Page 115 of The Blackened Blade

My panic begins to resurface, my voice sounding more desperate and frantic.

“Zrael? Are you okay? Please…” I hear slight movement. It's slow and light but gets closer until I can hear him against the other-side of the wall.

His breathing sounds weak…and pained.

I rub my chest and the helpless feeling cutting me there. I wish I could help him…What had they even done to him? Was it like what they put me through? A shudder runs down my body with the thought.

“I wish I could help you, or do something for you…” I shake my head, stopping before my voice cracks and shows him how weak I really am.

“Pl…ease…” His voice is so low I have to hold my breath as I place my ear against the wall to hear him.

“What can I do?” I call, placing my hands against the cold cement and wishing with all my might that it wasn’t there so I could go to him. So that I could help him the way his songs had helped me through my pain.

“...ing..” His voice was so low, I struggled to make it out. It was almost like it could fade or disappear at any moment.

“What?” I ask, praying I could hear him more clearly.

“S..ing.”

Sing? He wanted to sing? With the way he was right now?

And then I realised what he meant. He wantedmeto sing. For him.

But my voice wasn’t like his, and I hadn’t had the best experience singing for others. Nobody even liked my voice.

“P..lea..se.” A pained groan follows his broken words, his voice cracking more as his breathing becomes more strained. It pulls me from my insecure thoughts.

Even if I sounded horrible, if that's what he needed and wanted right now, then I could do it.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath before beginning. The first few words are a little shaky and low as I sing my favourite song, Giants by Dermot Kennedy, but gradually I grow in volume as I continue.

I can feel myself slightly swaying as I sing, pouring all the emotions I feel into every word as I grow louder; not even recognizing the strong and powerful voice echoing around the room as I reach the final line.

I’m panting slightly as silence stretches between the two rooms with not even his laboured breathing heard.

I place a shaky hand back against the wall. “Zrael? Zrae–”

“Beau…tiful. So beau...t…iful…Mate.” His voice is still broken and coarse, but sounds less pained with his breathing more steady.

Wait. Did he call me ‘Mate’?

He couldn’t meanthatkind of mate, right?

I mean, we hadn’t even seen each other so how would he even know?

I had heard that with different supernaturals they had different ways of knowing if they were fated mates. Some involved scent or blood, but even then it was so rare.

Had he meant as a friend or companion?

“Mate?” I call, “Do you mean like fri–”

“Fat..ed.” He cuts me off, his voice slighter deeper, a more steady and sure tone with each syllable. “Your voi…ce. I ca…n te…ll. You..r my m…ate, Micai.”

He says my name with such warmth and tender affection, and a clear surety in his tone that leaves no room for compromise, even with his broken voice.

No words leave my lips as my mind tries to process his words. I try to think back to all the times we’ve talked, and the strange and warm feeling that would well up inside me with just hearing his voice. Could it really be possible?

…A mate.

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