The glow from Mavyrn’s hands intensifies, spreading like liquid light. It seeps into my skin, traveling toward the wound on my leg. A soft hum fills the air, growing louder, resonating like a distant chorus of voices.
Kael’s grip on Mavyrn tightens slightly, his magic flowing through him like a current. Somehow, I recognize it in my body as it travels through my veins. It’s warm, steady, grounding. Therion’s magic feels different—sharp and electric, a crackling force that makes my body feel charged. Whatever Seren is able to share with me is hesitant. Uncertain. Curious. A faint pulse of energy, a spark waiting to ignite.
Mavyrn’s body trembles, her voice breaking for the first time as she channels their magic through her. Sweat beads on her brow, and the glow around her grows almost blinding. “Hold steady,” she commands, her voice strained. “We’re almost there.”
The light converges on my leg, sinking into the infected flesh. Pain erupts—sharp, searing, all-consuming—and I unleash a guttural scream in agony. If this is the end, I want to rage against it. For the first time, I’m not ready to go.
But then, it shifts. The cold venom in my veins burns away, replaced by a warmth so intense it feels like fire and sunlight combined. I gasp, my body arching off the cot as the energy surges through me.
The glow fades slowly, leaving the room in hushed stillness. My chest heaves as I collapse back onto the cot, my skin slick with sweat but the pain in my leg...gone. I look down to find the black veins andinfection gone, leaving only a cut that could be easily remedied with stitches, herbs and bandages.
Mavyrn staggers, catching herself on the edge of the table. Her hands tremble as she wipes her brow, her expression weary but triumphant. “You’re okay.”
Kael’s relief is palpable, though he masks it quickly, his gaze flicking to Mavyrn. “How long until she recovers?”
“That depends on her,” Mavyrn replies, her voice rasping with exhaustion. “The wound needs to be closed, but the venom is purged. Though the body remembers, so she’ll need rest.”
Her eyes linger on Kael for a moment, something unspoken passing between them. “You’ve inherited more than your father’s arrogance,” she murmurs, trying to keep it low so only he can hear, but failing.
Kael’s expression hardens, but behind his eyes, I see a flicker of something else—grief, or guilt, or both. He says nothing, just looks at me.
The world softens at the edges, like ink bleeding through parchment. I would question what in the Stars Mavyrn means, but consciousness evades me. The magnitude of escaping Morrathys’ grip drowning me under a blanket of exhaustion.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ELYSSARA
I waketo the sound of the wind whispering through the trees, the cool night air brushing over my skin. The fire has burned down to embers, the remnants of a shared dinner are strewn across the table, and the subtle aroma of cooked meats drifts from the hearth. My body feels heavy, thick with a bone-deep exhaustion that comes after surviving something I probably shouldn’t have. The others are curled up on the floor—Seren under Ronyn’s cloak, Therion on the floor using his own as a pillow. I’m grateful they’re getting some respite after our arduous journey through the forest, not to mention duskprowlers and leaving everything they knew in the Virellin slums.
The ache in my leg is dull now, more of a throb from the stitches than the searing agony from before. I shift slightly, wincing at the stiffness, and that’s when I feel him.
He’s seated next to the cot, his broad shoulders hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees. His face is turned toward the fire, the faint light catching the sharp lines of his jaw and the unruly waves of his hair. The steady rise and fall of his chest is the only indication that he’s relaxed, though his posture is rigid. Vigilant.
A slight flicker of surprise chases up my spine at his presence. “You’re still here,” I murmur, my voice hoarse from disuse.
He turns immediately, his piercing blue eyes locking on to mine. There’s a softness there that catches me off guard—concern, relief, something unspoken.
“I am. Where else would I be?” he replies, his voice low, grounding.
I offer a weak smile, shifting slightly to sit up. “I thought you might’ve gotten bored. Sitting around, babysitting the slum girl.”
His lips twitch, but the smirk doesn’t quite form. “You’re not so boring, Lightborne. You’ve got a habit of keeping things... interesting.”
I huff a quiet laugh, though it takes more effort than I’d like to admit. My gaze drifts to the shelves lined with vials and trinkets, the faint scent of herbs lingering in the air. “Mavyrn. She’s... something else.”
Kael nods, his expression thoughtful. “She’s an Arcanist,” he says, watching the embers. “It’s... rare. Part inherited, part learned. Some sort of blend between magic and science.” He pauses, breath catching in his throat like he’s hesitating. “She was close to my father,” he says eventually.
There’s a weight to his words, something guarded, but I press gently. “Your father?”
His jaw tightens, just slightly, before he speaks. “He died. A long time ago.” His eyes flicker toward the fire, the light reflecting a storm of emotion he doesn’t voice.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly, my chest tightening at the heaviness in his tone.
He shrugs, but it’s not dismissive. “It’s part of life. Loss. Death. It shapes us.”
For a moment, I consider telling him about my parents, about their sacrifice for me, about the simmering vengeance that drives me forward. But the words lodge in my throat. Trust doesn’t come easily, not when survival has always hinged on keeping parts of myself hidden.
“They’re gone too,” I say instead, my voice barely above a whisper. “My parents.”
