Page 149 of Kingdom of Chaos
“You’re going to make it,” he says, but when I look into his eyes, I see something there I’ve never seen in Talon before.
Fear.
Behind him, I catch sight of Kerrim lifting Shadow Striker into the air. He watches my fresh blood slide down the blade, dripping from the tip.
“Finally,” he murmurs, his own blood staining his skin as a wide, maniacal smile splits his face. He looks like a predator savoring his victory as he watches each red drop fall to the ground.
Talon ignores him, his full focus on me. He keeps the pressure on my wound, whispering that I’m going to be fine, even though we both know it’s a lie.
With what little strength I have left, I lift my hand, fingers trembling as I trail them over Talon’s cheekbone. His eyes lock on to mine, the depth of his pain shining back at me.
“Had to,” I whisper. “A sacrifice. It was the only way.”
Talon shakes his head, clearly not understanding.
“The Vampire King’s love. Only a sacrifice can counteract the blade’s dark magic.”
His eyes widen with sudden sharp understanding, but before he can say anything, Kerrim’s panicked voice breaks through the night, sharp and raw.
“What? No. No!”
A silent gasp leaves my lips as black mist erupts from Shadow Striker. It curls through the air like smoke, only thicker, darker, until it surrounds Kerrim, wrapping around him like writhing tentacles.
He stumbles, swiping at the mist in a panic, but it clings to him, seeping under his skin, sinking into his flesh. His screams tear through the night, raw and desperate, as he tries to bat it away, but it’s no use. The mist pulses, drawing tighter around him, almost as if it’s feeding off his life force. His body convulses, spasming in place. His frantic cries turn to gurgles, then ragged gasps, before they’re gone altogether.
Kerrim collapses to the ground, motionless.
Before the shock of it can fully register, a deafening boom shakes the clearing. A pulse of power erupts from Shadow Striker, still clutched in Kerrim’s lifeless hand.
The blade glows red-hot, then cracks appear before it shatters in a burst of black smoke that spirals upward, twisting and writhing like a living thing. The air vibrates with a terrible, almost feral energy.
It feels . . . ancient. Dangerous. Wrong.
For a second, I think I hear a deep, guttural rumble, like a distant roar carried on the wind. Then the smoke vanishes,unraveling into the night like a shadow melting into deeper darkness.
In the sudden, breathless quiet, I catch sight of something crumpled on the ground near Kerrim’s body.
A figure.
Pale, gaunt, motionless.
His body is skeletal, his eyes sunken; he’s barely breathing, if he’s breathing at all.
A rustle of footsteps breaks the eerie stillness, followed by urgent voices. Imogen, Kade, and the healer, her bag already swinging from her shoulder, burst through the tree line in front of us, breathless and wide-eyed, as if they’ve only just caught up with the aftermath.
“Locklyn!” Imogen’s voice is sharp with alarm as she spots me lying in Talon’s arms.
She skids to a halt, but it’s the healer who moves first, dropping to her knees beside us, already pulling supplies from her bag.
Kade follows, his gaze sweeping over the area, taking in Kerrim’s lifeless form, the shattered remnants of Shadow Striker, and the unknown figure crumpled on the ground.
“Who on earth is that?” he mutters, but there’s no time for answers.
“Help her!” Talon snaps, voice tight, as the healer moves to press gauze against my wound, sending another spike of excruciating pain through me as she works with practiced speed to stem the bleeding.
I catch Imogen’s gaze dart nervously toward the figure lying near Kerrim as Kade turns to stand guard, tense as if ready for whatever this new threat might bring. For now, the crumpled figure is ignored, though none of us can shake the wrongness that clings to the air. It’s like the night itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to shift.
I feel myself slipping away. My eyelids grow heavy, and a gentle force tugs at me, promising peace as it drags me under.
