Soul of Flame (Imdalind Series #4)(101)

Ilyan’s feet slowed as we came to a small alcove, the light from the fire flickering against the rock as well as us. It illuminated the stormy dusk with eerie shadows, and dark slivers of fear.

Ilyan leaned me against a large portion of rubble, the slab of wall slanted just enough that it could support my weight. His hands were soft as he lowered me down, making sure I was stable before he released me.

His fingertips lifted the shards of the shirt and hoodie to reveal the deep gash. I cringed as I saw it, my blood seeping out of large gaping gash as my magic tried to knit it back together before my eyes.

“Oheň z pekla,” Ilyan said, his teeth grinding together as he ran his hand over the injury, coating his already burned palm in my blood. “A cursed blade, one that is meant to kill on contact. Your magic appears to be stronger than it, however. You should survive it.”

I shook my head, although I wasn’t quite sure I understood. A cursed blade sounded much more dangerous than Ilyan was making it sound, and the word ‘should’ was anything other than calming.

Especially given where we were.

I bit my lip as he carefully placed what was left of the hoodie back over my stomach, leaving his hand against the gash in my skin underneath.

“Can you stand?” he asked, his palm still flat against the open wound as he pushed his magic into it.

“Yeah.” I nodded my head as I let Ilyan pull me up. My stomach felt like it was being torn apart, the open wound pulsing angrily as I stretched it in ways I knew I shouldn’t be.

I wanted to lie down and sleep, not stand and fight, but it wasn’t like I had much of a choice.

I could hear Ilyan tracking everyone’s movements in his own mind. I could feel Edmund as he ran right toward us. I could sense the fear in Ilyan’s mind, the desperation to end this. I could also hear his fear that I was injured, that I wasn’t strong enough to fight. I was little more than a sitting duck with my hunter steps away, his gun already drawn.

I leaned against the wall behind me as I tried to find my strength, Ilyan’s arm wrapping around my back as he supported me. I gasped at the pressure, the pain leaving as Ilyan held me. I looked into the golden blue of his eyes, the light so bright that I almost forgot that we were being pursued. I forgot that we were moments away from death.

I forgot that I had failed.

“I love you, my Joclyn,” Ilyan whispered, tears building in his eyes as he reached up to press against my face, his touch soft and gentle. I cried alongside him, my heartbeat racing.

I heard the words, knew of their truth, but I also felt the words behind them, heard the pained goodbye that screamed from Ilyan’s heart.

“I love you, my Ilyan,” I said, my voice breaking, and he smiled, his joy a bright light behind his pain.

He moved closer to me, his lips brushing against mine before he stopped, his heartbeat fluttering so fast that my own froze in confusion.

Ilyan moved away from me, the image of the sight flashing through his mind: the broken image of Ilyan holding me against the wall as the abbey burned and we cried in each other’s arms. I replayed the sight of the moment we had shared, letting it flash through me as he dwelled on it, as his fear peaked. I knew at once what he had seen; I knew what was wrong.

“This is the wrong wall,” I gasped. Ilyan’s head whipped around as he searched for the right wall, his mind moving fast as he tried to place sense against what had just happened.

“This is wrong. The sight… it’s wrong.” His deep voice affected me more than I would have assumed. My father’s warning was loud and angry in my ears. The sight had been broken, and now nothing was seen; nothing was guaranteed. My Drak magic heated me as it affirmed this, the power of the realization scaring me.

“I can’t beat him,” I said just as the screams of the Trpaslíks who descended on us reached my ears, Edmund’s roar of anger rippling through them.

They were coming, the sounds warning us of how little time we had left.

“I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what is going to happen now,” Ilyan said, his fear at his lack of knowledge startling.

This whole fight, all of Ilyan’s life, had relied on that one sight, and now we stood on the wrong wall with everything shattered before us.

I felt Ilyan’s determination—his readiness to die for me—but today was not my day to die, nor was it Ilyan’s. I would see to that.

“I’m going to get us out of here!”

“How, Jolcyn? A Stutter could kill you right now.”

“It’ll be okay.” I yelled the words over the rumble of fire and thunder that moved over us, the screams for blood mixing in with them until they broke through the thunder.

The vision from the sight I had a few minutes ago broke through me, my magic screaming at me, telling me what to do.

“Take the fire,” I repeated the words from my sight as I held Ilyan against me, my blood burning as the lightning shot through it in answer.

My spine straightened as my magic sped through me, the trapped energy ready to do what the earth had designed it for.

Destroy.

My eyes shot to Ilyan’s as he looked down at me in confusion, a wide smile spreading over my lips as I stretched onto the tips of my toes, my breath running over his lips as I extended up to meet them.

I could hear the screams of our pursuers and felt the rumble of the earth. I saw the battle as the others screamed, and I knew we needed to get there, knew I didn’t have another choice. I was perfectly aware that the destiny everyone had laid out for me was wrong.