Page 207 of Wings of Ash & Flame
Suspicion gnawed at her. The daggers, the portal, the ruby, the Voidshade Sovereign’s supposed return—none of it was coincidence. Nothing since she arrived at Aeris Academy felt coincidental anymore.
A shrill bellow split the air.
“We need to move.” His gaze flicked to her, then away.
They moved through the nebula’s passages, undetected. Alaire kept assessing his every move. He was the one who offered her freedom from Grimstone. The one with files in his office. The one who always spoke in ominous warnings. The onewho wielded fire. And now, the one who came to rescue her. Had he been the one behind everything?
“Almost there,” Professor Ross whispered, eyes focused straight ahead. Alaire kept hers locked on the rear.
The tiniest sliver of hope sparked in her chest. She’d deal with the rest later, when spider-bats weren’t trying to kill her.
A splintering screech pierced the void.
Professor Ross’s head whipped toward her. His eyes widened. “Run!”
A talon speared toward him. He flung bursts of fire to keep the hybrids at bay with one hand while conjuring a flame shield with the other.
The toxin still weakened Alaire’s legs, but she pushed forward, daggers slashing. Theywouldmake it out of here. Her movements were filled with desperation.
From the corner of her eye, she caught the larger bat—the one who’d invaded her mind—watching her. Waiting. Hunger glinting in its eyes.
She flinched as cracked leather brushed her skin.
Professor Ross released a ring of fire, driving the hybrids back. The acrid stench of scorched flesh clawed at her throat, stirring nightmares she wished she could forget—of her people burning, of Starfall. All because of the Voidshade Sovereign.
The professor carved out a path toward her. Alaire closed the distance, ready to fight back-to-back. Her heart pounded like a war drum.
His flames missed some.
Bloodthirsty and feral, a hybrid stepped from the shadows. Alaire and Professor Ross stood poised, weapons drawn—united against a common enemy, for now.
The bat’s movements were a blur, its body camouflaged in darkness. Like a whisper of shadow, it launched itself in fluid, razor-sharp arcs. It plummeted toward them, adjusting itstrajectory with subtle flicks of its wings. Fangs bared, it sliced through the air too fast to follow—much too quick for Professor Ross to react.
The unmistakable sound of tearing flesh echoed in her ears.
Its spear-like wing tip pierced straight through his abdomen. He let out a strangled cry.
The creature retracted its wings with a violent yank, pushing Ross’s slumped body off the tip before licking the remaining blood. It discarded him like trash. Its tongue, long and serpentine, savored the taste. Then, with a low hiss, it locked eyes with Alaire—ravenous. She clutched her stomach. It vanished back into the dark, waiting, watching.
Professor Ross crumpled to the ground, clutching the wound with shaky hands. Blood pooled in a slow ooze, slick and dark against the floor.
Tears streaming, Alaire ran to him, despite the dozens of others lurking nearby. Their black eyes, rimmed with red, gleamed with predatory hunger, yet they didn’t strike—as if commanded to hold back.
Whatever suspicions she carried, he’d still come for her when no one else had. He couldn’t die. Not here. Not like this.
“Professor!” Alaire cried, desperation choking her voice. She knelt, ripping off his suit jacket to staunch the wound. Warm, sticky blood instantly soaked through the fabric. His breathing was ragged—wet and shallow. It wasn’t good, and they both knew it.
One trembling hand reached up to cradle her face. “You look so much like your mother,” he whispered.
Alaire’s jaw went slack. “My… mother?”
“There’s so much I needed to tell you,” he rasped. “I thought we’d have more time.”
“No. Whatever you need to tell me can wait until we get out of here.”
He gave a faint smile, blood staining his teeth. “We both know… I’m not going anywhere. My breaths are numbered. And there is much I must tell you.”
She gently lowered his head to her bent knees, hoping it would ease his choking.
