Page 104 of The Blood Rites

She signs something to Morwen, and Morwen’s breathing steadies.

“Please,” Callen says. “Let me help you.”

He rips off a strip of his shirt’s hem and uses it as a crude bandage, pressing it to the back of Morwen’s head to staunch the bleeding.

She flinches at the contact, but then sets her jaw, taking a deep breath.

“We need to move you,” he says. “Get you somewhere safe, somewhere with a bit of cover.”

He looks to me, panic-stricken. “Luceris, help me—”

I don’t move. I don’t know where to put my hands, what wound to press, what lie to offer next.

“There is no safe,” Lyssandra says, her voice flat but melodic. “Let her rest. It will all be over soon.”

She says it as if Morwen’s pain is incidental. Her faith is so absolute it borders on madness. I want to hate her for it. Instead, I am envious of the way she can be so still, so calm, while the world falls apart around us.

Callen ties the bandage around Morwen’s head and helps her lie down. Morwen closes her eyes and curls into herself, suddenly small.

Mist curls in around us, thickening like closing fingers. The light dims as shadows move within the fog.

At the edge of my vision, a pocket of shadow darkens. Vaelis emerges from it, not stepping out so much as assembling, his body gathering itself from the dark in a way that turns my stomach.

He stands a few paces away, arms folded, eyes clinical. “The Fireborn are coming,” he says with brisk indifference. “Circling round towards you.”

His gaze slides over Morwen’s bloody bandage, over her sleeping body, then stops on Callen. “If you plan to run, you should do so now.”

Callen’s voice is serrated. “Why warn us? Wouldn’t it be easier to let them kill us and end the trial?”

Vaelis blinks, like the question bores him. “Atheron has slipped from the Prince’s hands. The Prince is now occupied dealing with Rask.”

He looks to me. “Nyxen is injured. I must return to the Prince’s side. Atheron and his dogs are coming here to cull the Lightborn. He announced as much, loudly.”

He lets the words hang in the air, then adds, “He’s coming for you, Luceris.”

“Is Kael hurt?” I blurt out.

Vaelis shakes his head. “The Prince is fine. Preoccupied. Do not rely on his help; he is not in the habit of saving the weak.”

It shouldn’t hurt, but it does.

Alaris pushes himself to his feet with a grunt. His face is pale and splotchy, but a new determination shines in his eyes.

“I’m not hiding anymore,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “Not after what happened to Fen. And Sorin.”

Vaelis studies Alaris with mild disinterest. “Survival is not cowardice. This place demands survival by any means. Dying stupidly, however, is.”

He flicks his gaze back to me. “Make your choices. They will arrive soon.”

He doesn’t wait for a response. Vaelis dissolves into shadow, and the mist closes around the space where he stood.

Marissa stands next to me, her hands balled into fists.

“What do we do?” she whispers, looking up at me.

I want to tell her that everything will work out. I want to tell her that Kael will come, that he will appear out of the dark and save us.

I can’t, so I just stare into the mist. Three glowing points of fire flicker in the distance. The Fireborn are coming.