Osamu glanced at the man. “You want to go below the ground where a Gargoyle is fighting a Water Witch?”
The man grimaced.
“Just give him a few minutes,” I said confidently.
The rumbling stopped abruptly.
RS?I demanded.Is Slate okay? Did he kill her?
He's fine but so is she. Eleanor got him into a warded cage,RS reported.His magic can't reach past her magic.
“Damn it!” I snarled and started running. “She caged him!” I shouted back at the others.
“Elaria, no!” Osamu shouted. “Wait!”
I tripped over something—a wire—but caught myself before I fell. A tripwire, one of the most basic traps there are. But the spell attached to it wasn't anywhere near basic. Eleanor must have laid an outer ring of minor spells and an inner ring of major magic. When Slate got too close to those deadly traps, she'd snatched him away from the danger zone. And I had run headfirst into it.
Something rained down upon me but it wasn't water. Wherever it hit, I started to burn. Not a fiery burn that I would have been immune to. This was more like a chemical burn—acid eating through fabric and skin. Melting hair. Burrowing past flesh to the bones beneath. I stumbled and fell forward, screaming.
People surrounded me. Someone was shouting that they shouldn't touch me. Someone else snarled at them. I was rolled onto my back and lifted onto someone's lap. I couldn't open my eyes; I wasn't even sure I still had eyes. My entire face felt as if it were slipping off my skull. It was the kind of pain that makes you wish for death or at the very least, unconsciousness. I started to tremble as my body fumbled to repair itself. The burning diminished in mere seconds but those seconds had felt like forever. My screams settled into moans and whimpers.
“Elaria,” Verin's voice broke. “Elaria, can you hear me?”
“That's acid rain. You really shouldn't—” Osamu started.
“If you tell me not to touch her one more time...” Verin let the threat hang ominously.
Osamu shut up.
My eyes healed. I blinked. It was all blurry for a second. Hazy and tinted red. I made a small wounded sound and lifted my hand. My vision focused on an image from a horror movie—skin pocked with seeping wounds and blood everywhere. Locks of long dark hair draped my forearm. Hair? I started to lift my hand to my scalp but another hand took mine—carefully avoiding the healing wounds—and pressed it back down. Men crouched around me making sounds of distress. Faces came into focus. Torin had my hand cradled in his; tears ran down his cheeks as he stared at me.
“Is it that bad?” I croaked.
Declan let out a sound that was part sob and part laugh. “No, you're fine, sweetheart. As long as you're alive, it's not that bad.”
I looked up into Verin's face, directly above me. He wasn't crying, not even the manly, silent weeping Torin did. Instead, he looked shell-shocked—as if his world had exploded and he was trying to gather the pieces. His eyes were dark indigo and glassy, his lips trembling, and his forehead creased.
“Just give me a minute.” I took a deep breath without pain and sighed it out. “There. All good. I promise.”
I freed my hand from Torin's grip and lifted it again. It was healed, only the blood remained as evidence of my trauma. My scalp tickled and when I touched it, I felt my hair growing, pushing at my fingertips. Weirdest feeling ever. I tried to sit up but Verin tightened his grip and kept me where I was.
“I'm okay,” I whispered to him. “We've been here before, remember? I'll be fine, Dragon.”
Verin grunted and reluctantly let me go.
Gage and Torin took my hands and helped me up. The witches waited in a huddle nearby, all of them staring at me as if I'd just come back from the dead. Even the witch leaders, who knew about my goddess immortality, looked shocked.
“Remarkable,” Osamu murmured as he looked me over. “Absolutely fascinating.”
I looked down and winced. Long strips of hair clung to my bloody clothing and flushed, new flesh showed through ragged holes in the fabric. I brushed away the hair on my clothes and ran my hands through the hair on my head, getting rid of any remaining strands that clung to me.
Declan pushed my hands away and smoothed my hair for me. “It's fine—as beautiful as ever.” Then he yanked me against his chest and buried his face in my rapidly regrowing hair. I felt him shudder with a released breath.
“I'm okay.” I leaned back and took Declan's face in my hands. “I'm okay,” I said it again because he looked like he needed to hear it. Then I let him go and looked around. “Anyone else injured?”
“No. You cleared the path for us.” Osamu said dryly.
“Good, then let's keep moving.” I started forward.
