Page 88 of Sundered By Fate

He met Malekith's gaze one last time. "I will keep fighting for us. Even if you cannot.”

Malekith’s mouth popped open in a wordless protest. Something working behind his eyes as his jaw shifted. Recognition? Concession? Defeat? Renewed fury?

It mattered not.

Aric would fight for them both.

With a final, desperate cry, Aric's wings enveloped him, golden fire erupting in a blinding torrent. He surged forth in one last burst of energy, ignoring the searing, needling pain along his spine as Malekith’s sigil dug in its claws, as though it meant to hold him back. Sword drawn, wings spreading wide, fire crackling with fury . . .

Malekith lunged for Aric, talons connecting with Aric’s ankle and digging in. Hot points of pain flared bright along Aric’s skin as though it were a venomous strike.

But Malekith was too late to stop him.

The rift screamed like water thrown on a heated stone as Aric’s blade connected with its surface, and then Aric was screaming. Was Malekith shrieking, too? Magic popped and hissed in his ears. The rift's howls were drowned out by a thunderous roar as the divine flames consumed it, and with one last, ragged shriek, the portal began to collapse in on itself.

The fiery hurricane pulled Malekith towards it, his talons still locked around Aric. But as the rift began to swallow him, Aric's wings beat so hard they sent out a shockwave of pressure, throwing them both backward.

Malekith landed with a rough thud that forced him to release Aric. His claws digging into the cobblestones with a bone-rattling crunch, and lay there for a moment, stunned. Aric, too, lay sprawled on the ground, the divine fire ebbing away, leaving nothing but ash and embers in its wake.

In the distance, Aric heard the cries of victory from the human forces, echoing through the broken streets. They had won—the rift was closed, the demons vanquished. But at what cost?

Aric's body felt heavy and hollow, his limbs trembling with exhaustion. The wings retracted into his back with a rush of cold air and then vanished. The sword fell from his hand with a shudder. He felt as though he had been drained of all his essence, every last drop of power wrung out of him.

And yet, as he looked at Malekith lying beside him, a terrible sense of loss and emptiness filled him—a wound that no amount of magic could heal, no amount of battle prowess could fill.

Aric forced himself to his feet. Malekith staggered beside him, his chest heaving, the infernal glamor of battle faded into a dismal wreckage. His horns were cracked, one of his long ears torn, and crimson stained his cheek.

But as the smoke began to clear, Aric's heart froze at the sight of the human forces advancing towards them. A line of armored knights, their blades gleaming in the dim light, and behind them, the archers with their arrows nocked and ready. And Aric was no longer certain if they were friend or foe.

There was a low groan from Malekith as he too saw the human forces approaching. A flicker of uncertain emotion passed over his mangled features, and for a moment, Aric thought he saw the hardened warrior from so long ago—the one who had stormed the outpost and captured Aric, who had tormented and manipulated him, who had laughed in the face of Aric's pain and suffering.

He was not that same demon. Not anymore. And though Aric had sworn to end his hold over him, he could not bear the thought of watching him die.

The line of human soldiers drew closer, their weapons raised. Aric swallowed hard, forcing his limbs to move, to step in front of Malekith, blocking their sights. He knew the odds of surviving against so many were slim, but he would fight with every last breath, every shred of his power, to protect the demon he loved.

The soldiers shouted something, but Aric could not hear them over the roaring in his ears, the thunder of his own heart. He positioned himself between them and Malekith, his own sword a weight in his hand.

"Stand down, Solarian." Lord Regent Valerian, joined by Olaya and Diviandra of the Silver Tower, moved forward from the throng. "We cannot suffer this monster to live."

Twenty-Four

Aric spread his arms, wings of golden flame flaring around him. "No," he shouted, his voice raw and breaking. "Please. I . . . I beg you. You must not harm him."

The assembled forces hesitated, their weapons wavering. Aric felt a surge of hope, a glimmer of a chance. But then Valerian's voice rang out like a curse, shattering it.

"Surrender the demon, Solarian," the Lord Regent said. "Or answer for your treason."

Aric's heart twisted. Malekith was watching him, his eyes filled with something dark and unreadable. Aric couldn't bear to let him down again, to be the cause of his suffering.

"I'll go with you," Aric said, voice cracking. "Just . . . Spare him. Take him prisoner. Take us both. But let him live."

"You would let him kill hundreds of people today, and still spare him?" Valerian’s voice dripped with disgust. "You're even more far gone than I thought."

Aric's fists clenched. "He's not responsible for the demons thatyouunleashed?—"

A collective gasp from the crowd, but Valerian was already dismissing it with a wave of his hand. "Silence your traitoroustongue.Liar." Valerian moved toward him. "Stand aside and let us do what must be done."

"Please . . ."

---