow, steady, and the green recedes from his veins like a tide pulling back.

I exhale a shaking breath I hadn’t realised I was holding.

Deacon slumps beside me, hands on his knees, head bowed.

Brynn lives.

His chest rises and falls in shallow gasps, the faint sound of it dragging us all back from the brink. Relief surges through my blood, a fragile thing splintered by adrenaline.

It lasts all of three seconds before Colton ruins it.

“Great.” His voice cuts through the silence like a blade. He pushes off the tree he’s been leaning against, while we all fought for Brynn’s life, and saunters a few steps closer. His arms crossed, his mouth twisted into a sneer.

“How long do we have to wait around for this big moron to wake up?” he says, using his boot-covered toes to nudge Brynn’s unconscious body like he’s a sack of grain.

The world tilts.

Before I even realise what I’m doing, I slam my hands into Colton’s chest, shoving him backwards. Hard. He stumbles two steps, his boots skidding in the dirt, eyes wide with shock.

“Have some fucking humility,” I hiss, my voice low and shaking with barely contained rage. “A man nearly died while you just stood and watched, and that’s the first thing you have to say?”

Colton recovers fast. Too fast.

The shock disappears from his face, replaced with a look of disdain, twisting his ruddy skin.

“Yeah?” he spits, stepping back into my space. His breath is hot and sour on my face. “And whose watch did he almost die on, oh great leader ?”

“Wait a…” Deacon shouts, stepping towards me, but I raise my hand for him to stop.

Although Colton’s words hit like fists, I don’t need protection against them.

My hands drop and curl at my sides, nails biting into my palms.

“Junie almost died. Brynn nearly got torn in half. Elijah fell to his death.” Colton’s voice rises with each word, sharp and venomous.

He takes another step forward, looming over me, forcing me to crane my neck to meet his glare.

“How many more, Elina? How many more before you admit you don’t know what the fuck you’re doing? ”

I open my mouth, but he barrels on.

“Maybe next it’ll be Deacon,” he snarls. “Or your lover boy, Stone.”

I flinch, the words hitting something raw and exposed inside me.

Colton sees it, and he revels in it.

“You think we didn’t notice?” he spits. “You think we didn’t see you curled up with him last night?”

Before the next hateful word can leave his mouth, Stone moves .

One second, I’m standing alone. Next, Stone is in front of me, pushing me gently but firmly behind his body. He stands between us like a wall of iron.

“You think you can do better?” Stone says, voice low and deadly calm. No shouting. No threats. Just steel. “Then fucking lead, Colton.”

Colton’s sneer deepens. He reaches around Stone’s huge form and snatches the map from my hand like he’s tearing victory from my fingers, then turns his back on us, pretending to study it.

The team shifts uneasily, glancing between me and Stone, but I keep my face carefully blank. I cross my arms and lean my weight over one hip like I couldn’t care less.

“Go ahead,” I say coolly. “Show us how it’s done.”

But inside?

Inside, I’m splintering.

Every word Colton spat burrows under my skin, threading doubt through every crack already forming inside me.

That splinter I called him before? Well, he’s well and truly buried now, and it’s starting to feel less like a minor irritation and more like a shard of agony lodged deep.

Maybe I’m not the leader everyone thinks I can be.

Brynn wakes about an hour later, the antidote having cleared his system completely. There are no lingering effects, no fever or pain, but the two claw marks slashed across his cheek will scar. The marks are too deep, too angry. They’ll be a part of him now, a permanent reminder of today.

After that, Colton leads us toward the camp. I’m equal parts pleased and annoyed that the journey is uneventful because the tension coils inside me like a spring with nowhere to release.

By the time we reach the clearing marked on the map, dusk is bleeding into the sky, turning the world a muted, eerie grey .

The camp is little more than a rough circle of crumbling stone walls and an old, blackened fire pit. A pile of filthy blankets rots in one corner, and two fraying hammocks sway weakly in the breeze.

No signs of life. No signs of death.

Just the heavy, oppressive silence of abandonment.

Colton calls out orders like he’s been doing it his whole life, sending Trent and Sam to gather firewood and barking at Deacon to check the perimeter.

No one argues.

I kneel beside Brynn as Junie settles him against a mossy patch of wall. He insists he’s fine, flashing a shaky smile, but I see the haunted look buried behind his eyes—the look that comes when you brush too close to death.

Junie tucks a rough blanket around him, smoothing his sweaty red hair back with a tenderness that surprises me. Brynn’s eyes flutter shut, and within seconds, he’s asleep, breathing deep and even.

“He needs rest,” Junie says softly, still not looking up.

I don’t answer. I don’t trust my voice.

Before I can move, a hand closes around my wrist—steady, firm.

Stone.

I look up, and he tips his head toward the darker edge of the clearing, where the ruined wall dips low and the trees lean in close.

Without a word, I follow him.

We step out of sight, the air is cooler and thick with the damp scent of moss and leaves. The sounds of the others fade behind us.

He turns to face me, the dying light shadowing his expression.

“You alright?” he asks, voice low and rough.

I swallow hard and nod once.

“Don’t lie to me, Elina,” he says, softer now.

Something in me cracks at the way he says my name.

I press my back against the rough stone, willing myself to stay upright.

“I’m fine,” I rasp. “I just… I didn’t need you to stand up for me back there.”

He steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him, the steady, quiet force of his presence.

“I didn’t step in because you needed it,” he says. “I did it because I wanted to.”

His eyes burn into mine, fierce and unwavering, pinning me in place with their intensity.

“You saved Brynn’s life,” he adds, softer now but no less sure.

“Colton—” I start.