Page 44 of Scorched By Fate

I caught her eyes again.

“Please,” she begged softly, her voice cracking under the force of what should have been louder words. “Please, help me. Save me from these monsters.”

SEVENTEEN

SELENE

I tightened my grip on the woman's arm as her knees faltered, pulling her upright as the unstable ground shifted beneath us. Tiny cracks webbed across the ridge, sulfuric steam hissing erratically through stone. One wrong step and we wouldn’t just fall—we’d vanish into volcanic hell.

Her fingers clung to me like a lifeline, trembling so violently I thought she might hurt herself. She wasn’t just scared—she was unraveling. Her breath came shallow and unsteady, each gasp sharp enough to punch holes in her control. But I didn’t let go.

“Hey!” I snapped, keeping my voice low but firm. “Eyes on me. You’re okay—I’m not going to let anything happen to you, alright? We’re getting out of this.”

A low, guttural roar erupted from higher up the ridge, rattling the heat-laden air around us. The sound froze her, her whole body tensing as she flinched hard into my side. I didn’t have to look to know where the fight was coming from. I trusted Vyne. I knew he wouldn’t let the bastard get anywhere near us—but she didn't.

“It’s okay,” I murmured, shifting my grip so I could keep her closer, steadier. “I need you to breathe. Deep and slow. Focus on my voice.”

Her whimper broke my momentum. It was a quiet, splintered sound full of something I recognized far too well—panic that didn’t just come from this one moment. This wasn’t fear of an immediate threat. This was someone who’d been living on edge for far too long, stripped bare by circumstance.

How was she here? There weren't supposed to be any humans on Volcaryth outside of my people back in Scalvaris. I wanted to ask, but she wasn't in any place to answer. Not yet.

“Come on. One step at a time. Don’t look back.” I spoke with layers of calm I didn’t feel, keeping it steady as the adrenaline clawed at my chest.

She stumbled, legs folding mid-step. My arm shot out, snapping around her waist to keep her upright. She gasped, her breath hitting like broken glass, but she didn’t try to resist when I steadied her again.

“Deep breaths,” I said, a little softer now. “You're doing fine. Just keep your feet—steady now.”

Her knuckles were bloodied, her fingers curling against me so tightly it felt like she’d carved grooves into my side. Too strong for her to be completely powerless, but too desperate for it to matter. She wasn’t thinking anymore; she was surviving on raw instinct, and I had to be enough for both of us.

Every inch we covered rattled underfoot. Tiny fragments of volcanic stone scattered with each shifting step. The ground hissed beneath us, not quite stable but stable enough. I kept us moving, slow and steady, even when my muscles barked protest. There wasn’t another choice—not if we wanted to live.

I let out a slow breath as the ridge sloped downward into smoother terrain. “Okay,” I murmured, more to myself than her,though she clung tighter in response. “We’re getting there. Just a little farther.”

Her head shook, her response staggered and broken. “I … didn’t think anyone …”

Her voice cracked into silence. Her whole body jolted against me when another echoing roar rippled through the air, closer this time.

Her trembling grew fiercer, her voice trembling loose again in barely audible fragments. “… anyone would come.”

The words, slurred and barely there, hit somewhere I couldn’t place. My jaw tightened. But this wasn’t the moment—not to process, not to dig deeper. Her survival—oursurvival—had to come first.

“You’re not alone now,” I told her plainly, adjusting my grip as the incline leveled out into an uneven path along the ridge’s edge. My boots skidded, but I dug in to steady us both. “Keep moving. We’re almost there.”

I could see the edge of the campsite past an outcropping, and for the first time since we’d started moving, relief crept into my chest.

Just a little farther. We could make it.

The ground leveled out beneath us just as her knees gave way completely. She collapsed where she stood, crumpling back against the blackened rock. Her thin shoulders heaved with each gulp of air, trembling as though even breathing was a battle she wasn’t sure she could win.

I crouched in front of her, keeping a firm hand on her shoulder to hold her steady, grounded. “You’re safe,” I told her, my own breath pushing hard through my lungs. “Do you hear me? We’re safe for now. Breathe.” A pause. “In through your nose—slow. I need you to slow it down.”

Her bloodshot eyes, wide and panicked, snapped to mine. They searched me wildly as if looking for any crack in mycomposure that might justify her spiraling fear. I didn’t give her one. I stayed rock-solid in front of her, forcing calm into my voice where my muscles only screamed for rest.

She nodded shakily and dragged an uneven breath through her nose. It hitched but didn’t spiral right away. Promising. The next breath was a bit steadier, though still a far cry from ideal.

“Good,” I said, my voice lowering into something soothing, steady. “Keep it up. You’re okay—we’re okay.”

Even as I reassured her, I couldn’t stop my clinical instincts from taking inventory. Up close, she was worse off than I’d realized. Deep bruises shadowed her skin, swelling and discoloration scattered unevenly between deep gashes and ugly scrapes. Her clothes were burnt and torn, as if she’d crawled out of the steam vents themselves.

---