But I still drew breath. Opening my eyes, I lifted my head.
Reese knelt over me, wings spread around me like a protective embrace. He rose, eyes wild as he turned back to Alistair.
But the Solheart was gone.
Fire burned everywhere, rising up the trees, clinging to the very snow. I choked, throat burning.
Reese's eyes glowed—but it was like looking at an entirely different person.
Enraged, wild. Pulsing with adrenaline and exhilaration. Searching for his next kill.
'You have to promise to bring me back.'
Blood sprayed from my wound and seeped between my fingers. I choked. Crimson liquid spilled from my mouth.
For the first time in my life, I was dying.
"Reese!" I called, as my vision blurred.
The burning rage in his eyes shattered. The wings on his back dissolved into motes of light, and the overbearing heat fled the air.
Reese fell to my side, eyes darting around for danger.
But nothing save us moved.
Dropping his blade, he pulled me into his lap, tearing my tunic open to get a better look at the wound.
"It's okay," he said, pressing a hand to my wound. "I've got you."
Light streamed from his fingers and seeped into my skin. Scorching agony tore through me, and I thrashed, desperate to escape.
Reese's other arm wrapped around my shoulders, pressing me to his chest. "It's alright!" He said, trying to keep me still.
This was healing magic. It wasn't supposed to hurt.
Ferris had said it felt like a warm embrace. Like a pleasant burning.
Gritting my teeth, I fought to keep still, though I felt like I roasted above a bonfire. I stared ahead, into the night, where the scáde had been.
It was gone. Somewhere beyond the pain, I realized the humming had ceased.
Had the scáde listened to me?
Black spots danced across my vision as the pain overwhelmed me. My head thudded against Reese's chestplate as I lost consciousness.
For a moment, I felt soothed. Safe.
The last thing I saw was ashes falling from the sky, gathering on the pile of corpses.
Interlude
BRIGHID
Muirashi was a wretched country of perverted old men and bigoted, useless women. Kentoro matched it nicely: a drab town of black buildings covered in snow, where every passerby seared you with the judgment in their eyes.
I lifted my chin and kept eye contact with the old man staring at me. Lust and disgust—a familiar combination. Oh, they all desired you, but scorned you for daring to dress in a manner that attracted them.
Shrugging my fur cloak down my shoulders, I bared the cleavage of my dress, to spite him—he'd never have me, and I didn't care what he thought.
