And Vesperin was not helpless. Her awakened Stella answered her terror, surging forward in a sparkling blue light, sweeping out in an arc, as it cut down five Rogues at once. She wavered, gasping for breath, as Rhyden held her up, one eye on Lucien—who was crafting a ladder of vines up the side of the broken house to reach Kit, who carefully pushed aside chunks of concrete as he worked his way free—and the Rogues.
Through the red misty fog, the ground shook as an upperlevel charged toward them. Its head swung back and forth, smoke curling from its nostrils as it huffed.
It was a hulking, monstrous thing. The very air trembled from the force of it—or maybe that was the growing heat, the Earth’s foundation unsettled as the core swelled and swelled in deep unrest.
She stumbled forward, sweeping out her hand. The blue light missed; her aim was weak. She did it again, feeling like her Stella was being drawn from a pit of nothing. Was this how drained Lucien felt? Yet still he gave. So could she.
With a desperate, ragged scream, Vesperin gave everything. The light that burst from her was as brilliant as a geomagnetic storm. Swirls of color, both blue and white. Stella and… something else. Something she had seen before, in her village, when Atlas had raised his palm and shown her the dancing white light that tickled her skin when their fingertips met.
He was with her, even now.
The upperlevel Rogue burst into ash.
In the aftermath, Vesperin’s chest heaved. Her lashes stuck together when she blinked. Her vision grew cloudy. Her lower lip trembled as she reached up to wipe her eyes—only, her fingertips came away red. Blood.
She was on her knees, on the ground, and her palms sank into the dirt.
Auren fell by her side, lifting her chin. "You are bleeding." He wiped his thumbs beneath her eyes, but more blood fell from them, like tears. He reached for the edge of his cloak and ripped a strip of fabric away, using it to gently press beneath her eyes, until the blood was cleared and her tears were a soft pink.
"Lucien?" she rasped.
Cyrus and Rhyden helped her stand, and she leaned heavily into them both, bone-tired.
She found Lucien climbing up the side of his ladder of vines. He did so with abandon—for her. Wariness pounded at her from all sides as they watched Kit like he was a ticking bomb. Lucien only went to him, trying to help her, because she said he would not hurt them. She could not help but wonder: what if she’d been wrong?
Vines shot from his arms, latching onto the broken structure as he climbed, desperate.
The house groaned beneath him. The air burned hotter.
A shadow shifted at her feet. A warning.
It was only her love for him that brought a sudden strength to her limbs as she stepped forward, her hand raised, fingertips stretching out, as she called, "Lucien, don’t?—"
The side of the house collapsed, and time seemed to slow—just for her—as Lucien lost his footing and disappeared into the pit of her broken home.
She screamed, the sound raw and jagged.
She couldn’t see him—couldn’t see him. Couldn’tbreathe.
Vesperin sobbed, already moving, stumbling forward. She dropped to her knees at the edge of the collapse, splintered wood and broken stone cut into her knees.
She didn’t believe it at first.
Shefeltthe blood drain from her face. Her heart stuttered, tripping over itself.
Her jaw dropped open. Air whistled through her teeth. "No." She swallowed. Maybe if she said it louder, it would be true. "No. No. No, no, no."
She heard Rhyden curse.
A hand fell on her shoulder, trying to pull her to her feet. She didn’t want to move, afraid if she did, it would be real.
Too late. It already was.
There was a cough, blood spraying past his reddened lips.
Lucien was on the ground, his body twisted at an unnatural angle. There was a jagged piece of metal—from the ship, a distant part of her mind realized, latching onto that thought, as if it could not bear her house being the thing to?—
To…
