A chuckle sounded to his right, and Jasyn was greeted with the sight of Kryth waving the burning herbs near Iskra’s snout. Jasyn was ready to pounce on the man, but the minister grabbed a rope and slid himself down easily. Jasyn’s anger was so deep, he planned to follow Kryth down, but then he remembered who was actually important here.
Iskra’s footsteps padded roughly across the ledge as she turned, and Jasyn leaned further into the wall, as if that would hide him better.
He prayed to Slone he would make it out alive, that he would leave victorious with the Heart in his hand—and more importantly, with Iskra in his arms.
This was the perfect moment to act, to do what he hoped would weaken but not kill her, but all thoughts were swept away as he saw it. Puncturing Iskra’s chest, like a wound bleeding red, the ruby Heart of the Sun Court gleamed, taunting him. It was like a target, beckoning him forward. His breaths quickened as fear stormed his heart. Jasyn couldn’t live in a world without Iskra. Just the thought had him keeling over.
Refusing to accept any other outcome but life, he squared his shoulders back and prepared for another way out. His first step was to get close to her.
“Iskra,” he said, barely loud enough for his own ears, yet Iskra huffed through her nose.
He reached out his hand; she could come to him. He would show her he wasn’t a threat. He loved her and wouldn’t dare let any deathly harm come her away. She was his Sundrop, his blooming flower in the light.
His arm shook as she approached him, her steps loud as her tail swung. The rest of the cave didn’t matter. It was just him and her.
“Iskra,” he repeated.
She huffed again, but this time, it was more intense. The next few seconds were a quick blur. He saw her opening her mouth, and he dove right as fire blasted from her mouth. He was on his hands and knees, crawling away from the flame’s path.
Getting away from her wrath must have angered her even more, because she let out another blast of fire. This time, he was trying to get up, which caused him to slow. Heat burned the back of his leg, and he choked down his scream. His legs wanted to buckle under the pain, but he leaned against the wall, keeping his body up.
Not for long, because Iskra was throwing more fire at him. Sweat coated almost every inch of his skin, his clothes clinging to him, as he ran along the wall, but he soon would be out of space.
He turned so his back was against the wall, and Iskra hadn’t moved any further. She wouldn’t need to take another step. Her stream of fire was long enough to cause damage even from that distance.
“My Iskra,” he said. “I’m so sorry you have to do this.”
Because he knew she hated it. If she had her own mind still, she would never attack him like this.
Another burst of his own anger hit him then. At the Gods and minister for letting a soul like Iskra be doomed to such a fate. At Iskra herself because of the lies and how she knew they were always on borrowed time. At himself for not worshipping Iskra more when they did have that time.
His life had unexpectedly led to this moment. He had lost and lost, and he refused to believe his destiny was to lose more, not after how much life Iskra had filled him with. Even his gardening didn’t have the power to revive him like she did.
A whining noise came from Iskra, and Jasyn opened his eyes, scared someone was hurting her, only to realize she was in pain because of him.
Light poured from every inch of his body, beaming so brightly, his instinct was to squint—but he quickly realized the light didn’t bother his eyes. It didn’t hurt him at all. It had been years since his powers manifested like this, and if he wasn’t currently threatened with dying, he would have cried tears of joy.
Iskra moaned, and he knew it was too much for her. She stumbled as she tried to look away, but it wouldn’t protect her from how far his light reached. It was a flood of sunlight shining directly at her, and the consequences of staring at him would be detrimental, but he hoped at least it would not be deadly.
“Come here,” he said quietly. Iskra needed to get close enough for him to rip the Heart from her chest.
But he knew she wouldn’t approach him now, so he had to move. Jasyn walked slowly, hoping he was quiet enough for her not to hear him. He doubted that was the case. Her senses must be amplified in this form, but that also meant she was extra sensitive to the light. As long as he could keep it up, she would be distracted.
Her body heat strengthened as he reached her. It was overwhelming to be standing near something so much larger than him and willingly being here next to it. He took a breath to admire the enormity and strength of her. He couldn’t believe this was the same person his heart had fallen for—even stranger was the desire for her after this was over, to want to ignore the arranged marriage with Esi and take Iskra’s hand instead. He should condemn both of the women for lying to him, yet he couldn’t.
Jasyn sighed, and perhaps it was the wrong thing to do, because his light extinguished, and before he had a chance to process, Iskra’s tail swung under his feet, causing him to fall face-first. He grunted as his body hit cold rock, his knees sore from how he landed. Every inch of his skin felt like it was aflame, and the burn marks across his body seized at the impact.
He didn’t allow himself to stop now. He got back up and faced Iskra, who had death in her eyes. He called to his light, and at first, the power didn’t surface with the same brightness as before. He urged it on, thinking of his siblings who sacrificed themselves for the Undertaking, thinking of his father, who participated each year even with how dangerous it was. Finally, the light shined again.
Iskra whined as she directed her eyes away from him. This time, Jasyn ran.
He was at her in seconds, and her eyes couldn’t take the light. She aimed her fire recklessly, and he had to dodge it. It didn’t stop him from pushing onward. This would end now, with the Heart in his hands and Iskra alive.
Jasyn jumped over her flame, and as he did, he condensed his light to shine directly in her eyes. She bent her long neck backward, exposing her chest to him.
He took the small dagger he had sheathed at his thigh, wedged it underneath the Heart, and dug it out, a rush of her blood splattering his face. The ruby Heart of the Sun Court sprung across the ledge—right at Bron’s feet.
Bron stared down at the Heart right below him. Jasyn expected him to lunge for it and claim victory, but he hesitated. His chest was heaving, like he’d climbed with speed to get here.
