Page 109 of He Who Ignites The Flame
What could Lucia have left for her that could have her so messed up?
My steps slowed, suddenly innately aware of the way Thalia had been avoiding Barrett all morning. Did it have something to do with him? If so, what? My mind reeled as I continued in search of her, rounding the corner of the building, only to halt and dip back out of sight when I found her leaned back against a tree, head tilted back as she seemed to try and compose herself. Her eyes then fell on a small scrap of fabric in her palm. She closed her fingers around it, and her head fell back against the trunk of the tree once more as she let out a heavy sigh.
The breeze danced through the trees, catching her hair and dragging her scent toward me. My heart twisted at the look in her eyes, so torn by whatever Lucia had dropped in her lap so long after her death. I stilled as another scent reached my nose, so faint, I almost couldn’t smell it. I’d know it anywhere, had become so used to it that it had become something of a sense of home I’d found in my best friend.
The subtle scent of smoky oak. Barrett. I frowned as her eyes fell back to the scrap of fabric, and I stilled at the familiarity.
A part of me doubted she remembered I was the one who had pulled her from the hell of The Pits. We never really talked about it, not in a way that truly mattered, and I honestly didn’t care whether she ever knew. I didn’t need to hear any sort of thank you for what I’d done; I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I couldn’t have left her behind even if I’d tried.
I had nearly written off the scrap of fabric, though, all but forgotten its existence.
I grabbed the female’s arm, her skin slick with sweat and blood, the sight of the scars painting every inch leaving me craving blood in a way I never had. She whipped around to look back at me, her stormy eyes wild, promising a swift, painful death to any who challenged her. I lifted my gaze to the tunnel walls as they trembled, dirt and rocks falling loose and hitting the ground around us. “It’s gonna cave in. We have to get out!”
“No!” she cried out, turning back to look at her friend who had slowed to a near stop further behind us, her back turned. What was she thinking? Why had she turned back? I stilled as a group of fae warriors drew closer, the sound of their bootspounding barely audible over the rumbling of The Pit. I glanced back at Lucia leading the group further up the cave, leaving us behind. She pulled against my hold, her strength waning, arms trembling from the exhaustion that held us all in its clutches. Even my magic was depleted, too weak to call forth so much as a single bloom in this desolate place.
Her friend turned back to us, her hand resting against the wall of the tunnel. A pained smile crept across her face, and my heart stilled. The female pulled harder against my hold to get to her, her pleas turning into screams, but I couldn’t bring myself to release her, could do little but stand there, frozen. Why couldn’t I fucking move?
“Kish! Stop!” she cried out.
I sucked in air as the walls rippled beneath her touch, earth magic winding its way through rock and stone like an earth wyrm, commanding the tunnel to collapse on her and the men pursuing us.
She was gone. In a matter of seconds, she was gone, and she had not only halted our enemy’s pursuit but had taken them out with her.
An agonized scream tore its way from the female I still clung to, echoing through the tunnel as her knees met stone, her eyes latched wholly on the wall of rocks that had devoured her friends. The damp scent of freshly fallen rain poured into my lungs as she cried, the saltiness of her tears overpowering the scent of earth and damp rock, melding with her sorrow so potently, I couldn’t find the words to try and comfort her. I lowered myself beside her, my lips parting to offer her any comfort I could muster, but I stilled as I watched the tattoo inked into her skin start to fade, the inscriptions receding like a creature retreating from a destructive flame.
She tore from my hold and ran for the cave-in, crashing against it with every shred of remaining strength she harbored—as if she might force the stones to unearth her friend, reverse the destruction she’d brought down on herself and the males tailing us. Her sobs filled the tunnel as she sank to her knees, her body wracked with tremors as she cried out, crying for her fallen friend over and over again in a way that I feared might haunt my memories.
“Micah!” Marcus called out. “Come on! This tunnel could come down any minute!”
I nodded to him and shoved to my feet to rush to her side, scooping her into my arms and hurrying after them as the ground quaked beneath my feet, the ceiling collapsing around us until I feared we might not make it out either.
“See she’s taken care of,” I ordered one of the healers as I approached a tent outside of The Pits, the female clutched tightly in my arms.
“At once, sir,” she said, dipping her head.
It took everything in me to release her into the healer’s care, her body still wracked with sobs, quivering as the mountain had. Some strange part of me wanted to tend to her myself, but I forced myself to ease her onto her feet and give her space.
The healer nodded to me, brushing the dust from her white robes as she rose to guide the female to a nearby bed. The female didn’t respond, didn’t say anything didn’t even acknowledge me as she stepped numbly toward the bed.
I turned to look for Lucia, but I froze as something slipped from the female’s pocket, a tattered scrap of fabric that looked as if it had been through Tartarus and back. It landed on the ground, and I frowned as I ducked to pick it up. Her clothes didn’t seem to be falling apart.
“I’ll take that,” Lucia said at my back, startling me, and I sucked in a breath.
“Fates spare me, Lucia. Why do you always sneak up on me like that?” I said, hand pressed to my chest as if to prevent my racing heart from punching out of it.
She snickered and held out her hand. “I’ll see she gets it back.”
44
MICAH
Fall’s chill permeated my Elythian leather armor as Thalia and I patrolled the south sector of Johnstown later that night. Darkling sightings had been few and far between, thank The Fates, and that pattern had continued into our patrol for the night.
I slid a glance at Thalia as she shifted back into her immortal form, the black dust dissipating into the crisp air. Our conversations had been unusual, to say the least, Thalia’s thoughts seeming to linger elsewhere. I wanted to ask, wanted to bring up the box Lucia had left for her, and yet, I couldn’t find the right words, couldn’t find where to begin.
“Spit it out,” Thalia said, and my gaze snapped to her. “I know you’ve been dying to ask.”
“I’m that obvious, huh?” I asked.
