Page 18 of Scorched By Fate

The world around us drew quiet, as if Volcaryth itself had decided to hold its breath. Her exhaustion had a gravity of its own, pulling everything close into its orbit, me included.

Her hair brushed against the curve of my wing, barely a whisper, but even that little touch sent my instincts reeling. Every sinew of restraint I held threatened to fray as her scent wrapped around me—smoke, krysfruit, and something sharper, tinged with sadness.

I exhaled through my nose, steady and slow, while my claws curled against the stone beneath us. “We will make it back,” I said, breaking the stillness between us. My voice was rougher than I intended, lower, but steady. “To the healers. To this place. I won't fail you.”

Her head tilted, her cheek brushing the edge of my wing, whether consciously or not I couldn’t tell. She let out a soft, humorless laugh, the kind that didn’t belong to someone who fully believed what they’d just heard. “And what if we do?”

Her question wasn’t meant to challenge. It wasn’t defiant. It was quiet and jagged around the edges like a blade that hadn’t been polished properly.

“You and I don’t fail.” I said it again, slower this time, stronger, hoping she could pull the weight of those words into her chest and carry them with the same intensity I felt.

Selene raised her head just enough to glance at me. The shadows of her exhaustion and stubbornness waged war in her eyes, dark and cutting but too human for her to conceal entirely. For a moment, I could see the soldier in her fighting the medic. The part of her that wanted to move forward, to push and charge and fix, battling the part that had known loss and carried it far longer than anyone deserved.

“That easy, huh?” she said, the faintest flicker of dry humor threading her voice. “Why don’t you package that up for the rest of us mortals?”

I snorted softly—the sound rough and unpolished even to my own ears. “Mortals?” I echoed, the word rolling over my tonguelike there’d been a joke buried in it once. “Hard to believe you think of yourself that way.”

Her brow quirked, a spark of something sharper flashing in her tired gaze. “Oh, don’t worry. You Drakarn don’t let us humans forget where we fall on the food chain.” The corners of her mouth twitched upward, though not quite into the shape of a smile.

That humor was enough to kindle something warmer, brighter than the ache underneath. It was enough to anchor me against the instinct clawing beneath my scales.

“Harrovan isn’t the food chain you need to worry about,” I said, though my tone stayed lighter than the words themselves. “But if it helps, I’ll make sure any predators out there know exactly where they fall.”

Her lips tugged upward a little more, though the weariness in her expression still weighed her features down. “Big talk.”

I leaned back, letting the tilt of my wings shift just so, not enough to pull away but enough to cut the sharp edges of what still lingered between us. “Big claws.”

That earned a small laugh—real but wry, edged with disbelief but unharmed by it. She shook her head but leaned forward again, her breath soft and even as she stared past me.

For a while, neither of us said anything.

Her scent lingered in the alcove, threading through the cool air like a constant reminder of things I had no right to think about. The warmth of her shoulder, so close to brushing mine—and the quiver of her resolve beneath it—snared my focus in a way I hated but couldn’t seem to shake.

No predator worth its fangs ignored what was right in front of them, but this was something else entirely.

I shifted against the stone. The scrape of my claws filled the silence, breaking it just enough without fracturing the fragilecalm that had settled. “We leave at dawn,” I reminded her, my tone softer, less edged now. “Get some rest.”

Selene turned her head a little, her dark eyes cutting upward to meet mine. There was no sharpness in her stare this time—no challenge, no defiance. Just tired steel. And beneath it, something that flickered too faintly to trust the shape of. “Easy for you to say,” she murmured, her lips curling in a sardonic edge. “Pretty sure you Drakarn can fall asleep standing upright.”

I huffed, a sound small and guttural in the back of my throat. “We can. But you’re not Drakarn.”

“No kidding,” she said wryly, pressing her palms into her knees as if preparing to rise. Her glance dropped, and the shadows along her face deepened under the quiet glow of the river’s light. “But seriously—look at me. You think I’m just going to flip myself ‘off’ after this?”

I tilted my head, my wings giving the slightest flick of acknowledgment. “You need to try.” My voice lowered further, rough and honest. “Exhaustion gets you killed. Especially where we’re going.”

Her lips parted, argument at the ready. But her words caught somewhere between her mind and her mouth, and what finally escaped wasn’t anger or sarcasm, just a long, quiet exhale. She leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees, and dragged a tired hand through her hair. “You think I haven’t been trying?”

I made no reply. None was required. The rawness in her voice—quiet as it was—said more than anything I could offer.

The silence stretched between us, softer this time. Not heavy, just steady. Long minutes passed, or maybe only seconds. I didn’t count. I just stayed still, watching her from the corner of my eye while the ache buried beneath my ribs pressed harder with each passing breath.

Finally, Selene rose to her feet, the motion practiced but stiff. The fatigue etched in her posture caught the glow of the distantlight, shadow and glow playing against her every step. She turned just enough to glance over her shoulder, one hand resting on her hip as her other reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“So,” she drawled lightly, the humor barely masking the honesty beneath it, “dawn, huh?”

I smirked—a flicker of warmth that betrayed more than I cared to admit. “At dawn.”

Her brows quirked in response, her lips tilting upward in a humorless smile. She held my gaze just a moment longer before looking away, her jaw tightening as she shifted her weight on her heels.

---