Seraphine’s Escape
As the swirling portal closed behind Seraphine and Eira, the forest seemed to hold its breath. The faint glow of the shattered artifact’s remains cast eerie shadows on the faces of those left behind. The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves as the aftermath of the explosion settled.
Eryon crouched near Lyra, his wolf form partially retracted, his amber eyes wide with a mix of guilt and despair. “Lyra…” he whispered, his voice cracking. His hand hovered above her shoulder, trembling as though he feared to touch her.
Adrian cradled Lyra gently, brushing away strands of her silver hair that clung to her damp face. “Lyra, please, open your eyes,” he murmured, his voice raw with emotion. His crimson eyes were uncharacteristically soft, glimmering with unshed tears.
Misery emerged from behind the cover of a broken tree, her blade still drawn, though she made no move to attack. Her sharp crimson gaze swept over the scene, her usual smirk absent. “She just took off like that?” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. “Coward.”
Eryon growled low in his throat, his wolf instincts still prickling with unease. “She’ll be back,” he said, his voice hoarse. “She always comes back.”
Adrian ignored them both, his focus entirely on Lyra. Her breathing was shallow, her body limp. He pressed his fingers to her wrist, checking for her pulse. Relief flickered in his expression as he felt the faint rhythm beneath her skin. “She’s alive,” he said, his voice steady but strained. “But she’s weak.”
Misery sheathed her blade, crossing her arms as she approached cautiously. “We need to move her. If Seraphine had any backup, they’ll be swarming this place soon.”
Eryon stood abruptly, his towering frame tense. “This is all your fault,” he snapped at Adrian, his fangs bared. “You shouldn’t have come near her!”
Adrian’s crimson eyes darkened, but he didn’t rise to the provocation. “I came to save her, which is more than I can say for you,” he retorted, his voice sharp but controlled. “You were too busy letting Seraphine twist your mind.”
The two glared at each other, the tension crackling like electricity. Misery stepped between them, her tone sharp. “Knock it off, both of you. This isn’t the time for a pissing contest.”
Eryon turned away with a growl, his hands clenched into fists. Adrian carefully lifted Lyra into his arms, cradling her against his chest as if she were the most fragile thing in the world. “She needs rest,” he said firmly. “Somewhere safe.”
Misery glanced at the surrounding destruction, her lips curling in distaste. “Then we’d better get moving. I’ll take point.”
Eryon hesitated, his gaze flicking between Lyra and Adrian before reluctantly nodding. “Let’s go.”
As they began their trek back toward Isla and Draven’s stronghold, the forest seemed to watch them, the air thick with tension. Lyra stirred faintly in Adrian’s arms, her voice barely audible. “Don’t… leave me…”
“I’m here,” Adrian whispered, his tone fierce yet gentle. “I’m not going anywhere.”
