The Blessed Curse (The Elder Blood Chronicles Book 4)(19)

Both cats did appear to be ready to attack, but Neph didn’t slow his steps. His hand dropped to the top of Marrow’s head as his other hand pulled back the tent flap and he lightly brushed his fingers through the thick plush fur. “If anything can be done, Marrow. I will do it,” Neph promised quietly as he stepped inside the dark tent.

It took only a breath for his eyes to adjust to the dim light and only a second more for him to spot Valor sitting near the back of the tent with her body cradled in his arms. The knight had wrapped her in his battle stained cloak and was holding her tight against his chest. His head was bowed. Neph couldn’t see the expression on his face, but he could tell the man was sobbing by the way his shoulders silently shook. Crossing silently to where Valor sat, Neph crouched down beside the man and slowly sat cross-legged. He could tell by the stillness of her form that she was dead, but for the Elder Blood that didn’t always mean the end. He needed to see how bad the damage was, but couldn’t even get a glimpse of her flesh with the way Valor had her shrouded and clutched so tightly to him.

“Val,” Neph began softly, his tone as gentle as he could make it. “I want to help, Val, but I need to see her so I know what can be done.”

Valor shook his head slightly in denial and refused to look up from where his face was buried in the filthy cloak. “You will say the same as the rest of them. They say she is dead and she isn’t. She will return. I’ve seen her do it before Neph. I just have to keep faith and pray. She isn’t dead.” Valor’s voice was ragged with grief and by the tone alone, Neph could tell how close he was to snapping.

“Valor, you know I will do anything I can to help her. If you are right and she isn’t dead then it will be easier if I can help mend the body for her to return,” Neph pressed. He knew it was false hope he was feeding Valor, but there was not much else he could do. From the amount of raw magic he had sensed, Jala’s body was likely damaged beyond repair, but he wasn’t sure Valor was stable enough to hear that now. Still he had seen Jala do things no one else would ever have been capable of. He felt a flicker of hope rise in his chest at the thought that Valor could be right, and carefully contained it. He couldn’t allow it to grow in his mind until he saw the body. The disappointment would be too bitter to bear if Valor was wrong.

“If you want to help, Neph, then pray. I tried to tell them that when they tried to take her body. They want to bury her, Neph, and they can’t. She isn’t dead!” Valor’s voice rose as he spoke and he slowly looked up to meet Neph’s eyes. “She isn’t dead, Neph, no matter what she looks like now, or what they say, she isn’t,” he insisted. His blue eyes were bloodshot and Neph could see a faint gleam to them that spoke of madness. “Everything we’ve done. Everything we’ve suffered. It doesn’t end like this, Neph. I won’t let it! We have to have faith.” His words grew slurred as more tears flowed down his face and he shook his head again pulling her body closer to him.

The cloak pulled away as Valor moved her and one pale arm fell limply to the ground. The skin was cracked and burned in places and still glowed faintly with magic deep within her body. Slowly, Neph leaned forward and lifted her hand, examining the rents in the skin. Gold dust drifted slowly down to the dirt below her as he brushed a thumb across the wound. The magic had burned so hotly within her that it had dried the blood in her veins.

It was as he had feared, and no matter what Valor said there was no coming back to this body. With the magic still coursing so strongly through her damaged frame there would be no way to use magic to heal the wounds, and as damaged as she was, her soul would not remain even if Ash himself called it back. His thumb brushed once more across what remained of her hand and he felt his own eyes brimming with tears. He didn’t have the words to explain any of this to Valor without risking what was left of his sanity. Truthfully, he wasn’t too sure about his own state of mind at the moment. He wanted to sob like a child and scream at the same time. They had been so close, a breath from victory, and then fate had stolen her from them.

Leaning forward he carefully tucked her hand back under the cloak and sat back once more. Resting his elbows on his knees, Neph leaned forward and covered his face with his hands. His anger was gone and his pain was fading to despair. He was drained physically, emotionally, and magically, and he simply didn’t care. There was no longer anything worth fighting for and no reason to get back up again. The world was shit and that was that. How could he find the words to save Valor, when he didn’t know how to save himself?