2. Kieran

2

KIERAN

Desperation and denial clawed at my chest as I sprinted back toward Ronan's stubborn ass.

Absolute panic mounted inside of me, the frenzy demanding me to be back by Niz's side— immediately. My chest threatened to explode as anxiety over his state rose within me, fear growing, but I tried to push it to the side. I refused to consider that this situation could result in any possible outcome other than Niz's survival.

From early on I'd felt protective over the wyvern, despite his lethal abilities, and that instinct had only grown. I didn't understand why he hid himself from us—from Ronan especially—but at the moment, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he lived.

While the battle had been pushed back to the edge of the territory, I could still hear it raging in the distance—the scent of blood soaked into the ground beneath my feet and the cries of fury and the clashing of swords filled the air around me. Even if we were victorious in our current battle, I had no doubt that there would be many who wouldn't make it home tonight, on both sides.

Breaking through the heavy brush, I came to a hard stop where Niz had originally lain. The image of his pale skin painted in dark blood and shadows flashed before my eyes, but I forced myself to focus on Ronan.

The Beast Tamer kneeled on the ground, with the tips of his fingers in the pool of dark blood left by our wyvern and a dazed expression covering his face. His hazel eyes were oscillating with so many different emotions—the strongest seeming to be confusion. A strong wave of sympathy for Ronan came over me, and I was only able to imagine the shock that Niz's secret had caused him.

However, I also knew that it was essential we get back to Niz—Ronan's current shock be damned.

Kneeling in front of him, I met his gaze as his lips parted again, only to produce silence. Almost as if confused by his own inability to talk, he ran a hand through his short, blond hair, staining it with the dark blood. As if catching himself, he stopped mid action, hand falling to his side with a heavy sigh.

"Ronan." My voice was hard but infused with compassion, or at least I hoped it came off that way. I reached forward to grab his hand as his gaze searched mine. It was then I realized there was only one way to handle this, and I hoped like hell it was the right way.

"I cannot imagine what you're going through right now—" I began, squeezing his hand in comfort. "How much you're feeling about all of this. I can't begin to understand the bond between the two of you and what it feels like to realize he's been hiding an entire side of himself from you.

"But what I do understand is the fear of losing him—a fear that I know you have. That we both have. Niz is—" My voice caught as I forced the reality of the situation out into the open. I wetted my lips, trying to find a way of phrasing it that wasn't harsh. There was none, so I forced myself to continue, "He's really hurt, Ronan. He may die. The one thing he asked was that you be by his side. He needs you there. He needs you ."

Considering his silence and the way he stared at me, I wondered if he had heard me at all—but then Ronan suddenly straightened to his full height. He nodded sharply, offering a hand to pull me to my feet. Taking the offered hand, he propelled us from the brush and in the direction of the medical center without another word.

That he had heard me and understood the gravity of the situation so quickly stunned me into silence. Ronan was a deeply emotional person, which I found endearing in the way he wore his heart on his sleeve, but it typically led to a little less logic being used in emotionally charged moments. I assumed he would be blinded, consumed , by the thoughts plaguing him.

As we ran, I found it difficult to keep up with his longer gait. Luckily for me, one of the runes that Steele had drawn on me allowed for a level of speed and agility that kept me nipping at Ronan's heels.

Still, I was out of breath as we reached a large, industrial-styled glass and metal building that I knew to be the medical center. Ronan didn't hesitate to push through the entrance as I slipped in behind him, each of us impatient and anxious to find Niz. Upon entering the building, we came to a hard stop, leveled at the sight before us.

The silent lobby I'd seen before was transformed into a hub of chaos. The center was crowded with rows of makeshift cots as the injured were laid out on them, attended by medical staff in navy uniforms. The cries of agony from the patients and shouts of orders from the medical staff left me feeling a surge of dread at all the lives that might be teetering on the edge of existence in this singular moment. The echoes of suffering were loud in my ears, threatening to overwhelm me in an impending wave.

There had to be over thirty individuals in the lobby alone. At one point, Gabe told me there were thousands of fallen within the Rebellion, but that didn't negate the impact of this one attack. These people weren't just a number in the Rebellion— they mattered . What would happen if the entirety of Alfemir came after us? How much loss would we suffer then?

Suddenly, a young woman with crimson blood streaked across her cheek rushed past me, causing me to stumble back in surprise. The end of her sentence rang clearly above the other murmuring voices, "...in hemorrhagic shock. I need a team immediately for the new arrival!"

Her order brought five people running toward a bed where a young man lay writhing in agony. My gaze moved to his leg, blood soaking the table from where the limb was severed above the knee. A scream ripped from his lips as he arched off the cot, the image of his torment-filled expression burning itself into my mind.

"Where are they?" I asked out loud, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in my throat at the gruesome scene, while trying to spot Gabe or Bastian in the crowded space.

"Kieran! Ronan!" Gabe's familiar voice pulled my attention toward the back of the lobby where a series of doors led into the smaller medical rooms available in the back, ones that were normally used for appointments and treatments.

I caught sight of Gabe's large frame filling one of the doors to the far left, his dark hair messy as if he had been running his hand through it repeatedly. Ronan led us forward, and as we entered the crowded, private room, my legs suddenly grew shaky.

The bare walls and white tile floors felt cold and sterile, voices echoing loudly as the medical staff moved back and forth between two patients. The smell of alcohol was pungent throughout, mixing with the scent of the red and black blood that had been spilled. The harsh fluorescent lights showcased blood-covered cots, the viscous liquid running and dripping onto the floors beneath. The only furniture within the space was two beds.

One held Niz, surrounded by medical staff with Bastian by his side, and the other held… Amelia.

Tears pricked my eyes as I fought to push the worry and grief from my mind. No . I didn't have time for that. I had to stay focused on helping them, however I could.

"Ronan, go," I whispered, encouraging him to go to Niz, who lay unconscious—the amount of blood surrounding him causing my heart to beat double time with dread. I knew the medical staff were doing everything they could, but I was terrified it wouldn't be enough, or that we'd taken too long to get him here.

"When should we expect her to wake up?" Steele's hard voice had me looking toward the other table and moving to see Amelia better.

I took a moment to watch, noting that Gabe moved between two tables, helping the healers retrieve any supplies they needed. Somehow, his entire being radiated confidence and surety. Despite the chaos of the environment and the emotions I didn't doubt he felt, the angel still found a way to be the rock for everyone around him. Seeing him like this filled me with strength and reaffirmed that I needed to keep my cool and be strong for those who needed us the most right now.

"How is she?" I asked the lead healer, who stood next to Steele.

He was examining Amelia's injured side, his efficient and skilled hands moving quickly to finish securing her wrappings. Her eyes were closed and her skin chalky in color, but her breathing was even and slow, settling a part of my anxiety over her state. I could feel an aura of strength radiating from her, one that was so innate to her as a person that an injury couldn't even dull it. The way the healer ignored my question didn't escape my notice, but I was willing to bet he was in his own world right now, caring for his patients under extreme pressure and with little time to spare.

"Amelia's strong, she'll be fine. Just fine," Gabe said, appearing next to me, his face filled with a certainty I didn't necessarily share.

Steele didn't react to Gabe's reassuring words, his expression stony and his gaze hyperfocused on Amelia's breathing, as if tracking each one of her inhales and exhales. Gabe's words did a lot to calm me, though, so when a pained groan came from Niz's table, I didn't hesitate to take a step toward him.

Before I could move too far, Steele caught my arm in a gentle, but firm, grasp. A flash of our fight in the kitchen, from the day he grabbed my arm, rolled through my brain, but this felt different. I didn't rip my arm away or tell him to not touch me. Instead, I turned toward him, finding that his silver gaze was zeroed in on me with so much intensity it caused my heart to flutter.

"Steele—"

"Thank you, Kieran."

My eyes widened in surprise, my mouth parting briefly as my brain struggled to find words. "Of course, Steele."

His words of gratitude shocked me, and with the way his brow dipped, as if in deep thought, I had a feeling he hadn't fully expected to say them himself. I swallowed the warmth his words caused within me, trying my best to ignore how good it felt to have a softer moment between us when nearly everything before this had been so wrought with conflict.

"He's not waking up—" One of the attendants growled and I turned in their direction, eyes taking in the heavy set to his shoulders. He ran a hand through his hair as his eyes swept over Niz, the blue orbs widening as his brows rose. His cheeks were flushed as he stammered, "We can't stop the bleeding either, no matter what we use. It's like we can't pierce his skin, and I can't even begin to understand why his blood is black. What…what the hell is this guy?"

Surging toward the table, I trembled as I studied Niz, looking for signs of the vibrancy that normally accompanied the wyvern. His pale skin was tinged blue, and his breathing was even fainter than when I'd walked in mere minutes ago.

My hands shook as I took one of his in mine, relieved it was still warm to the touch. Then, my eyes found Ronan, who looked as if he hadn't even heard the man, his gaze stuck on the wound that ran down one side of Niz's entire body. I couldn't blame him for falling into a stupor, but I had a feeling he was the only one here with enough knowledge on wyverns to help.

"Ronan." My voice was sharp as he lifted his gaze to mine. "We need your help. Please. Why isn't anything working? Do you know anything that could help him?—"

My plea seemed to kickstart his brain, but his voice was almost clinical and distant as he spoke. "The healing potions you're using…they won't work, he'll metabolize them too fast." His head shook as he seemed to come to a bit more. "He needs something stronger."

The healer offered him a panicked look before admitting, "We don't have anything stronger! And if we can't use the potions and we can't close up his wound..." His words teetered off as a tense silence grew between us. I could feel Steele and Gabe just behind me, their warmth on my back as they peered over my shoulder, both clearly having heard what the man said.

"The needle you're trying to use, as well as the binding, isn't suited for his skin."

My hand rose to my chest as it tightened painfully with my fear. Desperation led me to look around the room, as if I would miraculously find something to fix this—to fix him .

"Normally, I wouldn't attempt to heal someone. I tend to…prefer the opposite of healing, as you probably know by now."

Bastian's words left the entire room in shocked silence as we focused on him. I studied his face, finding that despite his controlled expression, his eyes were a deep, grief-filled sapphire. "But…for Nizuss, I will. After all, if he dies, he can't beg me for my friendship, now can he?"

A smile that seemed far more normal for Bastian tilted his lips upward, but the joke seemed like a forced attempt to nullify the palpable distress filling the room. Tears of hope and relief burned my eyes as they bubbled up. The healers moved out of the way and Bastian closed in, examining the extensive wound on Niz's side.

In the time we'd spent together, I had grown used to Bastian using his magic at random times. His power often seemed to act on its own accord, so I had only rarely seen Bastian use it with purpose. Nerves rolled in my stomach, wondering if he had enough control to attempt magic like this. It scared the hell out of me that he was trying to shove all that power into a manageable force, to be finite enough to save Niz's life.

One small error could be fatal.

With a slow wave of his hand over Niz's wound, Bastian's entire body lit up like a lamp was right under his skin. His gaze turned from the sapphire blue to a bright blood-red that seemed to expand until it filled the whites of his eyes completely. His hair turned crimson on the ends, and the veins on his hand darkened to black, as if something was alive and shifting under his skin.

Suddenly, a red orb appeared in his palm and he turned his hand over, gently dropping the orb until it floated right above the gaping wound. I edged closer and watched with nervous anticipation, stomach fluttering and knees weak, as the orb sank into the wound and dispersed like water through the torn muscles and bones until it reached the edges of the raw flesh.

His power appeared to solidify once grabbing hold of the edges of the wound, pulling tightly on the skin, graphing and fusing itself until it perfectly fit the gaping wound. Like fresh flesh, somehow. If it hadn't been so fascinating and amazing to watch, I might have felt a bit sick to my stomach, but instead, I only felt gratitude and awe.

A slight shifting to my left had me looking over to see that at some point, Noah had quietly entered the room and joined us at the table. His eyes were trained studiously on Bastian, his bushy eyebrows raised in surprise.

Looking back at the Caster, I found myself realizing that his magic truly exceeded the realm of normality.