Page 88 of Demonic Affliction

Even as the creatures draw closer, Dravik never takes his eyes off me. His thumb brushes over my cheek as he stares down at me like he’s committing every dip and angle of my face to memory—because he probably is.

A vicious snarl breaks out close to my right, and Dravik curls his entire body around mine, taking the full force of the creatures’ attack. All the while, he stares down at me, never wincing, never blinking. It’s like he doesn’t even feel them in this space with me.

Dravik’s body shudders, and I know he is losing the fight. Soon, he will succumb to their attacks, and there will be nothing between the hungry horde and me. Judging by the look on his face, he knows this just as much as I do.

Dravik gazes down at me, his eyes twinkling with deep sadness. “I'm sorry, my heart.” He presses a kiss on my forehead, his lips trembling against my skin. "Forgive me."

Before I have time to realize what he means, Dravik's hands close around my waist, and he throws me. Not gently. Not carefully. He uses every last scrap of strength still left in his body and tosses me clear across the room, away from the pit and the attacking monsters.

I hit the ground hard, and the bone in my forearm gives with a crack loud enough to cut through the chaos. Pain shoots up my arm and spreads through my body in a wave of fiery agony, and I taste copper where I must have bitten my tongue.

But none of that matters. None of that matters at all.

I try to push myself up, but my arm won't take any weight, and I slump back to the ice, my body frozen in pain and horror as I watch Dravik turn to face the oncoming mass.

Dravik straightens to his full height, chest expanding with all the air he can take. The roar that tears out of him fills the entire chamber, powerful enough that every creature within a hundred feet turns its head to him at once.

He's called them on purpose.

They come for him in a wave, snarling, climbing over each other in their hurry to reach him first. He doesn't run. He doesn't blink. He just stands there, a wall of pure determination and rage, waiting for them to close the distance.

At the very last second, his eyes find mine across the distance, through the horror. His perfect lips part as he mouths those two little words again.

“Forgive me.”

Then he turns and throws himself over the edge.

“NO!”

But it’s too late. He’s gone. Just like Dravik planned, the horde follows him into the pit, too bloodthirsty and mindless to sense their impending doom. One after another, they pour over the edge and into the dark, their snaps and shrieks giving way to eerie silence as the abyss swallows them whole.

"Dravik!" The sound that tears out of me doesn't sound human. My entire body explodes with agony as I claw forward across the ice, reaching for my mate even though I know he's already gone. “Please… please don’t be gone. Please… come back…”

For once, the voice in my head is silent, as if the serafyn grasps the great weight of this loss. As if she realizes that I have finally broken.

I collapse at the edge of the pit, sobbing, unable to move. Unable to do anything except stare at the space Dravik used to occupy.

I’m vaguely aware of all the carnage surrounding me. Dagny and her mates, lying bloody and unconscious, scattered across the ice. The torn bodies of Vhalthor’s soldiers, and the piled remains of those horrible creatures. Blood. Death. The air swirling with wind and magic and chaos.

And my heart… my heart is in pieces.

I don’t even care when the Welwig roots come for me. I don’t react when they wind around my limbs or begin inching me toward the pit. I don’t move, or blink, or think to care about what will happen to me next. What’s the point?

There is plenty to live for! Spoon shouts at me. You need to get up! Fight! Run! Let me help you! I can help you!

I open my mouth, releasing a sound much too hollow to be a laugh. How ironic. I don’t want the serafyn’s help. Not now. Not anymore.

The serafyn is screaming at me now, but I’ve stopped listening. The roots pull at my arms, inching me closer to the edge of oblivion. And I welcome it.

I close my eyes, and something hits me hard from the side, breaking me out of the hold of the roots and sending me flying. I hit the ice hard, and my broken arm screams as agony spreads through my system. For a second, all I can do is lie there staring up at the ceiling.

Then I see him.

Cin stands over me, dark energy crackling around him, charging the air with ancient magic that presses against my skin. His mask catches the light pulsing from the Welwig, casting his face in an ominous red hue and adding harsh shadows to his deadly features.

Even now, even like this, he's beautiful.

He rips into the roots with his bare hands, tearing them off my extremities and tossing the remains toward the pit. Once I’m free, he stands with his back to me, his chest heaving, the dark aura around his frame flickering.