Page 78 of Eluvonia
I can barely stand as they drag me forward, each step another mile of suffering. My body feels like it’s made of glass, fragile, ready to shatter under the weight of it all.
I don’t know how long it takes to reach the wooden pole, but by the time I get there, I can barely feel my legs.
My breath is shallow, the air thick in my lungs as though I’m suffocating under the weight of the crowd’s hatred. They stop me in front of the pole, and I can hear the chain rattling as it’s undone. The sound echoes like a death knell, and the moment it’s removed, I stumble forward, my body shaking under the strain of everything.
The guards shove me against the rough wood, their hands pressing me so hard against it that I can taste the dirt on the pole. My body jerks with the force of it, the rope biting into my wrists, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. The world outside of this moment—of this place—fades away until there’s nothing left but the sound of my ragged breath and the endless jeering of the crowd.
The ropes dig into my skin, and my arms are going numb, but I can’t move, can’t struggle. Every part of me is too tired. My limbs feel like lead, my body like an empty shell. The world presses in, suffocating me from all sides.
The shouting dies down slightly, replaced by a booming voice that cuts through the noise like a blade, clear and cold. “Aeris, Líðr of my son,” the commander’s voice rings out, and my stomach twists. “You have been charged with espionage and aiding the Fae rebellion. Your sentence is public execution by whipping.”
The weight of those words sinks into me, their finality crashing over me like a tidal wave. I try to breathe through the tightness in my chest, but it’s like the air has turned to stone, pressing in, choking me.
The crowd falls into a silence, the kind that feels like they’re all waiting for me to break. To beg, to scream, to do anything but stand there, waiting for it to be over. But I can’t. I don’t have the strength. I’ve been running on fumes for days, maybe longer, and now all I can do is stand here and wait for the punishment that’s been promised to me.
I bow my head, unable to hold it up any longer, and I let my chin fall to my chest. There’s nothing else to do. No more fight in me. My body trembles against the pole, but it’s not from fear anymore. It’s exhaustion. It’s the knowledge thatI’m out of time, out of hope, and nothing is going to stop what’s coming.
The first crack of the whip echoes through the square, and I don’t have time to prepare. The sting of it hits me like a bolt of lightning, searing my back with such force that my whole body jerks, the pain so sharp and intense that it’s all I can do to stay standing. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, but the tears are already there, blurring my vision, running down my face like a river I can’t control.
Another crack, and this time I can’t hold it in. A scream rips from my throat, the sound raw, desperate, like something I don’t even recognize. It feels like the whip is tearing me open, carving me into pieces. The world spins around me, and all I can hear is the whipping, the crowd, the blood pounding in my ears.
I don’t know how many times it happens, how many cracks of the whip it takes before I’m no longer sure of where I am. My body is nothing but pain, raw and exposed. I can feel the blood pouring down my back, soaking into my clothes, mixing with the dirt and the filth of the streets. But none of it matters. The pain, the blood, the screams—they’re all part of the same thing now, and I can’t escape it.
I close my eyes, bowing my head again as my body trembles under the force of it. The crowd is still screaming, their hatred a constant hum in my ears. The world feels distant, as if I’m floating outside of it, unable to feel anything but the pain, unable to process anything except the agony that fills my every breath.
And then, just as I think I can’t take anymore, I hear it. A sound above the chaos. A roar, fierce and primal, ringing out from somewhere in the distance.
A male with massive black wings soars down from the sky, landing with a force that shakes the ground beneath me.
I look up and smile weakly, as relief floods my body.
He came.
Chapter 33
AERIS
The air buzzes with tension, the crowd’s chants morphing into a deafening cacophony. My body is limp, my back throbbing, blood pooling in the wounds carved into my skin. My vision blurs as I cling to what little strength I have left. The commander’s whip cracks again, the sound slicing through the noise. But before it can land, a hand snatches the whip mid-air.
Kaida.
The whip coils around his hand as he yanks it from the commander’s grip, tossing it aside with a snarl. The crowd gasps, some falling silent, others roaring louder in anger. The commander’s eyes blaze with fury, his mouth tightening into a thin line.
“Kaida!” he bellows, his voice carrying over the uproar. “You dare interfere?”
Kaida’s gaze is molten steel, his body taut with barely restrained rage. “I dare when justice is perverted,” he growls. “We found proof that she is innocent.”
The commander straightens his shoulders, brushing dust from his tunic as if unfazed. His movements are precise, calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. “Proof?” he repeats, voice laced with contempt. “Too late for that, son. The crowd has spoken.”
The roar of the onlookers swells, a vicious symphony of hatred.
Kaida steps forward, his wings twitching with restrained fury. “She is myLíðr.You will release her. You tasked me with studying her, and I havenotcompleted that assignment.”
The commander sneers. “Did you really think I put you two together because I needed you towatchher?” His cold, unyielding gaze locks onto Kaida. “Please, son. I made her yourLíðrso you couldkillher.”
A chill lances through me, sinking deep into my bones. But Kaida doesn’t flinch. His body remains taut, shadows curling and writhing at his feet.
“She is a Fae, and I find itdisgustingthat you’ve let this go on for so long.” The commander takes a slow, deliberate step forward, his expression carved from ice. “You have always beensoft,weak—something you no doubt inherited from your mother. Attachment after attachment, saving wounded animals, caring for broken soldiers, taking thegolden princeunder your wing like some sentimental fool.” He shakes his head, his lips curling in disgust. “I saw an opportunity tocrushthat fragile heart of yours. Tobreakyou.”
