And a dozen hungry akadim stood before me.
For a split second, I was still, my chest heaving.
My nostrils flared, every part of me shaking as I held up the red shard and shouted. “Get back!”
But several of them stepped forward, and within seconds, I was surrounded. I grabbed one of Auriel’s swords, and though I wasn’t healed, I raced forward, slashing with both arms, slicing through stomachs and shoulders and hands and pushing back every akadim that came near me. I felt out of control, blinded by my grief and rage.
I could barely keep track of who I’d fought and who I hadn’t because they just kept coming and coming. And I kept fighting.
Until I was attacked from behind. An akadim wrapped its arms around my waist and hauled me into the air, as the others gathered, grabbing my legs and arms. My weapons were taken and thrown to the ground, including the red shard.
“No!” Then I yelled out for help, pleading, begging for anyone to hear me, for anyone to send aid in any way they could, in any realm. But no one did. Not here in Korteria, and not beyond.
The akadim just laughed at me, tugging at my hands, and tearing at my cloak and boots. I screamed again even though I knew I was alone. It was over. No one was coming Maybe my cries would reach someone in town. Maybe someone would hear me, someone would hear me scream, and at least, in some small way, bear witness to my end. At least, I’d know I tried. Tried to survive. Like Auriel wanted. Like I knew Rhyan would have.
So I sucked in a breath, my lungs filling with air as the akadim clawed and grabbed at me. The next scream that tore through me encompassed all of the fire inside, all of the power that remained. All that was in my soul, in this life, in all my lives. The scream that relayed the horror I felt at being brought to this point, to this ending. I poured it all in, screaming it out.
Crying. My fury, my anger, my pain, my rage. My fear.
And my love.
It was primal and ancient, and when I finished I was met with the silence of the night. The blowing of the wind through my hair, the twinkling of the stars above, the shifting of clouds in the sky. For a moment, even the akadim had gone quiet.
And then somewhere in the utter silence and stillness of the dark, someone called back to me. One word. My name. “LYR!”
I gasped, my stomach dropping. No. No. It couldn’t be. He was dead. I’d stabbed him, I’d killed him. I’d watched his body go still. He was ... He was?—
“LYR!”
The akadim holding me started to panic and suddenly, half of the beasts who’d been grabbing me turned, shifting into formation, their backs to me, creating a line of defense against the oncoming threat.
“Put me down!” I yelled. “Put me down!”
“LYR!” Rhyan screamed, tearing through the meadow.
An akadim ran out to meet him, his claws slashing in the air, but Rhyan slashed back and the akadim fell. He took down the next, and the next, butting his head into the demon. It collapsed to the ground. He spun on his heels and kicked, his boot crushing the beast in the belly. The next one he lifted by the shoulders and flung him to the ground. Rhyan bared his teeth, his fangs glistening in the moonlight. The akadim released me, rushing to attack Rhyan next. He leaped onto Rhyan, claws extending to his face. But Rhyan slammed his head into the monster’s, rolled him onto his back, and punched him in the nose, again and again, before he stood, and kicked him aside, like he was nothing.
Heart pounding, I reached down, blindly reaching for the red shard until my fingers felt the cool metal of the hilt, and tightened around it. I stood, brandishing the blade in my shaking hands.
All but two of the remaining akadim had fallen. Their bodies were scattered through the meadow. And together the last demons ran for Rhyan, each one grabbing an arm. He was hauled back, growling and roaring and screaming my name.
His eyes met mine, red and glowing. But he broke free of their hold, and suddenly he had become the one holding down their arms. With a snap of his wrists, he pulled them in front of him, and bashed their heads together.
They crumpled to the ground on either side of him.
And then he ran for me, his movements feral.
I held the sword higher, my hands trembling.
“Lyriana,” he said, stopping just in front of me. And this time when he said my name, it washisvoice. Rhyan’s voice. Soft, and lilted, and human and alive. Not akadim. Not akadim.
“Lyr!” he cried. He stepped in toward me, and sank to his knees, his arms wrapping around my legs, his hold tightening.
A shuddering gasp escaped my lips, my heart racing, my body trembling.
His shoulders shook. He was crying, burying his face against my thighs. Like he was trying to crawl inside of me.
Slowly, I removed one hand from the sword, and lowered it down as I reached for his hair, stroking my hand through his curls. They were soft again. Like they used to be. Like they were when he was alive. My heart pounded, ready for him to jump up suddenly and knock me over, to finish our fight in the cave. But his shoulders only shook harder, his tears soaking through my riding pants.
