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Finally, after days of fighting and hundreds of fallen warriors, we’ve won, but I don’t feel anything aside from the suffocating sorrow clouding my thoughts and invading my senses.
How can I possibly care about winning if it cost me one of my mates?
My eyes sting, and I don’t bother to stop the tears from falling. They slip down my cheeks, falling into Azarius’ hair, and I keep running my fingers along his jawline.
The minutes pass by, the world around us nothing but a blur as my thoughts spiral out of control, and I try not to imagine what my life will be like with only Elio and Rafe in it. It’s not a thought I ever thought I’d have to entertain, not one I want to accept, but things look grim. Too grim. The kind of grim you can’t come back from.
We need a miracle to fix this.
Footsteps approach, but I’m barely paying attention, my entire focus on Azarius and his faint breathing. Every breath feels like a tiny miracle in itself, another moment I get to spend with him here. As long as he keeps breathing, there’s a chance.
He isn’t gone yet.
“I’m so sorry,” Ignatius’ voice says gently behind me, making my ears perk up.
I’m half tempted to ask him for privacy because it feels like my private bubble has just burst, but then my heart skips a painful beat in my chest. Realization slowly dawns on me, shattering my thoughts and making my chest seize.
Ignatius has healing magic. He used it to heal my wounds.
He could save Azarius…
“Ignatius, help him,” I beg, cradling Azarius’ head in my lap as tears roll down my cheeks. One slips free and lands on Azarius’ throat, but I can’t make myself move to wipe it away.
His breaths are shallow, growing slower as the seconds tick by.
When Ignatius doesn’t move or step in immediately, I tear my eyes away from my mate and stare up at him. His vibrant eyes are soft, his brows drawn together in worry, but he isn’t moving.
“Ignatius, please.” My voice breaks, and I bite down on my bottom lip to keep it from quivering. “He’s dying.”
Ignatius’ expression darkens, his brows furrowing together, his frown deepening. “Devyn,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry, but I can’t.”
My heart splinters at his words, a sob shaking my shoulders and forcing more tears to spill. “You can. You healed me. You can fix it.”
Ignatius shakes his head slowly and kneels next to me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “His injuries are too great. I don’t have enough magic to heal him, and trying could kill us both.”
I sob again, running my fingers through Azarius’ blond hair, avoiding the parts matted with blood.
Azarius.
Every moment we’ve ever spent together flashes before my eyes, from the first time we met eyes through the passenger window of my car to us fighting together. Everything rushes back, and my heart clenches hard in my chest.
This can’t be the end. I refuse to believe it.
We fought hard, we won the war.
We’re all supposed to be together now.
My despair quickly morphs into anger as I focus on how unfair it is. I risked my life, mastered my magic, and did everything I could to avoid this very outcome.
Yet here we are.
Azarius’ death is not something I’m willing to accept–I can’t–and if I don’t at least try to save him, I’ll never forgive myself. Ignatius might not be willing to risk his life for my mate, but that doesn’t mean I can’t.
“Az, please don’t leave me,” I whisper, bending to press my lips against his forehead. “Just hold on a little while longer.”
I’m vaguely aware of more eyes on us, but I don’t care. Let them watch. Let them see me fight one last time, even if it drains the rest of my magic. Even if it kills me. I’m not giving up, and I know none of my mates would give up on me if the roles were reversed.
I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I sink down inside myself, down to my core. My magic is weak, drained from all the spells I’ve already performed, but it’s there. Burning like an ember, and I know if I prod it enough, I can get it to come back to life.
