From the Ashes

Chapter 35 ~ At Arm's Length

    Morana screamed at the pain that spasmed from her neck. Warm blood spilled down her chest and panic flooded her mind. The blinding light dimmed and her hand found a leather-wrapped hilt. She shoved against something hard and unyielding, but it wouldn't let go.

    A choked sob of terror escaped her and she grasped her dagger, plunging it into the side of whatever had locked onto her. The roaring of her magic was fading, giving way to unearthly screams of pain. She blinked again, the last of the light fading.

    Her gaze landed on four figures, two completely still while the others were spasming uncontrollably. Their skin was blackened and blistered, blood pooling around them. The screams grew quieter. Another Corrupted Fae fell still, then the last, and there was silence.

    Morana wept again, terror washing her blood cold. The thing still had a hold on her. This was how it would end. Her throat torn out by her enemy, just as her aunt's had been. She closed her eyes, waiting for the end. Waiting for the last moment of pain and the darkness that would follow.

    But it didn't come. The pressure vanished from her throat, then her body. Morana fell to her knees, unable to hold herself up. Her hands flew to her neck and magic seared her skin as she knit the wounds back together. Tears continued to blind her and strangled sobs choked her throat.

    She lowered one hand, grasping around desperately for her dagger. When had she dropped it? Where was it? Where was Tarion's blade? It had vanished from her belt too.

    "Fuck," a low voice growled above her.

    Her whole body quaked and she doubled over, not wanting to see the creature who had spared her. He was likely waiting for a better opportunity to kill her, or he was bringing Astaroth to her?

    She could only pray that Tarion was safe. That he didn't know she'd left and that he wouldn't come after her. Her sobs shifted into panicked coughs and try as she might, she couldn't suck down enough air. She kept gulping, but her lungs constricted, forcing the air back out as soon as it arrived.

    Ash whispered against the ground as the person kneeled in front of her. There was a grunt of pain before a bloodied dagger dropped down in front of her. A hand found her chin. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! Her head was forced up.

    Two hands cupped her face and garnet eyes found hers. "Morana." She grabbed onto his wrists, trying to force his hands away.

    "Let go of me!" She managed to cry. "Let me go!"

    "It's okay. It's all right." The voice had become strangely soothing. His touch didn't leave, but his hands slid down to her shoulders. "Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Morana. I had to get your attention. I'm sorry."

    She sobbed harder until they became suffocating. He still hadn't let her go. Those wicked eyes were still fixed on hers. He was waiting. Waiting until his master arrived and then he'd hand her over. She clawed at his wrists blindly, trying to break free once more.

    "Morana, stop. It's me. It's me!" She shook her head, not breaking off her assault. The hands disappeared, but the relief was short-lived. Arms closed around her, crushing her to that hard body once again. "It's me, Birdie. It's me. Breathe."

    The name jarred her mind, rattling through the nonsensical roaring that filled her head. Birdie. Only one person called her that. Her coughs became hiccups as she tried to ease her hyperventilating enough to truly get a breath down. A warm, familiar scent curled around her, brushing against her senses with an air of relief. Fresh spring water, the earthy scent of clay, and a hint of iron.