She reached up and gripped his forearm, fingers digging into muscle, sliding in the slickness before locking in place.
“Are these like…discount Hollow-born or something?” she grunted as he hauled her upright.
Kaelith wiped the blood from his palm onto the sleeve of her tunic without asking.
“Seriously?” she muttered.
Two enemy Hollow-born rounded the corner at a sprint, but Kaelith didn’t even look. He lifted one hand, snapped his fingers, and a slicing gust drove into them, sharp as a blade—cutting both across the torso in the same movement. Their upper halves hit the ground a moment before their legs did.
“They’re better than Novices,” he said, eyes scanning the bodies. “But there are no Vessels among them.”
Rynna frowned, blood still trickling from the gash on her shoulder. “What does that—?”
“They’re good.” Kaelith sighed. “But not experts.”
“Of course.” She licked her lips. “And you’re using the Source.”
His eyes scanned the space behind her, shoulders half-turned as if already preparing for the next strike.
“We’ll be lucky if we have the opportunity to deal with those particular consequences.”
A flicker ran down his jaw, and, for a moment, he sagged—knees easing, shoulders curving in—then straightened again. With a jerk, he flicked the blood from the long sword, spraying the stone in quick, wet arcs before raising it to a guard position.
“I’m nearly depleted,” he said without looking at her. “And there remain many more.”
Rynna’s gaze drifted to the hatch across the walkway—the one leading down to the storerooms, where the others were hidden.
Then she turned back to him.
Her hand rose to his face, claws grazing along the stubble of his cheek as she forced his eyes to meet hers.
She knew what he would see—eyes gone black, fangs long behind parted lips. He’d been nearly unconscious the last time he’d seen her like this, and she’d never been sure if he’d actuallyseenher.But he did now. And he didn’t flinch. Just stared.
“You are beautiful.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “Rynna…”
“When we get through this,” she interrupted, wrenching him closer. “I want to see what you can do with this Source.” She leaned in and licked the blood from his cheek. “Just the two of us.” A kiss, light but firm, closed the space between them. “You’ve been caged too long.”
His eyes fluttered shut, and his body shivered once, barely controlled, as a hiss of air warned her.
She spun, blade intercepting a strike meant for Kaelith’s back as he moved with her, cutting down across another Hollow-born’s chest. Backs touching, they moved in unison, each breath matched to the other’s rhythm.
Yet, more of the enemy descended from above, ropes whipping, black uniforms blotting out what little light clung to the canyon walls.
Steel sung. Wind cut flesh. And darkness rippled across the walkways. The clang of weapons and the screams of the dying blended with the heady stink of blood with every inhale. Her arms burned. His shoulders heaved. And they did not falter, fighting one step at a time, their footing slick with gore.
Still, the enemy came.
Then, somewhere above, power stirred—Mira’s, distant and furious—but it was not here yet. Not for them.
Still, the enemy came.
They fought until time lost all meaning, until the canyon itself seemed to tremble beneath the violence of the assault.
Still, the enemy came. And all they could do was last.
Chapter sixteen
Soundreturnedfirst,muffledand warped, like she had cotton shoved deep in her ears. Voices carried somewhere close, but the words broke apart, distorted.
