Skewer him.
It had pierced cleanly, brutally through his chest, emerging from his front and anchoring him to the shattered foundation beneath him.
Blood soaked everything.
She stared at the morbidly clean protrusion. Metal jutted up from his chest—like a spire.
His lips parted as another wet, bubbling cough escaped him, crimson trails spilling down his chin.
His glasses. He didn’t have his glasses. He needed them to see. He couldn’t see without his glasses.
Vesperin nodded, on a mission, as she pushed herself to a stand and stumbled closer.
"You’ll be okay, you’ll be okay," she repeated, refusing to look at him. She tripped over stone and more metal—metal like the one that?—
No.
Her eyes scoured the ground, looking for the glint of lenses scattered somewhere.
She was mumbling under her breath. Her brain felt overstuffed. The blue racing light beneath her skin was so bright she couldn’t look down at it without her eyes watering.
"Vesperin… Vesperin."
Hands grabbed her shoulders, making her turn. Auren was looking down at her, lips a thin line of worry. His fingers shook as he held her steady. "Vesperin," he said again, "what are you doing?"
"Lucien needs his glasses." Her jaw trembled. "He can’t—he needs t-them—and…" Her eyes slid past Auren’s, unbidden. Blood. There was so much of it. A strangled, gasping wail broke free from her lips, punched out of her in a ghastly, near animalistic sound.
She didn’t feel real.
She gave a sob. "Auren, I think that—that he needs… help. We have to help him. Please, help him. He—needs—needs a doctor."
Lucien coughed again. She dropped to her knees by his side, her hands hovering over his chest. "Oh—" she gasped. She was afraid to touch him.
His eyes found hers. He was still him. Still Lucien. Even as more blood spilled past his lips as they parted, even as red spilled from around the edge of the metal in his chest. It was too much. He was bleeding too much. He was so pale.
"Lucien," she sobbed. "Lucien,please."
She could barely see him through her tears. Cyrus knelt on her other side. Auren crouched, expression grim. No, no—she wouldn’t believe it.
"He needs a doctor!" Vesperin met their eyes, pleading, begging. She’d rip her heart out—if it meant he would be saved.
Cyrus touched her shoulder, head bowed. "Ves…" Whatever else he had been going to say was swallowed by the red fog.
A soft, cold hand touched hers, and her head jerked down.
Lucien’s hand covered her own on her lap.
His throat worked, lips trembling as he tried to speak.
"Vesperin… my V girl," Lucien said. His voice was so, so faint. More blood splattered past his lips.
She took his hand in both her own, squeezing tightly. His fingers were so cold. The metal piece was obscene where it stuck out of his chest.
"We can fix this. We can. You will be okay, Lucien. Help me get him up," she managed shakily, not looking at Cyrus or Auren.
Lucien returned her grip, faint and weak. She looked down at their joined hands—his was so large. He always kept her safe.
"Hey," Lucien rasped. "It is okay…"
