The Weaver's Source

Chapter 108

"He still uses the Weavers." I murmured thickly, feeling a little sick as I saw Grigore.

He was in the centre, kneeling with Ursus away from him, as a tall man, sleek and blond, was approaching him slowly. My magic was screaming. He needed it. He needed me. I was about to cry to Lillith to get me to him but she was already reacting.

She leapt from the wall, leaping over the broken stairs, and landed lightly below. Some dead saw us and drew their weapons slowly but they crumpled into a heap when Lillith charged passed them and whipped her long tail at them, touching them lightly enough to absorb the magic holding them together.

She stopped right in front of Sorin, turning to face him down with her bright eyes and whistled softly. I paid no attention to the real face of Sorin, barely noticing the thin scar on his cheek, the cold icy eyes or grey bloodied face. The moment I saw Grigore, how much he appeared as the image I feared, I felt desperation to reach for him and hold him. Lillith felt my needs and the warm bark surrounding my legs loosened, letting me slip free while she shielded us.

I collapsed to my knees while Grigore scowled beneath the black congealing blood on his face. I saw a wound on his cheek, gaping and raw and not healing. There were even more on his body. A slash over his chest, holes in his arms and an ugly burn on his thigh. Sorin had done some major damage to my Weaver.

"You're running out of magic." I breathed fearfully, trying desperately to hide the tremor in my body.

"You're not meant to be here." Grigore hissed lividly, his magic coiling in fury, black and stormy. "I made you stay behind so you'd be safe, Lyra."

"And you know full well you can't take on Sorin without me backing you. I'm your only source of magic now and Sorin has his flask and undead." I snapped, my fury burning brightly with my fear and exasperation. "You should never have left me."

Grigore scowled, trying not to show the pain it caused him. "Sorin is mine to kill, Lyra, and I can't risk you."

"I am your Source. You have no choice." I replied firmly and flinched when a ball of fire and heat hit Lillith.

I turned sharply, shielding my face and Grigore as best I could, as the sylph stood her ground, absorbing the magic and refusing to allow the fire to harm either of us.

Sorin lowered his and bellowed in frustration. "Grigore! Stop being a coward and fight me!"

I ignored him as Grigore bellowed. "Then destroy your minions." Grigore snapped back. "I came alone to fight you one on one, just like you said."

"The undead are my own magic and capability. If you can't fight them and me then you deserve your death." Sorin retorted as he sent another wave of fire at us, only for it to be absorbed again by Lillith, as the dead began to shuffle forward threateningly.

"I need to feed you, Grigore." I murmured frantically.

I gripped Grigore's hand, pulling off the bloodied glove and clasped his shredded hand in my own, feeling the familiar masculinity and strength there and began to swell my skin with magic. I prayed the magic didn't sent us into a sexual frenzy. Now wasn't the time for it. We had to remain focused. Grigore however clearly thought otherwise when he tugged me forward, bundling me between his legs and slipping his hand into my hair as he claimed my mouth with his fiercely. I sighed with pleasure and relief as his rough kiss, how my magic filled my lips pleasingly, encouraging him to feed with my taste and song. He did so eagerly, coaxing me to part my lips for him as he deepened our kiss roughly, drinking my magic avidly as his strength swelled. The magic swirled through me, growing thickly before it began to slip into Grigore through our kiss and touch.