He couldn’t see her clearly anymore as his eyes were flooding with water. His voice was cracking beneath each of her laboring breaths.
Faustina just stared up at him.
“You just need to stay alive. Faustina?”
Still she said nothing. Her skin kept turning whiter and whiter as the ground around them became redder.
He looked up at the battle around them; his men were pushing the filth back. He screamed, “Healer! I need a healer!”
But he spotted the healer on the ground, clutching a wound of his own. A Sordes woman was walking away from him, black curls spilling over her shoulders and a satisfied smirk on her face. Her eyes landed on him, holding Faustina. Her lips parted, her eyes widened, and then she kept walking toward them.
Faustina caught sight of her and a whimper left her throat.
The Sordes woman opened her mouth and spoke in their language, “Don’t bother. Your heretic can’t save her now. Her fate was sealed the second I Saw her.”
She was the one responsible for this?
What on earth was she talking about, fate?
Then she tilted her head. “This was as far as I Saw, though.”
Saw? What was she talking about?
“What will you do now?”
Nikias’ bloodstained hands flew through the air along with his vicious scream, and the dazed look left the demon’s eyes as she lifted one hand to cast. Her shield shattered, and Nikias already had another rune flying toward her. She threw herself out of the way, and the rune meant to cut her in half only caught her side, but she let out a horrific half-scream, half-laugh as she grabbed her now bleeding side. Another Sordes grabbed her and started hurrying away as she fell into a horrific fit of laughter, and Nikias could not pursue with Faustina still in his lap.
He looked back down at his wife, and she was fading even faster.
Nikias had to do something.
Even if he wasn’t a good healer, if he didn’t, she was going to be gone in a matter of seconds. He lifted his hands again, them shaking as he summoned his vitae.
Faustina held her own throat now and whispered, “Let—me—go.”
He couldn’t. If he saved her, maybe this time he could get it right. If he saved her, maybe it would be enough.
“Don’t give up! I love you. You know how much I love you, and I can’t do this without you. You can’t give up; you have to keep fighting! A healer will be here soon. Faustina? Faustina, please! Stay with me, please,amata!”
Each breath of hers came out a horrid choking sound as his vitae lit up the air and he tried to get the healing rune right. It wasn’t working—something was wrong. How was it supposed to go again? Why hadn’t he ever practiced this more?
She removed her hand from her throat as she said, “No…”
No?
Her hand fell to the ground, knuckles brushing the stone.
Nikias’ hands still shook in the air with a mangled, half formed rune as Faustina lifted her gaze to the old temple roofabove. Her eyes turned glassy and still. As she gave her last breath, she smiled.
He kept trying to get the rune right, but it was too late.
She was gone.
Nikias looked down again, ready to plead once more, but this time her hair was red, her eyes hazel, and still dead.
Aimilia was dead in his arms too.
Aimilia blinked, but her chest wasn’t moving to take in any air. She looked up at him and said, “What will it take?”
