Her vision blurred as tears froze to her lashes. Her dark brown skin burned, and then went numb. Her bones thrummed with the speed of her descent.
The world became a smear of white, wind, and terror.
She tried to pull her arms in. Tried to fight the spin. But the sky had no mercy, and gravity had no bargains to offer.
So this is death.
Not quiet.
Not gentle.
A roar.
A rush.
A violent, endless surrender.
Then, another sound rose through the deafening wind tearing past her ears. A roar, but not Pyrran’s cruel delight.
This one cracked open the sky.
This one was different.
Anguished.
Desperate.
Broken.
Korin.
He roared again, and the sound tore a mournful wound through the sky.
Sol’s heart twisted.
Korin was screaming for her. Shifting, probably—bones cracking, scales erupting—racing upward to catch her before she shattered against the waves.
But he was too far.
Too slow.
She could feel it in her plummeting bones. The distance was too great. The fall too fast. By the time Korin reached her, she would already be dead.
I'm sorry.
She didn't know who she was apologizing to or why anymore. Perhaps, it was to Korin for thinking he was a monster the whole time and not accepting that he was her mate. Now there would be no time to explore the possibility.
Maybe the apology was to her parents, who had found her egg and raised her as their own. They would never know what happened to her. Never know that their strange, magical daughter had died falling from the sky, killed by a dragon who refused to believe she was real.
I'm sorry I couldn't. . .
PAIN exploded in her chest.
Sharp.
Burning.
Ripping.
