Page 32 of Ruin of Revenants

Cassia’s chest rose and fell beneath my hand, a reassuring sign. Slowly, slowly, life sank back into her. Her eyes sharpened; her lips regained color. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

Instantly, I could feel the pain radiating in my own chest, an echo of what she’d endured. My vision blurred and I feared I’d collapse.

I ducked behind the gravestone with her, praying the revenants wouldn’t target us.

But we weren’t so fortunate. A wall of shadow slammed against the grave, splitting the stone and forcing us backward. It was faster, swallowing us in its grasp. Either I was too far from Archer’s side, or he’d already lost his hold on his magic, because suddenly, I was no longer invisible to this awful magical darkness. Consumed, I was aware of nothing but cold and blackness and even more pain. The world turned hazy and colorless, shutting out the growing light of dawn and leaving us in something else, something that made me fear death had come to claim us.

My body shook, the cold seeping into my bones, so intense it was like fire melting away flesh and piercing into my marrow, my organs, my very soul. I couldn’t hold back my scream, couldn’t think clearly to focus on my magic. Fire, I thought, my mind wild with desperation. I couldn’t remember why I’d been holding back before. If I wielded my magic, I’d have light and warmth.

And yet, I didn’t have the strength. Not only from healing the female I couldn’t discern in the mass of shadows crawling around and over and through me, but also from the absolute pain paralyzing me.

Mama, I’m sorry, I thought, my mouth filling with the bitterness of blood. Had I bitten into my tongue because of the agony, or was the pain shredding through me, destroying vitals and ruining me from the inside out? In these conditions, my magic would never flare and bring me back to life, would it? I won’t be able to save you. I can’t find a cure.

As abruptly as the shadows had seized me, something else joined me in the darkness. A hand, calloused but deliciously warm, grasped my wrist. Then there was a flash of light, brilliant and shockingly silver. It illuminated Lily’s face, reflecting in her eyes and highlighting her red-gold hair. I caught my gasp of awe and relief as the darkness fell away. My pain, except for what I was cursed with for healing Cassia, vanished as abruptly as it had consumed me. Cassia was on her knees beside me, weeping but alive. I glanced up to find Archer hovering over us, his hand still on my wrist, his jaw tense, and his blade smeared with blood. Lily was at his side, already hunched with exhaustion after the wondrous magic she’d just performed.

“You have to try to save him,” he said, his eyes blazing with determination and the golden light of the rising sun.

I couldn’t form words—wasn’t sure I had an ounce of strength or magic left in my body. But I accepted Archer’s help and rose on unsteady feet.

The graveyard was strewn with beheaded bodies, all the attacking revenants defeated, yet also many dead fae. My eyes burned at the sight.

“Please!” a female was sobbing beside a male sprawled out on the earth, his body spasming with pain. Blood leaked from his mouth, from his chest, from his torso, and from countless other points and injuries I couldn’t discern in a simple glance through his shredded clothes. The side of his neck was torn half-open. They devour flesh and soul.

“Get her out of here,” I ordered Lily, Owen, and Cliff, who had formed a circle around the male as Archer, Cassia, and I approached. I nodded toward the sobbing female.

They helped immediately, holding her firmly yet gently to give me space to work. I could tell immediately this one wouldn’t have the strength to tell me his name, if he even heard us at all. His stare was vacant, probably lost in a haze of pain and blood loss—or perhaps so far gone he was already numb.

Clenching my teeth, I drew on that well of power. The sunlight on my skin gave me hope—if enough could sink into my skin, it could help restore my magic and give me more strength to work with.

But time was short.

The male gasped beneath me as I pressed my already bloody palms to his throat and chest, the most devastating of his wounds. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying to the sun goddess, to the goddess of healing, even to the god of death to hear me and spare this male’s life.

He shuddered. My magic poured into him, warmth and comfort and strength. I just wasn’t sure it was enough.

I could feel skin pulling back together, could sense his heart pumping. But it was pushing more blood from his other wounds, leaching him of life. “Come on,” I muttered beneath my breath. “Help me. Fight with me,” I pleaded with him.

His body had to heal itself with the magic I poured into it. What if he didn’t have enough strength, enough life, enough willpower left?

The more I called on my magic, the more exhaustion and agony clung to me. My muscles shook like I’d been exerting myself for hours. Sweat beaded my brow. Joining with Cassia’s, his pain also became mine—fire in my neck, agony in my abdomen—pain unlike anything I’d ever experienced, searing me with unrelenting fury. My own fire never pained me, couldn’t injure me, but the heat of this reminded me of it, except consuming. Angry. Ruinous.

Slowly but surely, my strength began to fizzle out. I searched for the healing power within me and found nothing left to answer. No, no, I thought, over and over, my eyes burning, my body shaking, and my vision tunneling. I was going to pass out from exertion, going to fail this poor male and the female that I could still hear sobbing and screaming in desperation.

The body beside me startled, the male sitting up. For an instant, wild hope blossomed, making me think I’d performed a miracle. Then his empty gaze locked on mine and he bared his bloodied teeth, snarling and lunging for me.

A flash of silver and his rolling head were the last things I saw before darkness consumed me, my strength finally giving out.

Chapter Seventeen

Archer

The female’s sobs of grief rang in my ears long after Cliff turned our carriage back toward Rainsong. I’d used my magic on her to calm her a little, after she’d watched me sever her beloved’s head from his body. She’d needed that influence to stop screaming, to stop fighting, to stop trying to go to him.

“He’s gone,” the female Isoria had saved, the one who called herself Cassia, had murmured gently. She’d held her distraught companion as she cried and then, after I’d used my magic, she’d escorted her back into town.

The only other survivor, a male with horror and sorrow lingering in his eyes, had dipped into a bow and offered his gratitude in a rough voice, one that matched his haggard appearance. “If there’s anything we can do to be of service…”

I shook my head quickly. “It is the crown’s responsibility to protect you. Please, burn your dead immediately, and warn nearby villages as well. If there’s anything you ever need again, do not hesitate to send word. Our number is small, but we will fight with you.”