Page 68 of Scorched By Fate

I couldn't do this without Vyne. Without my mate.

When I curled in closer, he tucked me under his chin, a fierce tenderness in the gesture. The last remnants of the tension I was carrying started to bleed away.

“We should rest,” he said. “Tomorrow will be … complicated.”

I huffed a wry sound, already imagining the avalanche of tasks waiting. “It’s always complicated. But at least I’ll have you to help me through it.”

My voice was heavy with lingering exhaustion, so the last few words came out tender, almost shy. That was new and startling, but he didn’t seem to mind. He pulled the silks tighter around us, sealing in the comforting weight of this private forge filled only with our mingled breath.

I pressed a final kiss to his scaled neck, letting my eyelids sink shut. Somehow, even amid all the chaos forever swirling in this world, I felt … safe. It was a luxury I barely felt like I deserved.

Sleep claimed me gently as Vyne’s breathing evened out, and my last thought was simple:

Finally, I’d found something worth letting myself fall for.

TWENTY-SEVEN

SELENE

I made my way through rows of stone beds I knew by heart now, each step a reminder of how hard we’d fought to keep the Drakarn here alive. I heard few raspy breaths and more gentle sighs, and my own pulse eased in response. My fingers automatically brushed table edges to check supplies. But something was different this morning. I felt lighter, steadier.

I could see progress.

The Drakarn who’d been near death two days ago were no longer caught in that frantic half-consciousness. Their scales still lacked their full luster, but there was a definite shimmer there—life returning to their bodies. It was enough to flood my chest with cautious hope.

Mysha was sitting, her back propped up by pillows and her hands cupping a steaming mug. She glared at me as I approached, and I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face. If she was feeling well enough to glare, she might actually pull through.

"What mess have you made of my healing caverns, human?" Mysha demanded, setting her mug on her bedside table.

"I think that's a question I should be asking you." I sat at the end of her bed, careful to avoid her legs and tail. "We used vyrathis to aid in healing, but I have no idea why you or the other healers got sick. The illness only affected the healers, as best we can tell." I paused for a moment, but she would want to know. "Three died."

Mysha sneered and hissed. "Damnation. How long have I been ill?"

"About two weeks."

She thought for several moments, reaching for her mug and sipping again before setting it back down. "Healer's Fatigue."

"What?" My fingers itched for a notebook, but I wasn't going to leave when Mysha was giving me answers.

"It's an old illness, and rare. I haven't seen it in my lifetime, but my mentor told me about a spell of it that nearly wiped out Scalvaris a century ago. Remnants of illness lurk in all of us, and in healers, it can mount until it reaches a saturation point and transform into something deadly. It first spreads through the healers, then to anyone who helps, then the rest of the city. Vyrathis is the only known treatment. It gives our bodies a chance to fight the illness. I must have told you before I succumbed." She nodded, satisfied with her deduction.

It wasn't exactly right, but close enough that I saw no reason to contradict her. "Will you tell Rachel and Kaiya about this? If you're up for it?"

She tried to swing her legs off the bed. "I'll be up and tending to the sick. They can find me after."

I placed my hand on her leg. "Maybe tomorrow, elder. Your body needs a bit more healing."

She hissed again, but didn't try to stand. She must have been truly fatigued. I left her to her rest.

I spent the next several minutes making check after check. Supplies? Holding out. Pulses? Steady. Fevers? Seemed to be back under control.

I spotted a large silhouette hovering near the beds in the back. Khorlar. His imposing figure blended into the rock—broad shoulders, dark gray scales, wings folded so tightly against his back he almost vanished into the cavern wall. He might have gone unnoticed if I didn’t catch the glint of light reflecting off his scales.

He didn’t look to me as I approached. Still, I knew he was aware of me; I'd seen his battle instincts firsthand. His wings stayed clamped to his spine, and he stared at a point on the wall like he was trying to memorize every chiseled contour.

“Khorlar?” I kept my voice quiet, not wanting to disturb anyone else who might be sleeping.

He finally glanced my way. His eyes narrowed slightly in acknowledgement. He was silent for an uncomfortable stretch before he answered, “Checking.”

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