“They’re alive,” she said in an ancient voice that echoed through the stone square, “for now.”
Let Her Live
DAEGAL
The future was dark. A thick, black mist hung over everything as I tried to See what was to come. In a twist of cruel irony, the planes were silver no more. Even the ribbons of what was coming were dark, tainted by the broken balance.
Nothing felt right, least of all my body. It was… off. I didn’t know how long I had been here, sifting through paths. All I knew was my magic was keeping me here. Three times, I had tried to leave. Each time, something held me back.
This was new, and new things were never good. Not these days, when darkness and danger were around every corner. Death no longer hid in the shadows. Now it was everywhere. Evil was all around.
I needed to get back. Ryllae needed me. Pulling on my magic, I attempted to leave. Once again, the silver planes refused to release me. What were they trying to tell me?
Bending, I slid my hands down the nearest path. Visions flashed before my eyes, one after another. Blood ran through the streets in Vlarone. I Saw the queen giving orders that would cause the loss of many lives. I heard the cries of desperation from her people, the moans and wails that followed her wherever she went.
Picking up the next ribbon, my consciousness flew to the snowy north, beyond the mountains. The Prince of Darkness and his bride were in trouble. Death and bloodshed surrounded them both. The path they walked was dark.
Something about the new princess caught my eye. Probing further down their future, my brows rose.
“Interesting,” I murmured.
I had never Seen anything like that before.
Intrigued, I went to dive further down that path when the connection that tied me to Ryllae twinged deep within me. It had never felt like this before. In the past, the link between us had been present but… quiet. A steady stillness in my soul.
Now it was strong. Powerful. Unrelenting. Its summons consumed me as visions of the blonde elf with her curling black horns flashed before my eyes.
“I’m coming, Ryllae,” I whispered.
This time, when I tried to leave, the magic did not resist. Letting go of the silver planes, I flung myself back into my body.
* * *
Aching,pulsing, throbbing pain filled me. From my head to my toes, it felt like I had been bundled into a sack, tossed around a few hundred times, and thrown down a hole before being battered within an inch of my life. There wasn’t a single part of me that didn’t hurt. My eyes refused to open, my head throbbed, and my skull felt like someone was repeatedly hammering against it as my entire body protested the idea of moving.
And yet, I couldn’t remain still. I had to move. Something was calling me forward, urging me, drawing me toward it. A flash of light, crimson and silver intertwined, appeared in my field of vision. The beacon of magic shone brightly, beckoning me to it.
Never in my life had I felt anything like this pull. I wastiedto the throbbing light, and it drew me nearer. The closer I got, the stronger it became. Soon, it was all I thought about; all I saw; all I heard. The pain in my body was nothing but a faint beat as I approached the beacon of magic. When it was so close that I could touch it, my eyes finally opened.
“Ryllae!” Her name was a prayer and a plea as it left my lips, and I lurched towards her. My pain was back, but it did not matter. Nothing else mattered. Pulling the Death Elf into my arms, I held her tightly. “No, no, no.”
Pressing a kiss to her forehead, I squeezed her tightly. Rough, uneven rocks lay beneath me, but I didn’t pay them any attention. I didn’t even look around.
The only thing on my mind was the female in my arms.
This couldn’t be happening.
Even when we had rescued Ryllae from Nightstone Prison, she hadn’t looked this bad. My heart ached as I ran my hands over her. Dozens of cuts and scrapes covered her body, and her crimson aura was so weak that instead of being steady, its rhythm was erratic at best.
I had seen auras like this before. Years ago, I had been called to attend the home of a wealthy elven lord in Ocheka. His mother, a Light Elf who had seen nine centuries come and go, was on her deathbed. Her aura had pulsed in this same fashion, coming in and out of focus, moments before she Faded and left this plane of existence entirely.
I couldn’t let that happen to Ryllae. She was mine, even if we hadn’t confirmed it yet.
My heart ached as I took in her injuries. Ryllae’s long blonde hair was matted with red and black blood, her horns were caked in dirt, and her cloak was nowhere to be seen. Her tunic was dirty and worn with travel, sporting several tears that weren’t there before.
But perhaps most worrying of all were her closed eyes and shut lips. There was no spark of life. There wasn’t anything at all.
“No,” I whispered.