“HOLD!” Ryker roared.
The entire valley quieted under its Commander’s rule.
No wind.
No snowfall.
My vision began to sharpen once more.
Even the moon’s rays seemed to shimmer in fright. Or maybe defiance.
The blue path stopped trembling.
The purple light retreated back into the darkness with a hiss.
With a ferocious groan, Ryker’s fingers dug into the blue ice with a resolve that would have made lesser men shake. His other hand gripped Dax tighter, wings and all, as he hauled them both from the depths.
I stepped onto the bridge, eager to help. My own knees threatened to buckle again, this time from the effort of keeping it afloat.
“Stay there!” Ryker bellowed. His voice was still commanding, but I heard the tremor beyond it.
Fear.
It took everything in me to listen.
The whole world blurred around me. The only thing I could still see was Ryker fighting for both of their lives.
Finally, mercifully, Ryker managed to drag Dax’s entire body onto the surface. He hauled him into his arms, wings dangling to the side, and raced them both to the shore.
As soon as he reached the steady, safe ground, I collapsed into a spent heap. My knees welcomed the relief, even as they stung.
The bridge succumbed to darkness.
Ryker placed Dax gently onto the snow. In one move, he ripped the wings from him, as I crawled toward them.
He kneeled beside Dax and pressed his hands onto his chest, each pump punctuated by a word.
“Stubborn. Protectorate. Brat.” Ryker hissed, as his own soaked frame trembled from the cold. He hadn’t even had time to use his powers on himself. “You. Do. Not. Die. Under. My. Watch.”
Nothing.
Only Ryker’s determined thrusts moved him, Dax now a puppet.
Tears stung my eyes, but I refused to acknowledge them.
Dax couldn’t die so there was no need for me to cry.
He couldn’t die.
He couldn’t.
No Protectorate chant or wind could help me now.
“I need to use my power,” Ryker said.
Not a question.
Not a request.
