Page 290 of Emylia

Dead bodies.

Pulling Stormfire to a brutal halt, I flung myself from the saddle, hitting the ground at a run.

I sprinted forward, my boots slipping in the blood-slick grass. Scarlet clung to the blades like dew, beading along the green tips, turning the earth into a battlefield of gore.

I dropped to my knees, a strangled sound tearing from my throat. I couldn’t ignore the motionless bodies of my family scattered across the grass like discarded rubbish—couldn’t block out the all-consuming stench of death saturating the air.

Gritting my teeth, I forced my eyes open, crawling toward one of the tangled shapes collapsed in a heap of bright red chaos.

It was Rebekah.

A lump of dread climbed up my throat, suffocating me. I reached out—shaking so hard it felt like my own body might betray me—but I managed to roll her gently toward me.

One painful second dripped by as I tried to summon the courage to examine her body.

A firm hand clamped down on my shoulder. "You don't have to do this. I can do it for you,"Maalikai said.

It would be so easy to accept his offer.

I didn’t want to look.

I didn’t want to know.

But I had to.

OnlyIcould do this.

My gaze collided with hers.

Chestnut eyes stared up at me—blank, pale, wrong. The color had been stripped from her skin, her freckles practically popping against the ghost-white canvas of death.

Blood soaked her shirt. A gaping slash carved across her throat, so deep and brutal there was no question how her life had been taken.

My mind, trained by years of hunting, recognized it instantly: critical. Instant death.

But my heart... my heart begged for a lie.

Trembling, I pressed two fingers to her neck, praying for anything—a flutter, a heartbeat, a miracle.

Nothing.

No pulse. No breath. No life.

She had died with no one to defend her.

A scream ripped through my chest—silent but deadly—shattering something vital inside me. Hunched over, gasping for air that wouldn’t fill my lungs, I rocked back, the ground swaying beneath me.

I didn’t know which feeling was worse—the devastating, soul-crushing fury, or the kind of sorrow that made me want to curl up and never move again.

But standing there, surrounded by the blood of everyone I loved, I made a silent vow.

I wouldn’t burnnor break—I would not fall without making them pay.

I rose to my feet, breath snagging on the silence. Then I saw it.

Another silhouette.

Another body.

---