“Sorcha,” Cat growled, his voice steady but urgent, “we’re on the Bridge of the Forgotten. We need to get off it now.”
Before Sorcha could react, skeletal figures began to rise from the stone. Hollow faces twisted in silent screams as clawed hands reached for them.
Cat leaped in front of her, his massive form a shield as he lunged at the creatures. Sorcha scrambled, grabbing a loose rock and swinging with all her strength. Bones cracked under the impact, but more figures emerged, relentless in their approach.
Then she saw movement at the other end of the bridge. A shadowed figure stood waiting, unmoving.
Cat turned, catching sight of it. For the first time, real fear crossed his face.
“Sorcha, you need to wake up!” his voice desperately pleaded.
The figure began moving at an unnatural speed toward her, its form shifting and flickering like rushingwater. Sorcha couldn’t look away, frozen as dread coiled in her body. Suddenly pain erupted from her side.
She gasped, barely able to process the sensation before something tore into her flesh again as a scream ripped from her throat. Staggering back, she turned just in time to see the creature, its body blackened, twisted, with fangs and hooked talons dripping with blood.
It lunged again, its hollow, hungry eyes locking onto her. Sorcha barely had time to react before it struck again, its claws raking into her once more.
Cat roared, his form surging forward, silver eyes burning with fury. Power rippled through the air, shaking the ground beneath them as he threw himself between Sorcha and the creature. The force of his rage made the mist churn, shadows twisting wildly as the bridge trembled under their weight.
“Wake up, Sorcha!” he screamed. Darkness swallowed her whole. It felt like she was falling, tumbling backward into an endless void. The cold gripped her as if she were sinking to the bottom of the ocean.The pain hit first, burning like breaking through icy waters. Sorcha’s eyes shot open, and as she sat upright an agonizing shriek filled the air.
Her hand pressed to her side, and when she pulled it away, blood smeared her fingers. She gasped for air, her chest heaving, but the world around her still felt off. The walls of her room blurred at the edges, like the mist from the bridge still clung to her.
The creature, its claws, the way it had looked at her, like it had been waiting. Had it been waiting? A shudder crawled down her spine, and for the first time, she let herself wonder, what if she hadn’t woken up? A ragged breath escaped her lips. Beside her, Cat let out a low sound, something between a purr and a groan. He was sprawled beside the bed, his black fur matted with a steady stream of red. His silver eyes found hers, his breathing labored. He had fought for her, had bled for her and it was real. It had all been real.
Sorcha tried to sit up again but the pain was white hot and unforgiving, and she collapsed back onto the bed.She heard the thundering of footsteps from the next room, and then Kyron burst through the door. Kyron barely had time to take in the sight before him. The scent of blood and sweat filled the air, thick and cloying. Cat lay sprawled beside the bed, black fur slick with streaks of crimson, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Sorcha wasn’t much better. She clutched her side, fingers coated in blood, her face pale and strained with pain. For a moment, he just stood there.
“What happened?” His voice came out harsher than he intended, tight with concern.
Before she could answer, Cat stirred, silver eyes cracking open. He barely lifted his head, his massive form trembling from the effort. When he spoke, his voice was gargled.
“Take care of Sorcha.” Kyron stiffened.
The words rang through the room, impossible to ignore. He had just heard a cat speak, but there wasn’t time to process it.
Sorcha pressed a hand to her wound, her voice ragged. “Cat first.”
Even now, she was trying to take care of someone else.
“You’re bleeding all over the place, and that’s what you’re worried about?” Kyron muttered, but he moved.
Crossing the room in a few strides, he grabbed whatever supplies he could find. Linen, ointments, a carved bowl filled with runes. His hands worked quickly, grinding herbs into a thick paste while his thoughts raced. The blood on Cat’s fur looked too dark, almost unnatural. Healing magic worked on people, but whatever Cat was, Kyron wasn’t sure if it would do any good.
He had no choice but to try. Pressing a cloth to one of Cat’s deeper wounds, he murmured a quiet spell, tracing the runes with careful fingers. The bowl’s water shimmered, magic weaving through the liquid, but the glow was weak. Cat let out a low growl, his ears flattening, but he didn’t pull away.
Kyron exhaled. “If you’re well enough to complain, you’ll live.”
Sorcha let out a rough laugh from the bed, but when he turned, she wasn’t laughing anymore. Her head had lolled back against the pillow, her breathing shallow.
Cat would hold on. Sorcha was another story. He wiped his hands on his tunic and went to her side. “Your turn.”
She nodded weakly, peeling her shirt up to reveal the deep gash across her side. Kyron clenched his hands at the sight of it. The wound was ugly, torn flesh inflamed and still bleeding. She had lost so much blood already.
“Hold still,” he said, pressing a clean cloth against
it. Sorcha barely flinched. That was almost worse. “This is going to hurt,” he warned. “I’ll have to stitch it before we get you to the healer.”
She bit down on the edge of her sleeve and gave the smallest nod. Kyron worked quickly, threading the needle with steady hands. He had done this before, hadstitched up wounds far worse than this, but something about it being Sorcha made the task feel heavier. The glow of his runes flickered across her skin, dull compared to what he wished they could do. It would dull the pain, but it wouldn’t erase it. Something had done this to her. Something had nearly torn her apart. He wanted to demand answers, to know where she had been and what had attacked her, but now wasn’t the time. By the time he finished the last stitch, her breathing was uneven, sweat beading across her brow. He didn’t hesitate. Kyron scooped her up, slinging Cat carefully over his shoulder. Sorcha made a weak sound of protest.
