That night, Auryn drifted in and out of sleep. Her nerves were too raw to allow for dreaming. In just three days, she would walk the Path of Fire, a holy route through all the Districts to prepare for the Rite of Judgment. Builders and Crafters had been working tirelessly for months to modify cobblestones leading through each District, ripping out gold stones and replacing them with crimson tile. Large pillars had been constructed to hold wide braziers, connected with metal and magic to a plate at the base. Once she reached each pillar, she needed to touch it with her hand to light the flame at the top.
A simple task, yet Auryn couldn’t shake the feeling that something wouldn’t go as planned.
As daylight crept through the heavy crimson curtains in the chamber, a familiar hand brushed her cheek and stroked her hair. Auryn smiled, her body relaxing, waves of peace radiating outward from Kailorien’s gentle fingers.
“I hope you slept well,” she said, leaning into his touch. “I must have been tossing and turning. Forgive me. I have much on my mind.”
He didn’t reply, and her smile deepened. Kailorien often reached for her even in sleep, as though the Bond called to him when she needed him most.
“The meeting with Shu’Khan wasn’t a victory,” she mused, “but it wasn’t defeat. I won’t see it as such.” She shifted until her back pressed against his front. His body heat cocooned her in warmth.
You are stubborn. But so is the Sovereign Flame. His eyes saw straight through your courageous facade.
The rune’s rumbling voice slid into her thoughts as it always did — constant, inevitable. She had learned to ignore it the way one ignores the ache of an old scar. Reaching up, she twined her fingers with Kailorien’s and brought them to her lips, kissing his knuckles. He pulled her against him in a tight embrace, his scent comforting in moments when Vargrún refused to stay quiet.
She sighed.
“I should prepare for the day. There is still much to be done before the Path of Fire.” She made a bitter sound. “Naturally, the Council planned for this. Holding a ceremony of this grandeur during the Cycle of Fire is Sevrion’s personal touch. I need to walk the path. Stabilize the webs. With the heat in full swing, it will interfere with any magic cast that day.”
Kailorien shifted, his lips pressing against her ear. He took a deep breath, as he so often did when he wanted to surround himself with her scent.
“Emberling,” he murmured. “Your eyes are brighter than I imagined them. And your skin…so warm…so soft…”
Auryn’s blood turned to ice. Cold sweat broke out across her body. The hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end, and gooseflesh covered her arms and legs.
She surged upwards, ripping herself from Kailorien’s embrace and slamming her back to the headboard in her haste to turn around and face him. Kailorien sat at her side, bare to the waist, every one of his runes glowing crimson. His head tilted just so, black bangs falling forward across his brow, his lips curved in that almost-smile she knew better than her own breath — except the eyes.
His eyes werered.
She tried to speak, but no words came. No breath to shape them. No thought to order them.
Those fierce red eyes crinkled at the corners, slitted pupils contracting as his gaze narrowed in on her.
“Do you know how long I have waited?”His voice was Kailorien’s timbre, but threaded with something jagged, alien.“How long I have stared through his gaze, craving the moment he would bring me close enough to see you like this?”
Her lips parted, but still nothing came.
Even when she tried to whisper his name. Call for him. Beg for him.
Her throat seized. Tightened so much she could hardly rasp out a reedy sound of distress.
She called to him in the Bond.
Kail. Kail. Answer me…please…Kail!
Silence. Nothing. Not muffled. Not faint. Justgone.
Panic clawedthrough her chest, ravaging her lungs. She raised her palms. Silver light coalesced at her fingertips, then sputtered and died.
No.
No. No. No.
She couldn’t fight him—she couldn’t riskhurtinghim.
Answer me! Kail! Kailorien!
Vargrún leaned closer, crowding her back against the headboard. She inhaled a jagged breath as one of his fingers twined a strand of her hair.
