“What?” she croaked. Her mind reeled. She'd never seen any Hollow-born wield darkness like that on this world.
“Oh? This?” Yata smiled, his eyes blackening entirely as another strand shot from his hand, cracking like a whip across her cheek. “Yes, quite nice, isn’t it? Part of an advanced payment from my sponsor. The ability to wield the Void as if it were any other element.”
That does not sound good. She watched helplessly as blood poured from her wounds, pooling at the base of the tree.
“But as fun as this has been, whoever you are, I’m afraid the experiment has been rather disappointing.” Yata exhaled dramatically. “The Crimson Wolf of Ember Reach couldn’t even handle one Novice while under the Veilroot.”
Then, with a flick of his wrist, shadows snaked out toward Bran, wrapping around his body, binding his arms and legs, pulling him taut.
“But this...” The villain’s grin widened as he glanced at Bran. “Now, this is intriguing. The sponsor will pay handsomely for this.” He chuckled. “Who knew it was hiding in a mere boy all this time?”
Rynna’s vision blurred as pain tore through her body, but even through the agony, she found herself rolling her eyes.Is this asshole seriously monologuing?The absurdity brought a brief flash of her home world, memories of movies slipping through the cracks of her mind.
“Rynna!” Elara burst through the bushes. “I have the antidote! Is Guide Fenn—?”
She skidded to a halt when her eyes took in the nightmare she’d stumbled into: Rynna pinned to the tree by dark spears while the Unit Leader stood listless in front of her, Bran bound and helpless in the shadow’s grip, and Yata looming over them with his blackened eyes and a smug smile.
“Oh, crap!” The words slipped out, then Elara shot toward Fenn, a small blue ampule clutched tightly in her hand.
Before she got there, though, one of the dark spears pinning Rynna dislodged with a sickening crack and slammed into Elara mid-stride.
The girl’s body hit the earth with a heavy thud, her hands clawing at the dirt as the spear pierced through her gut, blood soaking into the soil. The ampule slipped from her grasp, rolling out of sight as her face drained of color.
“Elara!” Rynna's scream tore through the clearing, her body convulsing against the remaining dark restraint as she fought to free herself, but the shadows held fast, too tight, too strong, and her strength fell with every drop of flowing blood.
Yata clicked his tongue. “How unfortunate.” He tilted his head, watching with cold amusement as Elara writhed. “It seems Bain wasn’t up to the task of safeguarding the house, even against a single Novice.” He swept his gaze lazily over the broken forms before him. “What is Ember Reach feeding you all? This was surprisingly entertaining.”
“Oh well! Time to go.”
He shrugged, and the shadows wrapped around Bran like chains, lifting him off the ground. His body hung limp as they dragged him inch by inch toward the rogue. Rynna’s heart raced, helplessness gnawing at her.
Then she heard it, soft footfalls through the brush. Someone was coming. Her heart leaped, though fear clamped down just as quickly. Please, not Taren, she prayed silently. Please let him escape.
But it wasn’t Taren. Bursting from the undergrowth came Gran Hesta, her frail form charging. And in her hand, Rynna squinted, was the antidote.
“No!” Yata snarled, yanking the final spear from Rynna’s shoulder and hurling it toward Gran Hesta.
But the old woman was already there. With the last of her strength, she slammed the pointed end of the antidote into Fenn’s leg just as the darkness tore into her flesh. The impact sent her stumbling, and blood sprayed in every direction as hundreds of cuts bloomed across her body. Her legs gave out beneath her, and she fell to the ground, her life pooling around her.
“Granny, no!” Elara cried, but it was too late.
Rynna’s throat tightened as she dragged her own battered body toward the person who had betrayed them. Fingers shaking, she gently closed the old woman’s eyes, tears blurring her vision. But there was no time to mourn. Not yet.
With what little strength she had left, Rynna hauled herself up Fenn’s motionless body, gripping onto his shoulders with blood-slicked hands. She pressed her forehead to his chest, praying, searching for any sign that the antidote had taken hold.
“Rynna…” His voice cracked, a rasp barely above a whisper.
“Fenn!” She looked up, catching the life flicker behind his once-vacant eyes.
Then it was gone, his body sagging once more under the weight of the drug.
“Ohhh…” Yata exhaled. “Oh, my, my. You had me worried for a moment there. A valiant sacrifice from the old woman, how touching. A true hero’s tale!”
“Shut up!” Rynna screamed.
“But he’s too far gone now.” Yata sneered. “The Veilroot is embedded too deeply in his blood. Not even the antidote can purge it. He’s lost to you, girl. He may as well be dead.”
“No!”
