“I’m not sure.” Cyph made a noise somewhere between a snarl and a sigh. “He has an abnormal hold on her. I’m going to find out why.” His gaze lingered on the cloud of smoke that Vale sat cross-legged within, and his hands tightened on his scythe. Vale’s wavy hair frizzed from whatever was in the incense, but her spine remained straight as she communed with the Angel and Celestial Goddess.
Cyph’s lips lifted at the corners despite the hurt still echoing in his stare. That small smile was a promise, I realized. Whether to himself to find answers or to her, I wasn’t sure, but I hoped the former.
I smiled, too. While I may be wrecked beyond fucking repair, maybe my friend could find it within himself to hold faith.
“You’re a good man, Cypherion.” It was important he knew that. For months, I’d watched him fall into this new role among the warriors in the palace, grasping leadership, providing insight and strength. He’d shouldered each misstep of those he trained as his own, but he grew more confident each day. Cyph had fought to prove himself for so much of his damn life, and while we’d always believed in him, maybe he was starting to, as well.
He turned to me, cheeks slightly red. “Thanks, Mali.”
Then, something shot between us.
And Cyph was screaming. A roar that took with it every fragile wall I’d built back up. Snuffed out my last shreds of confidence.
I lunged, catching him around his ribs before he could fall and?—
There was a spear through his Angel-damned shoulder.
His screams echoed through my head. Spirits, I’d never forget that cry as long as I lived.
Gently, I lowered him to the ground as he groaned, his blood quickly turning the sandstone red. I tried to apply pressure to the wound, but the spear remained lodged in his shoulder, protruding through his back. My stomach turned, heart rattling.
Footsteps sounded. Hands painted with my best friend’s blood, I looked up.
Three masked Engrossians stalked toward the temple from one of the narrow alleys.
Fucking Spirits, they’d followed us. We were stupid to drop our guard. And now?—
The red seeping into Cyph’s white shirt was growing too quickly, the color draining from his face. He groaned as he rolled on his side, taking the weight off the wounded shoulder.
“Look at me,” I snapped, bracing my hands on the ground that was rapidly becoming a sticky puddle. I lowered myself to look into his eyes.
“Don’t—give me—a fucking—pep talk.” His words were labored, thick breaths between each. “Go!”
I spun, lifting my sword, but froze at the axes trained on me.
“Shit,” I breathed, fingers shaking.
No, I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t freeze again. Not now. Not with my best friend bleeding out beside me. But my mind was tunneling back into my past as those axes shone.
My eyes flashed to Cyph?—
He was crawling through the temple, inching up the aisle with his good arm. Agonized cries left his lips with each pull. A thick red trail of blood painted the stones behind him.
“Vale,” he panted. “Vale, you need to snap out of it.”
I turned back to the approaching Engrossians, their weapons ready. Three against one.
“Vale, you need to run.” Cyph shook her shoulder.
My vision blurred around their forms. He was trying to get her to flee. Leave him here.
Memories flashed before my eyes. A knife carving an ax into my chest. A sword being sharpened. The scars stung.
“No,” I whispered. Sweat beaded on my skin. “Stop it, stop it, not now.”
Blood pounded in my ears. My flesh tore beneath a whip. Cyph’s broken pleas.
“Please, Vale. Come back. You need to run,please.” But the Starsearcher was lost to her session, taken by the celestial beings that controlled fate.
