Her mouth opened. No sound came out.
Kaelith swore, casting a glance over his shoulder at the collapsing world beyond. Then back to her. “Fuck.”
His fingers dug into her cheek.
“I know, pet,” he said softly. “I know.”
She sagged forward, forehead pressing into his shoulder. “He’s… he’s—”
“I’m sorry.” His voice was rough now. “But we need you, Rynna. Right now.”
Another quake rocked through the ground. But all she could feel was the cold. The absence.
And his hands—Kaelith’s hands—still holding her together.
Then his mouth was at her throat. She didn’t see him move. One second, he was watching her, and the next, there was searing heat where his lips latched onto the hollow of her neck.
“Ahhh!” A shocking pain lanced through her skin as his fangs sank in, followed by a burst of molten pleasure.
Her body arched, hips jerking forward without permission. It burned. Stars, it burned. But not just from the puncture. The bite dug something else up with it, something buried too deep to reach on her own in her current state. Rage tore through her like wildfire, eating the grief alive. Her own fangs dropped without warning, the taste of blood and pain waking the primal monster within her.
Her talons shot free. And before she could think, her hand was around his neck, burrowing into the sinew of his throat, just enough to feel the ligaments shift beneath his skin. His pulse jumped hard and fast against her palm, and she squeezed harder. Then,his fangs tore from her neck with a gasp, the sudden movement ripping skin, releasing a hot spray of blood across her cheek.
Unflinching, she squeezed tighter, and his eyes fluttered shut as her fingers shoved into the ridge of his throat. His response, though, was not in pain. Or in surrender. But in stillness. Calm. As if her fury was a familiar weight he’d carried before.
Each pull of air shuddered within her, shallow and ragged, as her chest heaved against his. Her lips curled back, then, baring teeth as she stared into his face. Searching. Snarling. As the blood at her neck still ran in slow rivulets, dripping between them.
She wasn’t ready to let go. Not yet. There was comfort in the fury. It was solid. Tangible. A raw, pulsing thing she could hold onto. Safer than the shredded emptiness left behind by Fenn’s absence.
Her hand squeezed again, cutting off his air entirely, yet he didn’t struggle. Didn’t pull away. She exhaled. Once. Then again. The quiver within her didn’t stop, but it steadied. Enough.
Shifting her weight, her palm braced against the floor. Then, with a grunt that was more sigh than effort, she hauled him up with her, rising to her feet in one fluid, brutal motion. Pebbles and dust rained down around them as the cavern groaned, stone threatening to shear loose from the ceiling. And still, she stared at him.
“I hate you right now, Kae.” She loosened each finger from his neck, one by one.
“I can take it.” He swayed slightly once she let go, blood still glistening at the corner of his mouth. “You’d hate yourself more if you didn’t help them.”
He looked past her then, lifting his head first, then rolling his shoulders back as he drew himself upright. The slack in his frame vanished, each pull of air shallow but deliberate as he reclaimed control of his body.
The others!The thought hit her like a slap.
Rynna turned and froze.
Bran hit the ground first, a sickening bump that echoed louder than it should have. His limbs crumpled unnaturally, mouth slack, eyes glassy with shock. Elara staggered next, her hands flailing weakly before her knees buckled. She fell beside him, her skin gone deathly pale, lips tinged gray. Taren didn’t even cry out. He simply dropped.
“No!” Rynna’s scream exploded from her throat as her head whipped toward the monster.
It loomed taller now. The last of its stony prison split wide, stone raining around its grotesque frame. Limbs writhed, half-formed and insectile, as mouths opened along itsbody, all teeth, all wrong. One gaped wider than the rest, greedily swallowing the stolen light from her friends.
She stumbled back, hands hanging uselessly at her sides. There was no fighting this. Not like this. And the version of herself who might’ve stood a chance felt like a myth now. A dream buried beneath centuries of exile, fear, and half-remembered names. The Wise One.
But she couldn’t reach her. Couldn’tbeher.
She was just Rynna.
Cracked.
Rotten.
