Against the Wind

17.2 || Corvin

To widen the distance between himself and Kyril, Corvin edged a step back, roughly drying his tears on his arm. He couldn't tell whether they fell in mourning of something lost or of an emotion still felt, but he wished they'd stop either way. He had to be rational, to keep his distance. That was how he'd survived the past week and he had to carry on. This was a strange, double-edged dream of a nightmare, and it would end soon.

The soft warmth that lingered on his cheek disagreed. So did his burning scars.

I'll always love you. He hissed in a sharp breath, forcing back the lump in his throat. "How did I even get here?" His gaze bounced from one side of the cavern to the other. "Where are we?"

Kyril spread his hands in a theatrical shrug. His small fangs poked out in a tentative grin, as if they couldn't stand being trapped for more than a moment. "I rescued you."

That answered neither question, though Corvin's guesses were believable enough that he saw no use asking again. Much as anxiety twisted his stomach, it wasn't incorrect, not in Kyril's eyes. He had been in danger in that arena, fatally so. Making one ally hadn't made any other mage less eager to see him dead.

He swallowed hard, shoving the thoughts to the back of his mind. They twined too easily with the memory of the night before, of Nyla's stony glare amid the darkness and the horrid taste of blood. Even recalling it dried his voice of any strength. "Where's Meag?"

Another shrug. "Somewhere safe, if she knows what's good for her." Never able to remain still, Kyril's feet tapped a rhythm beneath him, guiding him into a slow, swirling pace. His red, bushy tail flicked out to swish behind him. "I left no beast behind. We fleded, once we had what we came for." His glance was pointed and tinged with mischief.

Corvin's heart dropped like a stone. That awful, metallic sensation flooded his tongue with its full echo, tripping a chill down his spine, except this time his mind provided images of screaming humans in their hoards and mages battling back eager claws and fangs. "You did all that for me?"

Either Kyril didn't detect the fear in his tone or chose to close every ear to it. "Of course." He ventured forward again, stopping short like a barrier stood between them, though his gaze was no less clinging. His furry ears bent, tail dusting the floor beside his feet. "I love you." Yearning swelled within his eyes. "I will do whatever it takes to save you."

Instinct beckoned Corvin's hand to his arm, where it rubbed up and down, skin prickling with exposure. It kept the tears at bay. His fingers snagged on the triplet of scars curving over the thin muscle.

Kyril's attention trailed every gesture; he noticed immediately, and his shoulders sloped, lips pinching. He raked a hand through his russet hair and spun, looking away. "Oh, Corvi," he muttered, "I felt so guilty." He peeked through a ragged wave of locks. "I was so afraid I'd lose you, it nearly broke me."

Emphasis poured through with nearly every word, thickening his voice with emotion. Corvin went stiffer with each one. Kyril had never wanted to settle, never been content to sit and wallow, always pouncing on the next big idea or positive thought to banish any sorrow, but even so he did not appear anything like a broken man. His eyes were bright with their natural sun-kissed-earth shine. The same energy as always thrummed through him. If anything, it doubled within a single moment, eking out as excitement as he whirled again to rush forward.

"But now you have so wonderfully returned to us..." He grinned, bouncing on his heels. "You'll love the progress we've made. It's happening, Corvi. The stage is finally set for our war."

If there was any fight left in Corvin, it trickled out of him then, leaving his bones heavy with an empty, sinking feeling. The sun outside had never felt further away. He slid to the ground, tucking his chin into folded arms as he stared blankly ahead. "Our war," he echoed.