Page 145 of The Shattered Rite

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Then—

To your left. Five paces. He’s breathing.A heavy pause.…But not for long.

Eliryn dropped to her knees. The stone tore at her skin, but she barely felt it. She crawled blindly, shaking.

“Silas?” Her voice was a raw, broken thing.

A breath. Ragged. Wet.

She followed the sound.

Her hands found him by touch alone. Cloth, drenched and heavy. Flesh, trembling violently beneath her palms.

Then—the wound.

She choked on a sob as her hands slid over it. Too deep. Too much blood. She pressed down instinctively. Her hands slipped, unable to find purchase.

“No, no, no, no—” she whispered, words spilling uncontrolled.

His body seized under her touch. She could hear it—the wet rattle of blood in his throat. His lungs were drowning in it.

She bent over him, tears falling freely now. “I’m here, Silas. Please. Stay with me.”

And then—his hand moved.

A brush along her side. So faint she thought she imagined it.

But it was real.

A goodbye.

Her breath broke apart. “Please, don’t—”

One more breath. Shallow. Fragile.

Then none.

Silence.

“Silas?” She whispered his name again, unable to comprehend it. “Silas?”

There was no answer. Only the steady drip of blood pooling beneath them.

“Vaeronth…” Her voice was hollow. Fractured.

I’m here.The dragon’s voice trembled, coiled tight with helpless rage.

He’s gone, Eliryn.

She broke.

Her body folded over Silas’s, forehead pressed to his, tears soaking into his hair as she whispered his name again and again. Her sleeves were soaked. Her knees ached where she knelt in his blood.

And she stayed there.

Long after the breath had left him.

Long after his skin began to cool beneath her hands.

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