In a forest that swallows power.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Asha?” River calls, limping toward me, shaking me out of the stunned haze I’d fallen into. His eyes stay glued to the cleaved body of the tenari, as if he can’t quite believe the monster is actually dead. And to be honest, I can’t either. I’m half expecting it to fuse back together and come for us all over again.
“River!” I rush to him, the sword now hanging loosely at my side. “Are you okay?” I ask, scanning him head to toe. He’s favouring his right leg, barely putting weight on it, but it isn’t twisted or broken.
“I’ll live,” he says, breathless but attempting a grin. His gaze drifts back to the bisected creature, and he lets out a low whistle, admiration threaded through disbelief. “Remind me not to mess with you.”
I roll my eyes as relief loosens something tight in my chest.
“Making a weapon from nothing… Is there anything you can’t do?” he adds with a smirk, and my lungs finally settle into something close to a normal rhythm.
“I need some help over here!” Ryder’s voice slices through the clearing, urgent and sharp—and my stomach plummets.
Oh Gods.
What if I hadn’t been fast enough?
River and I bolt toward him. We round the creature’s ruined head, leaping over a twitching antenna, and skid to where Ryder is crouched. His white shirt is soaked in streaks of metallic bluesand greys—tenari blood smeared across the fabric like violent watercolour.
He looks up at me, tension carved into every line of his face.
It isn’t Ryder who’s hurt.
It’s Nala.
She lies unconscious, legs pinned beneath the massive belly of the beast. My breath stutters painfully as I drop the sword beside her and press trembling fingers to her throat.
“Shit,” I whisper, leaning in, praying for movement—anything.
I may have brought her back once, but that power feels distant now, unreliable as smoke. If her pulse doesn’t—
“She’s alive,” Ryder says quickly. “I already checked.”
My lungs collapse in a rush, relief flooding me so fast it nearly knocks me over.
Thank the Gods.
“Just—help me with this,” Ryder grits out as he braces himself against the beast’s hide. “We need to get it off her.”
River and I dive in beside him. The tenari’s skin feels like rough stone beneath my palms. We push hard, every muscle screaming. My arms pulse with sharp pain under the weight, and my vision flares at the edges, but we keep pushing until the carcass finally shifts just enough for Ryder to pull her free.
The moment her legs slide from beneath the weight, I drop to my knees beside her, breath ragged.
Blood stains her trousers, crimson pooling and streaked where the creature crushed down on her, one of its legs piercing through her thigh like an oversized dagger.
I place a hand on her shoulder, trying to steady myself—trying to steady everything—as a cold wave of fear curls up my spine. I don’t think I can heal her—not inhere—not in the place Gifts come to die.
I press my lips together to stop them from trembling.
“Shit… t-that looks bad,” River mutters, wiping sweat from his brow as he points to Nala’s mangled leg.
“What the hell are we gonna do?” His voice cracks beneath the panic.
But I made the sword… Maybe there’s a chance I can heal her. Gods, please let there be a chance.
I swallow hard, sliding closer to Nala’s leg. Her clothing ripped and soaked through. The wound is angry, deep, and pulsing with every weak beat of her heart. My own pulse stutters.
