Chapter 19

  With every beat of her wings, the weight in Calira’s chest grew heavier. Not from exhaustion—though that crept in too, like frost along her veins, but from guilt.

  It was gnawing, burning, undeniable. Despite that Calira didn’t dare look back. She couldn’t. If she did, she feared she might turn around. And that would kill them all.

  The wind screamed against her feathers, but her mind was silent, a ringing absence where River’s presence had always been. Their bond was still there, faint and trembling, like a dying ember. It hadn’t broken. Not yet. But she could feel it flickering, stretching the further she flew.

  Would he survive?

  The question stabbed her over and over, carving cracks through her composure.

  She was supposed to be stronger than this. Wiser. Older than any of them by lifetimes.

  But right now, she felt nothing but fear. And fury. And failure. Below her, the horizon rolled with blurred forests and ruined fields, but none of it registered. All she saw was the memory of River falling. All she heard was the silence that had followed.

  Her wings faltered.

  She dipped lower, altitude dropping with a shuddering gust. Each joint in her body throbbed, her essence stretched thin, tattered from the battle, from the cost of leaving him behind. She couldn’t go on.

  They had made it far enough. For now. They were safe, or as safe as anyone could be in this blighted world. But if she flew another minute, she feared she might disintegrate midair.

  A jagged ridge rose ahead, crowned with a shattered ruin—stone walls collapsed inward, half-swallowed by vines. The place reeked of old magic. Abandoned. Forgotten.

  Perfect.

  With a final push, Calira angled her wings and dove.

  It was time to land, but her control was gone. The grace she usually commanded had scattered with her essence. Her descent was too fast, too steep. She hit the ground hard, skidding through dirt and broken stone. The impact sent Albert, Amalia, Tessa, and Nymeira tumbling from her back like leaves shaken from a storm-struck tree.

  Grunts and groans echoed behind her, but they were alive. That was enough for now.

  Calira shifted, her phoenix form unraveling in a shimmer of gold and flame. She shrank rapidly, collapsing into her original size. Her limbs ached. But she moved, driven by the same fire that always carried her forward.

  Albert and Amalia still lay where they’d landed. Calira rushed to them, heart pounding, exhaustion trailing her like a second skin.

  Albert sat slouched against a jagged stone. His shirt was soaked one side, a large splinter of wood still lodged in his flank. Blood had dried along his ribs, crusted black-red. His face was pale—but calm. Too calm.

  Under normal circumstances, Albert could’ve mended the wound himself. His connection to nature magic was strong. Roots could knit bone. Sap could seal torn flesh. His essence could soothe the pain. But not now.

  He was spent. The cold hollowing him out. Whatever magic he had once commanded was gone, burned away in the chaos they’d barely escaped. All he had left was pain and even that seemed to fade as blood pooled at his side.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Calira dropped to a crouch beside him and pointed to the wound. “You need to get that out. You need help.”

  Albert glanced down, blinked slowly. “Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess.”

  No urgency. No anger. Just the detachment of a man running on borrowed time.

  Calira stayed crouched beside him, but her gaze drifted beyond the wound.

  Her phoenix senses could smell emotions as easily as humans saw light. The air around Albert and Amalia was pungent, choking. Heavy with the stink of guilt, pain, sorrow, and despair. It clung to them like smoke after a fire, thick and unshakable.

  Albert’s grief was silent, buried under layers of shock and fatigue, but it reeked of resignation, like a man who had already accepted too many losses.

  Amalia’s scent was sharper, more volatile. Regret and fury battled beneath her skin, a tempest barely leashed.

  They didn’t speak of it, Calira didn’t need words.

  The silence between them was full of everything they couldn’t say.

  Before Calira could press him, Amalia appeared at her side, her expression sharp with concern. She didn’t speak, not yet. But her gaze was fixed on Albert’s injury, her jaw clenched, her hands already moving to inspect it.

  Behind them, Nymeira limped in a slow circle, hackles still half-raised. Tessa pressed close to Albert’s side, trunk low, as if trying to lend him her strength.

  River had ordered her to flee, even if it broke her, she had obeyed. That was what made it worse. She would have to live with that decision even if she didn’t want to.

  At least they had escaped. But barely. And River… wasn’t here.

  As Calira stood there, unsure of what to do, the absence of sound pressing down like stone, Amalia was already moving. Her hands didn’t shake. She didn’t blink. She knelt beside Albert with the grim purpose of someone who had done this too many times before.

  Albert let out a low groan as Amalia peeled back the fabric around the wound. The wood was still lodged deep in his side, jagged and splintered, coated in blood that had gone dark and sticky. Flesh had begun to swell around it, raw and angry.

  “Hold still,” Amalia said, though her tone suggested she didn’t expect obedience.

  Calira winced as Amalia gripped the base of the wood and pulled.

  Albert’s scream tore through the ruined clearing—guttural and sharp. Blood welled up immediately, a fresh, arterial pulse that spilled over his ribs in vivid red. His fingers dug into the dirt, muscles spasming as the pain overtook him.

  Amalia didn’t flinch.

  She tore a strip of linen from the hem of her own shirt, the fabric, already frayed and filthy, came apart easily. With hands streaked in blood, she pressed the cloth hard against the wound. Albert hissed, sweat beading on his brow as he writhed.

  “Don’t move,” she snapped, pressing harder. “You’ll bleed out.”

  The blood soaked through almost instantly, but she didn’t stop. She adjusted the pressure, fingers working with sharp efficiency. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the flow began to slow, thick and sluggish instead of fast and pulsing.

  Albert was pale now, lips drawn tight, jaw clenched so hard a muscle ticked along the side of his face. But he was breathing. Barely.

  Amalia didn’t look up. Her hands stayed on the wound, stained red to the wrists.

  Calira swallowed, the coppery scent thick in the air, sweat and fear clung to her tongue. The sight shouldn’t have shaken her. She had seen worse. Done worse.

  But this was different. She cared for these people.

  No one spoke much that night. The weight of the day pressed down on them like ash after a fire—choking, smothering. They moved like ghosts through the ruined stone, tending wounds in silence, each lost in their own storm.

  Later, when the world had gone quiet, Calira found herself lying on the crumbled hillside, staring up at the stars.

  Just like she and River had done in Varosha.

  The sky looked the same, but everything beneath it had changed.

  She remembered the first time she had felt River’s touch on her shell—light, curious, reverent. Something inside her had stirred, awakened. His strength, his connection to the world, the way he listened even when no one else did; she had felt drawn to him, not out of duty, but choice.

  For a while, it had been everything she had hoped for. Purpose. Partnership. Joy.

  But now… now she wondered if it had been a mistake.

  If staying unbound in Varosha would have spared her this pain. No grief. No guilt. No burning holewhere his presence had used to reside.

  But she would also have never known friendship. Never known what it meant to belong. And that… that would have been worse. She closed her eyes, the memory of River’s voice echoing in her head.

  I’ll be back, He had said it with such certainty. And she wanted, needed, to believe it.

  So she did. As the stars wheeled overhead, distant and cold, Calira let the memory wrap around her like warmth. For now, that was enough.