Page 5 of Scorched By Fate

"Since when is it a we?"

I bristled. "I've been training with Mysha since we got here." No need to specify when. To say that me and my fellow humans had made a splash in Scalvaris was an understatement.

Vyne’s head tilted, and I caught a flicker of something almost … soft … in his expression. Wry. Maybe even amused. Then it was gone, locked back behind the hard lines of his face.

“It’ll take time,” he finally said, rolling the list into a loose tube and setting it on his bench. “Some of this is … finicky. The apprentices can handle most of it, but I'll have to tackle this," he pointed to one indecipherable line, "myself.”

“And here I was, thinking you’d have it all ready by yesterday,” I deadpanned, arching a brow.

That ghost-smirk again. Not quite softening, but there. “I’ll have an apprentice get started on what’s available. The rest might take a few days.”

His gaze flicked to me again, sharp and assessing, and heat crept up my neck. Maybe it was just the forge finally getting to me. Yeah, probably that.

“Thank you,” I said, ignoring the tightness in my throat. “Mysha’s not exactly patient. But I’ll pass it on. If she’s not happy, she can fly down here and complain herself.”

That earned a snort—a real one this time. His wings shifted, rustling in the heated air. “I’d like to see her try,” he muttered, then inclined his head toward the doorway. “You should get moving before the heat does more than just flush you pink.”

I jolted and damn it if my cheeks didn't get even pinker.

When I looked up, there was something in his gaze—not exactly indecent, butknowing. Too knowing. Like he’d noticed more than just the heat getting to me. My flushed skin, the way I couldn’t seem to stop glancing at his hands.

Damn those hands.

The last thing I needed was to start imagining what they might feel like against my skin. And the rest of him?

Damn it again.

I cleared my throat, nodded, and turned, getting out of there before I could embarrass myself further. But even walking away,I could feel his stare. His eyes tracked me across the forge, a pressure on my back I didn’t want to think too hard about. I bit the inside of my cheek, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other until I was past the threshold, back in the blessedly cooler tunnels.

I blew out a breath, dragging a hand over my damp forehead. My heart was still hammering, too fast, like I’d just escaped a fight. Except it wasn’t fear driving my pulse. It was something sharper. I didn’t want to name it, but I wasn’t stupid.

A male like Vyne, he pulled you in, even if you fought to stayout.

I didn’t need this. Not now.

I forced my thoughts back on track. Mysha. The list. The illness that had her leaning against the wall earlier like standing upright was too much effort.

By the time I reached the healing caverns, the tension in my chest had eased a little. Whatever had been fighting for my attention in the forge had no place here.

Something had been wrong for days. A tension in the air, a sluggishness in the way some of the healers moved. Mysha had been snapping at apprentices more than usual, rubbing her temples like even the dim cavern light was too much.

The orderly calm I associated with the Drakarn healers, their smooth efficiency, their collected focus, was fractured. Whispers, low and urgent, volleyed over prone bodies. Fabric rustled; muffled gasps and groans filled the air.

I froze just inside the entrance as the picture snapped into focus, sharp and ugly.

Mysha wasn’t the only one sick.

Two other healers lay nearby, sprawled like they’d collapsed mid-step. The strange bruises weren’t faint marks now—they spread dark and web-like across their calves and arms. A few other Drakarn moved through the room, jerky and clumsy, eyesglazed, clawed hands fumbling with supplies they couldn’t seem to manage.

Rachel was crouched over one of the healers, brow furrowed in concentration. Kaiya moved between makeshift tables with frantic energy, her tension leaking out in sharp, tight movements.

“Selene!” Rachel’s head snapped up as soon as I moved farther inside. Her voice was loud, sharp, but controlled enough to cut through the chaos. “Get over here. The shit hit the fan.”

“What the hell happened?” I asked, crouching next to the closest Drakarn, not touching yet, just observing. Their chest barely lifted, shallow breaths that didn't seem to suck in enough air. The bruising was darker, spreading out from their torso. Veins under the scales were raised and angry. Beside them, bandages soaked in a green residue lay useless in a bowl of water that had somehow turned murky.

Rachel shook her head, standing, wiping her hands on her pants as she came closer. “Mysha collapsed just after you left. Then Sharyth and Nyzarin. It’s spreading too fast to track. Symptoms are all over the place—muscle spasms in one, vascular issues in another. And I have no idea what's causing it. Kaiya's been consulting her notes, but we don't knowanything.”

“So the universe is being a bastard again.” It came out harsher than I meant, but I wasn’t there for soft words and handholding.

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