Below deck, in the dark, Luella felt like she could breathe again. Facing Az, her head fell on his chest as he wrapped her in his arms.
"I’m scared," she uttered.
"I will always keep you safe, Lu. I love you." Az’s voice rumbled through her, and her wings shivered in response.
"Love you," she mumbled against his chest.
He bent down to catch her chin, lifting her face to his as he pressed his warm lips to hers. Soft and innocent—a reminder of what she should hold on to in the face of chaos.
Though, Luella could not help but feel like something was coming. Something grave.
Water lapped against the shallow sides of the rowboat as the oars cut through the water, rocking and swaying with every tiny movement.
Luella was still as a statue, her cloak bundled around her, hands tangling in the clasp around her neck, as she pulled it closer to her face. She found comfort in it, as the hood over her head blocked out her line of sight. Her wings were kept hidden with the cloak. It was stifling, but Vale had demanded it.
The dark evening played tricks with her eyes, and she swore she saw shadows running alongside them atop the water. Like reaching hands.
They had to take two boats. Az, Graves, and Luella in one—Vale, Tharen, and Bastian in the other.
Az sat in the front, shoulders flexing as he rowed, with Graves silent behind her. He had donned his hood and cowl, shrouding himself in shadows once more.
She closed her eyes, unable to look at the water stretching on either side of them. Every bob of the boat made her quake.
As they slipped quietly over the water, the rocky expanse of the Isles loomed.
This close, she could see the rugged beauty of it.
Pointed, grey mountains dappled the skyline, lush greenery dotted further behind. The mountains wrapped wholly around the islands, nestled further within.
A large archway of rocks dripping with sharp stones greeted them like jagged, monstrous teeth.
"W-we’re going under that?" she asked, voice wobbling in the quiet night.
From the boat beside them, sitting rigidly, Vale said, "We must. It is the only entrance."
"Let’s just hope they don’t enjoy roasting unwelcome visitors over a fire," Tharen grumbled, arms moving as he rowed.
Fear made her lock up. Did the Fallen… dothat?
Her head tipped back as the archway loomed, towering above them all. Graves pressed his hand to her head, forcing it back down.
The water echoed against the high stone as they quietly paddled underneath. Waves splashed. Seagulls swooped low, cawing a foreboding tune. She gasped as one dove right for them, wings catching as the seagull rose higher in the sky at the last moment.
Her eyes darted nervously to the thick shadows beyond the arch, where stone spikes jutted out from the face of the rock unnaturally. Shereallydid not feel good about this.
She wasn’t the only one on edge. Az’s head kept roving before her, knuckles white as he gripped the oars. Though she couldn’t see him behind her, a soft zing whispered through the air, and she pictured Graves twirling a dagger. In the other boat, smoke curled from Vale’s mouth; Bastian’s eyes flashed deep scarlet, while the two blades strapped to Tharen’s back peeked from beneath his cloak—a menacing promise.
The water curved deeper into the mountains, stretching to where she could not see.
Rustling echoed off the high stone, sharp and sudden, pricking her nerves. Her hands clenched her cloak tighter.
Wings.
The thought barely formed before a sudden flurry erupted—low calls pierced the stillness, dark feathers flickering like shadows, and the zing of blades slicing the air.
They were surrounded.
Six Fallen hovered in midair. Black wings stretched wide, feet barely skimming the water. Spears pointed, deadly, and unyielding. And held right toward them.
