Blood in the Lungs | Book 2 | Ongoing

III | Broken Promises

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I slip around a tree, thudding footsteps close behind, matching the pounding beat of my heart. The hulking figure of crimson flesh and black eyes sniffs the air as it approaches, following the scent of my blood and sweat as I wheeze through the effects of the venom.

I pause with my back against the wood, the hunter becoming the hunted as I lay in wait, bloody hand curled around my blade.

The demon doesn't get the chance to lunge before I shove the blade into its eye. The creature screeches, stumbling back, falling over the underbrush and taking me with it as I cling to my weapon. We tumble to the ground and I put my weight behind driving the steel further into the demon's skull with a sickening crunch.

A flutter in the air warns me of the movement before it comes and I dive back, barely avoiding the swipe of talons from the other demon that nearly caress my cheek. I roll to my feet, fingers latching onto a rock and—as the creature leaps towards me—I swing. The rock slams into its skull, splitting its skin, and the demon hisses. I give it a moment to recover. I watch it shake its head, right its thoughts, settle its gaze back on its pray. I wait for it, giving it a chance before I grip the rock in two hands and swing it up. Its jaw snaps, becoming dislodged from its head. Teeth fly into the air and the demon falls.

I heave in a breath and straddle the creature to bring the rock down again and again. "Die," I utter through each blow to the demon's head. "You." Another blow that splits its skull. "Ugly." Sizzling blood splatters my cheeks but I pay it no mind. "Fucker." I toss the rock aside and slump, drawing in ragged breaths, my shoulder aching with each shift.

I lean back, tilting my face to the sky with bloody teeth bared. I lift a hand to press it to my shoulder and hiss through my teeth. If I don't cure the venom currently trickling through my bloodstream, I'll die before the sun sets.

But then again, maybe that's a good thing.

I stumble away from the ruined demon, wrench my blade from the other demon's skull, and stagger through the forest.

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I wheeze and fall, scrambling back up, only to fall again. Rocks and sticks and roots and shrubs catch on my boots, trying to slow my movements. But eventually I reach the river.

I dump my pack by the river's edge before staggering into the water, every breath a struggle. I tear my sweater over my head, skin feeling like it's on fire. A cry falls from my lips as I fall to my knees in the icy water, the contrast of it stealing what little breath I've managed to grasp.

Turning my head, I catch a glimpse of the revealed red muscle of my shoulder, blood dripping down my arm to stain the water and drift down with the currant. I bare my teeth and scoop up some water to clean the wound, watching the mix of blood and water run in rivulets along my pale skin, catching on the edge of my glove.

I let out a breath and sit on the edge of the bank. Grasping my bag, I tip out the contents of it. Trembling fingers snag the leather satchel within and I shake out the clinking bottles onto the dirt and grass. I grab the skin of alcohol, tearing out the cork with my teeth before pouring the fiery liquid over the wound without hesitation.

My teeth bite down on my lip, sinking into the skin and causing blood to burst into my mouth. I focus on the metallic tang of it as agony spreads beneath my skin.

I toss the flask back onto the dirt, sucking in lungfuls of cool air, focusing on the wind drying the sweat on my skin, the water that slides around my calves.

Then I grab the glass bottle of crushed Belfine leaves with alcohol and water to trickle over the wound, my jaw working as more pain tremors down my side. The venom burns through me, scorching a path through my veins, but hopefully the Belfine will lessen it. And as I slump back on the damp river's edge, watching the sunlight play with the trees above me, I hope it keeps me alive long enough for me to heal.

Or maybe I don't. Maybe dying here would be a blessing. It trumps living with the guilt that will slowly eat me alive.

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I lurch awake with breaths catching in my throat. I gasp and splutter, rolling onto my side to spit blood, eyes squeezed shut. My fingers sink into the soft soil, the coolness of it seeping through the leather of my gloves. I press my face to the dirt, letting the cloying smell of mud and vegetation calm my breaths and still my mind.

I'm alive. I don't know whether that's a good thing.

You're alive. He's not.

I sit up, glaring into the shadows of the woods as the voices whisper and hiss, reminding me of what I left behind in the Order, the destruction littered in my wake. It's always the same. I make choices and people suffer because of them. Trying to bargain with Jile, selling him my innocence for Dax's survival, only for Dax to be abused anyway. The ambush that lead to Dax's death. The mistakes I made that resulted in Ari's execution.

Maybe this is just who I am; the harbinger of death.

Staggering to my feet, I peel off my ruined clothes and gloves, heedless of my still healing wounds. I wade into the shallow stream, moonlight sparkling on its calm surface. The freezing temperature of it pricks at my bare skin, but I relish in the discomfort, letting it distract me from the widening hole in my chest.

I wash away the build-up of filth from the various struggles I've encountered since entering the Empire. I let the water strip away the mud and blood from escaping the Order and stumbling through the wilds.

My bare fingers trail along the various scars, my body a map of old wounds. Some are from countless fights, telling a tale of a life without luxury. But other scars, the precise ones, even and neat, they tell a different story. They speak of lessons bathed in blood, lessons that have saved me more times than I'm willing to admit.

But still, nothing my brother taught me helped save the people I foolishly let close to me.

I'm beginning to accept that my brother was right. Love gets people killed. He just neglected to mention it's not me who dies.

Fingers rising, I touch the necklace around my throat, the orange Blaze rock warm where the rest of me is cold.

And now I have to live with the weight of what I let happen.

I tilt my face back to blink up at the night sky, tears wetting my lashes, making the stars blur together.

I have to live with it, but I don't know how. I don't know if I have the strength to even try.

You need to remember the good that you can accomplish with the power gifted to you.

The words are a soft murmur against my ears, contrasting the harsh whispers that grate at me.

"You're talking about the fire," I whisper, the words tumbling from my lips before I even have a chance to think about them.

Azura.

My lip wobbles and I wrap my fist around the necklace, the stone biting into my palm. "Promise me, Ari," I continue, my voice trembling. "Promise me you'll leave this place."

For a moment, there's only silence. The voices that walk with me hush, the breeze shudders to a halt, the forest stops singing its song, holding its breath.

Then it comes, a whisper filled with more emotion than a ghost has any right to.

I promise.

My face twists and I lift my hands, burying my features behind my palms so the world doesn't have to see me weep.

Everything would be different if he'd kept his promise and forgotten about me; the girl broken into so many pieces she doesn't even know which parts to pick up.