Page 85 of Death Will Follow

“She’s not here,” Riven said, brows drawn in a pitying expression.

He shook his head and craned his neck to peer over Riven’s shoulder.

“Where is she?”

“We never could have won. Nova saw that.” Riven’s words came soft and slow, as if she were soothing a youngling. “She went to face Omen alone.”

Callan stumbled back a step. Riven caught his elbow, tried to steady him, but he ripped out of her grasp.

“You lie,” he snarled, his voice breaking with the denial. “Bryn would never allow it.”

Shoving past the Wyldling, he ran for higher ground, boots slipping in the dark sand as an icy dread crept along his limbs. His knees gave out when he reached the summit. Frantically, he scanned the horizon, desperately seeking his mate.

Something is wrong.

He fell forward, bracing himself on his hands and gritting his teeth as another stab of pain stole his breath. When the agony passed, he looked up to find something black soaring among the clouds, approaching from the north.

Hauling himself to his feet, Callan sprinted across the sand. When Bryn touched down several strides ahead of him, he collapsed, scrambling on all fours to reach the familiar form of his mate lying motionless on the ground.

Crouching at Nova’s side, Callan cupped her face with trembling hands. She blinked once, her eyes unseeing, her bloodied mouth open as if trying to speak.

“Nova—my love.” Callan’s heart stuttered.

Her cheeks were impossibly pale against the splash of crimson, her lips dry and colorless apart from the blood painting them.

She saw him then. Eyes ringed with silver locked onto his, a weak smile flashing on her face as she curled her fingers around his wrist and squeezed weakly.

“Cal—” His name caught on her tongue, eyes widening as her breath was cut short.

He lowered his hands from her face to her chest, fingertips meeting not the solid metal of a chest plate but the cold, wet fabric of her tunic. Pulling back, he tore his gaze away from her lovely face, finally seeing what his mind had initially hidden from him: Kinslayer buried in her chest.

“No, no, no.” He thrashed his head back and forth. “Find a healer!” His mind raced, sifting through actions and outcomes, but he couldn’t latch onto a single rational thought. He gripped the hilt, eliciting a pained gasp from Nova.

“Don’t!”

Bryn’s shout at his ear startled him from his panic.

“Removing it will take her faster,” she said. “Just be with her.”

Callan glanced at Bryn, grim understanding settling in his bones. Swallowing hard over the sorrow swelling at the back of his throat, he nodded once. Taking Nova’s hand, he wove his fingers together with hers, squeezing as though he might keep her in this world if he only held on tight enough. With his other hand, he smoothed her hair, brushing away the black strands sticking to her forehead. He wanted to speak, but a tidal wave of grief waited behind his lips, ready to spill out the instant he opened his mouth.

Nova’s gaze flitted about his face before finally settling on his mouth.

“I’m s-sorry.”

Callan shook his head slowly, unable to contain his tears. They tracked down his face and fell onto her blood-soaked tunic.

“Don’t say that,” he murmured, fighting to keep the tremble from his voice. Fighting to be strong for her. “Omen is gone. You saved us all.”

Vaguely, he registered Riven whispering that she would find Nox. The sound of her shift and the beating of her great wings followed.

“Please,” Nova rasped, her gaze going out of focus, as if she were seeing beyond him. “I don’t want to go.”

Tears welled in her unblinking eyes until, swollen, they rolled down her temples. Callan brushed them away, clearing his throat and gathering every shred of his resolve.

“I know, love.” Cupping her cheek, he shushed her gently. Once more, he swallowed against the lump at the back of his throat: a roar it took all his strength to restrain. “I will find you—I swear it. If I have to track you clear across the After Realm, I will come home to you, Starlight. I’ll always follow you home.”

Her eyes focused once more, widening as her mouth fell open in a mask of fear. She gripped his hand, and her back arched, her body fighting against the pull of death briefly before going still.