Page 29 of A Sunwoven Ascent

In his mind it felt like dragging frostbitten fingers into flame. Like pulling a black thorn out of flesh that resisted and tore. The cold screamed without sound, lashing against his thoughts, trying to make him doubt, trying to make him remember how it had owned him before.

Cillian pushed back harder.

He felt the darkness blister as it gave way. It was not destroyed, not wholly, but weakened, its edges scorched as it was driven inch by inch from the places it had burrowed into his friend. Still it struck back, desperately reaching for Cillian instead, trying to crawl into him where it had been forced to retreat from Alaric. So he burned hotter. He burned it away.

“Stop, Cillian,” Kaldrek growled.

Strong hands clamped around Cillian’s shoulders and yanked him back. The instant Kaldrek touched him, the light surged, spilling into Kaldrek’s hands as though it had found a new vessel. Kaldrek recoiled with a strangled breath and stumbled backward, catching himself on the bedframe.

Cillian’s hand ripped free from Alaric’s chest. The broken contact hit with brutal force, the light snapping back into him so fast it tore a gasp from his lungs. He staggered, clutching at his sternum, the burn still raging beneath his skin.

Alaric’s scream broke off into a ragged choke. He collapsed back against the mattress, heaving for breath, sweat shining at his temples, his face contorted with pain. Cillian swayed where he stood, claws still half-formed at his fingertips. His fangs throbbed, caught between human and wolf, and his whole body trembled beneath the strain of power too vast to contain.

Evelyne grabbed his face between her hands, frantic, searching his eyes. “Cillian—Cillian, look at me.”

He tried. Gods, he tried. But all he could feel was heat and exhaustion and that awful, hungry song inside him—still begging to be let out.

“Alaric,” Heidara whispered. “Alaric, please wake up.” Holden reached to embrace his sister, but she scowled. “Do not touch me, Holden.”

For a long moment, no one moved. The lodge was filled with the aftermath. With the stink of sweat and tonic. Cillian’s breath came uneven as he clutched his chest, trying to convince his body it was safe, trying to will his claws back into nails, his fangs back into harmless teeth.

Evelyne’s hands stayed on his face. Her eyes flicked over him, then down to his fingers. “Your hands, Cillian.”

He forced himself to blink and regain focus. With effort, his claws began to recede, the sharpness easing, bone and tendon shifting back into place like a reluctant surrender. The ache in his gums remained, but the fangs stopped pushing.

Kaldrek stood a step away, chest rising and falling hard. His eyes were narrowed, his teeth clenched as if he’d just bitten down on lightning. He rolled his shoulder once, as though trying to shake sensation out of it.

Heidara moved slowly to the bedside and leaned in. “Alaric,” she whispered again.

At the sound of her voice, his mouth parted with a low rasp, and a thin ribbon of black mist slipped free, curling upward like smoke.

Evelyne gasped. “Is that—”

“Wait,” Cillian croaked, his throat still raw. “Wait.”

The mist shuddered, as though something within it resisted exposure. It clung to Alaric’s lips for a moment longer, then peeled away in a reluctant strand and dissolved into the air. And at his throat, one of the darker veins, one that had pulsed too near the surface, began to fade. Only slightly. But a small retreat.

Alaric’s eyes opened for one brief moment—rimmed red with exhaustion, but his. Bright blue and human.

His gaze found Heidara first and his lips parted.

“Hei…” he rasped.

“I’m here,” she said instantly, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m here. Don’t go. Just… just stay with me.”

Alaric blinked slowly, as though even that cost him. His eyes shifted, barely, toward Evelyne, then to Cillian.

“I…” he breathed, the word thin as paper.

A broken sound slipped from Evelyne. Beside her, Cillian struggled to stay on his feet.

“Heidara,” Alaric murmured.

“I’m right here,” she said again, her voice breaking.

One last breath shuddered out of him, and then his eyes closed once more. This time it was sleep, not oblivion, the tonics reclaiming him at last. Heidara’s hand hovered over the bandages, trembling, as though she could not trust what might answer if she touched him. Around the room, everyone let go of the breath they had been holding, the sound soft and shaken, relief tangled with surrender.

Then Cillian’s knees gave out.