Page 146 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“Riftkeepers are sworn to protect the Divine Sovereigns. Relationships that go beyond that capacity have always been forbidden.”
Sweet, kind Orla, descended from the closest thing Skalterra had to a pantheon.
Of course she was. She was, after all, spectacular.
And she might be dying.
“Ferrin is preparing to meet with the Second Sentinel leadership in the Obsidian Hall downstairs,” Galahad said. “Tell him what you saw. If Orla’s what I think she is… Well. Tell Ferrin first. He knew his sister best.”
“Right. And her brother?” I glanced sideways at Cade where he continued to try to push through medics to Orla’s side.
Galahad frowned.
“He may be a Sovereign as well, but I’m not sure. Find Ferrin. Tell him to hurry.”
“Hurry?” My heart caught. “Orla’s fine. She’s here now. They’re helping her.”
“Find Ferrin.” Galahad procured a Skal bottle from his belt and sipped at its contents. Energy flowed from him to me and into my back and legs. He beckoned for the guard that had carried Orla to the infirmary. “You there! Take my friend to the Obsidian Hall.”
The guard nodded, and I followed him back the way we’d come. I tried to catch a glimpse of Orla as we exited, but there were too many bodies around her.
“Ma’am?” The guard hesitated ahead of me, and I ripped my gaze away from Orla’s medical team.
“Sorry. I’m coming.”
An entire city hid inside the mountain peak, and I tried to take in as much as I could while the guard led me down stairways that circled the well at the center of the hollow.
The pool of Skal at the bottom was larger than the one that had been in Tulyr. Pale blue light filtered off its surface, illuminating the lava pillars that supported the cavern walls. Dark stalagmites broke the surface of the Skal, and bits of glowing liquid clung to the rocks to make them glitter.
“The Obsidian Hall is through there.” The guard pointed to the large, wooden doors that stood across the pool. A stone path cut through the Skal, and I hurried across it to push through the doors.
They creaked on their hinges, and starlight glittered across the polished black floor. Ferrin stood at the end of a long room with a high ceiling, staring out another open window that looked over the same low-hanging clouds I could see from the infirmary.
He turned to look at me in surprise. Dirt and blood smudged his face, and he was in the same tattered clothing he’d been traveling in. He hadn’t had the chance to clean up yet.
“Wren?” His brow creased with worry. “You made it. Where’s Orla? Is she—”
“She’s hurt.” I twisted my hands together. “She took an arrow straight through her chest, but she’s upstairs, and they’re helping her but—”
I broke off, shaking my head.
If Orla died, I would never forgive myself.
Ferrin crossed the polished floor to meet me, concern etched in every line on his face. He put sturdy hands on my shoulders.
“Tell me she’s going to be okay.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Galahad told me to tell you to hurry. It’s my fault, Ferrin. She did it to save me.”
I couldn’t help the sting in my eyes, and Ferrin pulled me into a hug.
“It’s not your fault,” he insisted. “Orla is— well, she’s Orla, and she’d do anything for her friends. But we made it. That’s all that matters.”
I shook in his arms, finally letting myself feel the fear of losing Orla. This might be my last night in Skalterra now that we’d made it to the Second Sentinel, but I wasn’t sure how I could go on living in Keldori if I knew Orla was gone.
Both our worlds would be darker without her.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
