Page 66 of Wings of Ash & Flame
“What wasthat?” Dawson stood at the edge of the water.
“I have no fucking idea.” She dug her heels into the sand as if to make a point to her obnoxious pull.
“Pretty sure that’s what we came all this way for. And I have to go swimming in the abyss—at night—to get it,” she hissed through her teeth.
“There has to be another way,” Dawson said, his warrior training kicking in as he assessed every option.
This is madness. There’s no way I’m going down to retrieve that object underwater.Her heartbeat quickened.
She tapped her foot against the ground, the repetitive sound doing nothing to calm the unease twisting inside her. She tried to be logical, to convince herself she could walk away and leave the dancing orb alone.
But logic had ceased to apply the moment she felt that pull.
Still… she didn’t move.
Dread clawed at her insides. Deep down, she knew she had to do this alone. At least Dawson would be here with his magic to help if she ever clawed her way back to the surface. She closed her eyes against the anxiety, which was quickly escalating into panic.
Powerlessness settled on Alaire’s shoulders like dead weight. Her knees buckled.
Her breathing turned shallow. She focused on her breathwork, willing it to calm the panic rising like a high tide.
She hated how her body always did this at the worst moments. For a while, it had seemed her affliction was only triggered by sickness. But in recent years, panic, anxiety, and fear had begun to provoke attacks too.
The sound of her labored breathing thrummed in her ears. She recognized the signs early—the wheezing wasn’t yet heavy and weighted, just a high-pitched whistle.
Alaire shoved a hand into her pocket and pulled out her breathbind reliquary. She removed the cap and pressed it to her lips, fingers fumbling. She held her breath for a few seconds to let the medicine work before tucking it away.
Slowly, the vice around her chest loosened. Her rasping subsided. Her ribs no longer caged her lungs like prisoners.
Although coated in a fine sheen of sweat, her heartbeat returned to normal.
Weariness washed over her. The realization that Dawson had once again seen her weaknesses made her feel exposed, as if her insides had been dumped out for the world to see.
No matter how strong or calculating she was, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t have another attack midway through a battle or trial—but that was a worry for another time.
Going into that lake would not break her. She was stronger than this—stronger than the panic and fear. She just needed to breathe, focus, and take it one step at a time.
Dawson’s feet squished as he walked toward her, glancing at the water before them. “Are you alright?”
Alaire didn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t want to see his pity—or worse, his concern. Her fingers curled into fists at her sides.
“Fine.”
“I couldn’t see another way in or out. If that pull is still insisting you have to go into the water?—”
“Oh, it is.”
“I’ll come with you.” Dawson stepped forward, already tugging at the laces of his boots with sharp, jerky movements. One boot hit the ground, then the other, followed by the hurried peeling away of his socks.
“I don’t think—” Alaire reached out a hand to stop him, but before she could touch him, his toes skimmed the water. An angry hiss split the air. The immaculately still surface churned into a violent boil. Dawson cursed, jerking back as steam rose in thick tendrils. The skin on his feet turned red and raw.
“What the—” He swore through clenched teeth, staggering back until he landed hard on his ass. He huffed, frustration crackling in the air. “Well, that’s just fucking great.”
The pull urged her forward again, coiling tight before yanking hard.
She dug her palms into her eyes, exhaling sharply.
“No way,” Dawson growled, trying to push himself up. “It’s too dangerous. You saw what just happened to me.”
