“Kael, El!” Therion bellows through the door. “It’s Ronyn! Something’s wrong. Hurry!”
Fuck.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ELYSSARA
My ruinedbody sharpens in an instant.
Ronyn.
“Fuck,” Kael mutters gruffly, shucking the blankets, already on his feet.
We dress without thought, only action, and I throw my hair into a tail, securing it with a leather strap.
“It’s the Flame-heart—I fucking know it,” I curse. I knew this wasn’t the end of what the Heart of Ashara would do to him. I knew it would come at a cost.
“We’ll handle it, El,” Kael assures, but I feel a trickle of panic through the tether which does nothing to soothe my frayed nerves.
We rush through the door, where Therion paces the platform in the treetops. He’s restless, disquieted.
But he casts his eyes over both of us, attuning to us, and a faint smile tugs at his lips.Fucking Aetherstrides and their senses.
“I guess you didn’t need me, after all,” Therion teases Kael, which earns him a sharp shove in the chest.
What the fuck does that mean? Need him for what?
I push down my curiosity—I don’t have time.
“Take us to Ronyn,” Kael commands, letting the taunt go.
But Therion’s already moving. He bounds down the steps from Kael’s room nestled in the trees like the graceful warrior he is. I follow, but my legs almost give out, still trembling and weak.
I force strength into my stride, but I stumble and trip down the stairs, anyway. I don’t care—I need to get to him.
Kael moves like he always does; powerful, controlled. His muscles tense and strain as he leaps, his boots finding the ground. He lands with the lethal grace of a duskprowler. He spins, hand outstretched, waiting for me. The moonlight glints off his god metal swords, and his muscled arms strain against the leather barely holding them. I reach for his hand, leaping the last few steps.
Then, we run.
My boots collide with the forest floor, urgent and desperate, careening into the night. All pleasure forgotten in an instant.
Because the Final Gate can’t have him. Not when he’s only just come back to me. Not my Ronyn.
My chest heaves, and my legs blaze with heat as I push harder to keep up with Kael and Therion.
Thornewood rushes past me in a blur of greenery, light and wood. A kaleidoscope of myth and ethereal beauty nothing more than a second thought as my focus sharpens into the pointed tip of a blade.
That’s when I see it?—
Jax, Merrik, Rubi, Seren, Daelen, and Correk surround a figure that writhes on the ground, kicking and snarling like a possessed beast.
Their weapons are drawn, aimed and ready to wield.
We slow our pace, not wanting to startle anyone.
Therion edges forward, axe drawn and held high above his shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Kael whispers as he follows Therion’s lead and prowls towards the group with a predator’s gait.
