Page 124 of Of Blood & Stone

Kharis grabbed her arm. Sylzenya meant to rip herself away, but she stopped as his pleading gaze found hers, black clouds threatening to overtake his vision; Distrathrus’ blood threatening to overrule him.

Estea’s greatest Dynami needed Estea’s greatest Kreena to help him fight.

“Remember,” Sylzenya yelled, grabbing his hand and squeezing tight, “Your life is more than following orders. You can defy Distrathrus.” She gulped, tightening her grip further. “We can defy him together. We’re stronger.”

Kharis’ eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body convulsing and hand squeezing Sylzenya’s so tight she couldn’t stop the yell spilling from her lips.

Finally, he stilled, body slumped to the ground and eyes closed.

His hand slipped through hers.

“Kharis?” Sylzenya whispered, the sudden stillness causing her heart to pump loud in her ears. “Kharis… no, no, no. Please.Oh my gods?—”

“Get up,” a low, grating voice demanded from behind. “Now.”

Heart lurching in her throat, Sylzenya turned. Her power had left her, and now, the three Dynameis were free, surrounding her with glowing swords and harsh stares.

She’d failed.

Two men’s deaths, bleeding from her hands.

“I said,up,” the Dynami shouted.

But everything turned numb, her body unable to comply. Two of the Dynameis grabbed her arms and hoisted her up. No tears fell from her face as Kharis’ body lay on the dusty ground, the root covered in her blood still lodged in his skin.

Her hands had never brought life, always death.

Always, always death.

She didn’t fight as they clamped her wrists in chains?—

A flash of golden light and harsh air whipped across her face.

The cold metal chains dropped from her wrists, the three Dynameis dropping with them. Blood dripped along their necks, vacant eyes staring up at their killer.

Kharis.

He stood over them, breathing heavily, a glowing sword in hand. Sylzenya couldn’t move, her feet rooted to the ground as he turned to meet her gaze. His eyes weren’t clouded black, nor were they glowing gold. They were a deep hazel, tears streaming from them and down his face.

“Sylzenya,” Kharis whispered, his voice scratched and welling with emotion as he dropped the sword, “Where’s Elnok?”

Chapter 29

Time’s Running Out

Throat closing with each breath, Elnok stared into the darkness of the hollow tree.

A dying tree. A dying man. A dying land.

It was familiar—the stench, the dread, the way his heart slowed and breaths fought in and out of his lungs. He wanted out of his clothes. Everything was so feverishly hot, like he was wrapped in a cloth made of flames.

A warm glow, like the torches from Vutror’s castle, slid down the tree’s bark. He could see the dust-paned windows, the thick curtains of his parent’s bedroom, the large oak bed as the guards allowed him to enter.

“Morning, sleepyheads,”he’d said with a wide smile, carrying a cup of rose tea in his mother’s favorite black teacup. “Don’t tell me you both forgot we’d planned to go out to the dried gardens to celebrate Tosh’s birthday today?”

Neither of them moved.

“Mother? Father?”

---