The petrification takes a lifetime. One paw hardens first, then the severed tail, followed by the body. By the time the manticore’s head turns to stone, Luca’s entire body is rigid too. His head doesn’t fall back to the sand. I wish it would.
Ciprian reappears to the side, staggering and falling to his knees.
The crowd explodes, roaring with excitement.
But I can’t look away from the sand. The fight is won, but at what cost?
Blood streams from both of Ciprian’s nostrils, coating his lips and soaking the neck of his shirt. Luca is impossibly still. Celine glances between them frantically. Strands of red hair have escaped her braids. They whip against her cheeks as the wind tears through the arena.
The sword falls from her hand. Then she’s running, yanking her shirt off and wrapping it around Luca’s wound. Blood soaks through the fabric in seconds.
Ciprian crawls to them, every inch of ground painfully won, until he’s close enough to curl his hand around Celine’s calf. The change is instantaneous. His head snaps up, then he stumbles to his feet shakily and adds his shirt to the makeshift tourniquet.
Herterror for Luca healed him. At least partially.I shudder. The amount of fear required to replace what Ciprian lost in battle... I need to get down there.
Riven says something to the crowd.
I don’t hear a word.
The only thing I care about is the platform under my feet slowly dropping.
My hands, pressed against the invisible barrier, shoot forward as it deactivates. Then I’m running. Feet sinking into the sand. I’ve never run faster.
Alistair beats me there. His fingers tremble as he reaches for Luca. They come back coated with blood. “Let me seal it,” he whispers. “Angel, let me try; he’s losing too much.”
“Stay awake for me, Luca!” Celine’s voice is thick with unshed tears. “Don’t you dare leave me. You promised. You promised you never would.”
I help her unwind the shirts, glancing at Alistair’s ruby stare. I don’t know if his plan will work. From the wild, frenzied gleam in his eyes, he’s not sure either.
Once the puncture is exposed, Alistair makes quick work of sealing it. My shoulders sag as the bleeding slows to a crawl. I clap my hand on his back. He’s trembling like a leaf. “You did a good job,” I say. “See? He’s not bleeding anymore.”
“But his heartbeat,” Ali gasps. “It’s too slow.”
I grit my teeth. We all hear it. “Should he shift back?”
“I don’t think he can,” Ciprian murmurs.
“Please,” Celine sobs. When her voice breaks, something inside me does too.
Luca’s eyes flicker open. They’re a faded, streaky yellow and coated in white film. A pained sound comes from low in his throat.
“You’re going to be okay,” Celine says. “I know you are. Stay awake, please, Luca. Please.”
Gods, he tries.
I can tell he does.
But his heart slows further. His eyes flutter closed again. Theydon’t reopen.
Then his giant, serpentine body turns back into a man.
It’s too easy. Not a shift at all, but a final form. Permanent.
I wait for his next heartbeat—listening for it with all I have.
It doesn’t come.
Celine throws her head back and screams.
