Shayde’s hands found the back of my neck, and his forehead dropped to mine. For a few fragile seconds, we shared the same breath, our pulses syncing.
Then—his warmth vanished.
I didn’t open my eyes. I listened: to pounding footsteps drawing closer, to the hiss of distant flames, to the sound of Shayde’s retreating steps as he ran back to the cabin.
He will finish activating the chasm. He will grab the last of our gear. He will take the missing piece of the Mareki’s Key to Scarlet.
She will unveil it with the Mareki’s help.
“You are meant for more,” I whispered across themarekem. “And if you ever stop believing it, I’ll rise from my grave and haunt your ass until you remember.”
“Stop being so dramatic and get your asses back here. We’re waiting on the other side.”
I bit the inside of my lip as something inside me splintered. My heart felt like it was being torn in two.
The Tyrian troops roared as they advanced. Ten feet away. Then eight. Then five.
My options were limited. I could wait for death—let them kill me. Or beg for mercy, hoping to be tossed into a dungeon or shackled into servitude. Maybe I’d escape one day. But I had never begged for anything—and I wasn’t about to start now.
So that left me with one choice.
My choice. My control.
My fingers tightened around the hilt of my dagger. The cool blade pressed to the side of my neck—and I started to count.
Three.
Scarlet will save everyone. She’s strong enough.
Two.
My life is a small price to pay. It’s okay.
The blade broke skin. Warm blood slipped down my throat.
One—
Crack.
The sound of bones breaking shattered my countdown. My eyes flew open.
Tyrians—falling. One by one. Their heads twisted at unnatural angles as they collapsed in a rhythmic chorus of thuds.
Off to the side, I saw him. Shayde’s fingers sculpted the air, slicing currents of wind with terrifying precision. He was using air channels—snapping necks like twigs.
When the final body fell, Shayde rushed to me. Without a word, he shoved a branch under the trunk pinning my leg and threw all his weight down. The wood groaned. And then—relief.
I yanked my leg free with a choked breath. Shayde let the tree fall and scooped me up, cradling me as he ran for the cabin.
He laid me gently on the bed and dropped to his knees, scanning my leg without touching. “What hurts?” His voice was hoarse.
Everything.
I forced myself to assess. My leathers had protected most of the damage, and when I reached the side pocket on my calf, I pulled out the object that had lodged between my leg and the tree.
My hands trembled as I slipped the masquerade mask free, flinching as pieces fell to the floor. I ran my fingers over the pocket and felt only minor cuts. The mask must’ve absorbed the worst of the impact.
Shayde picked up the fragments with shaking hands, realization flashing in his eyes. He had forged that mask. His creation had just saved me.
