Page 86 of Demonic Affliction

The singular creature from earlier steps nearer to me, raising its gnarly head and releasing an eerie clicking noise. It knows it has me. It knows there is nothing I can do.

Taking a deep breath, I reach up and clutch the locket dangling from my throat. I wish for the comfort it usually provides me, but all I’m met with is the feel of cool metal against my skin, and the realization that soon, I will be joining my parents in the afterlife.

The creature lowers to the ground, spit dripping from its gaping maw as it prepares to lunge—to strike.

“Hey, ugly!”

The creature and I look to the side at the same time to see Vhalthor flying straight at us with a wide, manic smile. His body is wrecked, skin covered in blood, and his wings are shredded, but somehow he’s still flying—and damn fast, too.

“Look out belowww!”

I step to the side just in time for Vhalthor to slam into the side of the creature, and they both go tumbling away from the pit. Ice sprays where they land, and the creature's scream cuts off into a wet gurgle as Vhalthor’s claws penetrate its chest cavity.

He doesn't even get a full moment to breathe before five more come to take the dead creature’s place, closing in on him from every side.

They pile onto him all at once, and instead of screaming, he laughs—a full, booming sound that fills the cavern with a deranged kind of mirth.

He slashes wildly, catching two across the face even as the others sink teeth and claws into his back, arms, anything they can reach. Blood sprays dark across, though it's impossible to tell how much of it belongs to the king versus the monsters. One particularly strong creature grabs his arm and wrenches it backward until his shoulder gives with a wet snap.

He falls beneath the weight of them, collapsing onto his back as they gnaw and tear at what's left of his flesh—and still, Vhalthor laughs.

For one moment, through the gaps between snapping jaws, his eyes find mine. There's no pain in them, no regret or sadness. Just the satisfaction of a warrior dying an honorable death.

He saved me. Threw himself into that creature without a second of hesitation, just to buy me the two seconds I needed, and this is what it's costing him. I did this. I brought everyone here. I killed us all.

I don’t have time to sit with the horrible realization, because at that moment, Dravik’s strong arms sweep me off my feet, and then we’re tearing away from the pit, away from the mass of writhing, snarling bodies as fast as possible. Seeing this, Nyx and Rhune break free of their own attackers, and they make a beeline for the small alcove at the far end of the cavern, attacking and disposing of any creatures that dare to follow them.

Dravik ducks into the alcove, resting with his back to the rock wall, heaving with pain and effort. Blood runs down his chest and arms in thick, steady streams, but his grip around me never wavers. He hugs me against his heart, his entire body shaking like I’m the only thing holding him together.

“My heart… I almost lost you.” His voice is a ragged husk. “If Vhalthor had not managed to get to you in time…”

I open my mouth to respond, but there are no words left in me. Only terror.

A moment later, Nyx and Rhune appear in the tiny alcove, their expression taut with fear and bodies heaving with the strength it takes to keep themselves upright.

“Where are you hurt?” Rhune demands, placing his quivering palm over my racing heart. “Tell me what hurts, pup.”

Without prompt, I feel the warmth of Rhune’s healing magic building beneath my skin. As good as it feels, I force myself to peel his hands away from me.

“Not me. Vhalthor,” I choke out. I pick my head up, gazing past the cover of the rock wall. Every creature that was closing in on me lies dead or dying in a circle of carnage around Vhalthor's body. He isn't moving anymore, and I can't tell if his chest is still rising.

“He… He needs help. I’m fine, just please… help him.”

Rhune and Nyx look over their shoulder where I’m staring, the corners of their mouth tightening as they take in the state of the southern king.

“I will go.” Dravik is already pushing off the rock wall. He stumbles heavily, and Nyx pushes against his shoulder, forcing him back.

“You can hardly stand. Stay here with Willow. Keep her safe. We will go, stabilize his injuries enough to move him, and bring him back here.”

Dravik doesn’t seem very happy with this, but nods his agreement, realizing his physical limitations. “Fine. Be quick.”

Rhune and Nyx break from the alcove and sprint across the ice toward Vhalthor's body at the edge of the pit, dropping to their knees beside him without hesitation. The cavern still shudders, raining destruction from the ceiling, but neither of them pays attention even as giant slabs of ice crash down inches from their battered bodies.

Dagny and her mates continue to fight back the horde, and they’ve managed to thin it considerably, though their strength is waning fast, and the monsters keep flooding from the tree. Still, it allows Nyx and Rhune a few precious minutes to focus on Vhalthor’s injuries.

Deep blue light spills from their palms, pouring into the deep wounds that cover Vhalthor’s body. They’re too numerous to count, closing far too slowly, but Rhune and Nyx carry on, their eyes glowing and locked on the king's pale face. Vhalthor's chest barely rises, but the good news is that it is moving. Blood pools black beneath him on the ice, but that only means his heart is still beating.

Slowly, the wounds thread closed, and the halo of blood ceases to grow. Vhalthor isn’t out of the woods yet, but he is stable. They can move him now.