"Hah," she huffed, staring down at her chest. Those bloody prints from her fingers were suffused with the rest of her blood. The sword stuck straight through her chest.
"That was for my Goddess," someone breathed behind her. Anastasia. She cursed mentally through the pain. The blade was withdrawn from her chest, and she fell to her knees right next to the Queen's lifeless body. "And this," Anastasia said, sword raising above her head, "is for me."
Her body froze. Eblis coughed on her own blood as the female's dark eyes rolled into the back of her head, and she collapsed to the hard floor as well. The people were silent with shock around them.
Requeza was at her side in seconds, a hand on the blood pouring profusely from her heart. Just like Imillion, she thought, remembering the way the Peregryn had died
"Spymaster, stick with me."
Stay with me, Imillion. It's alright.
Be strong, my child. It'll be fine.
Her own words echoed in her head. She was dying, she could feel it. It was draining from her fingertips. The people crowded around her, hovering, distorting her vision. A panicked whisper spread through the halls, until the world went absolutely silent.
"Spymaster!"
Eblis went blank.
***
Azriel alighted on the ground, his sword swinging through the rib cage of another faebane-bearing faerie. The person gurgled, collapsing.
He was tired, and was tempted to join the male on the ground for a long nap.
When he turned back to the skies, his chest bobbing with his heavy breaths, he found a group of attors diving for him. His magic pulsed out weakly, hindering them but not stopping as they raised their vambraces and broke through his shields. Their swords raised, aiming for him.
Unexpectedly, their wings flared out at the last second, halting their nose-dive. He recognized the maneuver, and he simply watched as the bloodlust in their eyes shifted to something like fear. Azriel looked behind himself, finding nothing, and when he turned back to the attors, they were flying away.
Them, and every other soldier on the battlefield.
His heart stuttered with relief. Eblis had done it in the knick of time.
Despite his weariness, hope filled his chest, and he took flight to sweep among the scattered and confused Illyrian forces in the sky. He corralled them with his mind, and Cassian, doing the same but with his words, met him in the center.
They grinned at each other, the strain of battle unraveling from them.
The male's red siphons pulsed dully, his scaled black armor tipped with blood much as he was. There was a moment of shared relief. "She did it."
"She did it," he echoed, and he laughed, clasping arms with his brother.
Cassian pulled his lank, dark hair back into a bun from where it had fallen out, their wings beating amongst the sky. Illyrians began the dive towards the foot soldiers, landing smoothly though many limped or held injuries together.
Cassian nodded his head, down towards the rallying power of night. "Let's talk to the others." He'd scarcely had a chance to talk to them since he'd arrived-besides explaining what had happened with Eblis-before the fighting had begun. He dipped his chin in agreement, and froze.
Power unfurled in his chest, the silence that had settled there cracking open immediately. Bitter night and collapsing darkness filled his lungs, his chest, with the full might of his mate's strength returning to her.
His eyes went to the horizon, something unfurling in his chest. She was alive. She was well.
His wingbeats faltered a second later.
Cassian shouted his name as he lost control completely, all rhythm lost, and he plummeted towards the ground far below.
His gut rose into his heart, and he stared at the sky as all that power went quiet. Not silent, as before, as if a wall had been pulled between them, but quiet. Still.
He gasped, a hand going to his own chest in pain. Instinctively, his magic rose to protect him, and he winnowed away before it was too late. His back clanked against harsh ground a moment later. He listened, hard. His focus went entirely to the mating bond between him and Eblis. And he could not hear her anymore.
A few rigid breaths later, the greatest pain he'd ever felt cracked his chest open. It was not his siphon broken, like it had once before; it was not the arrow through his chest in Hybern, which had plagued him with poison; it was not his hands being burned by his brothers, when he was far too young to have any tolerance.
The mating bond disappeared from his grasp.
He shouted, sitting up as his world became singular very suddenly, even if he hadn't known it to be anything else before. Azriel was gasping, a hand clutching his chest.
"No. No, no, no, no, no!"
Rhysand fell to his knees at his side. His bloodied hands gripped his face, searching his hazel eyes. Behind him, Cassian himself was panting, Feyre's eyes wide. Nesta barked orders from behind them, commanding everyone to get back to work.
"Eblis." Rhysand turned Azriel's attention back to his face. His heart shattered once more at the coldness in the male's face. "What happened to Eblis?"
"She's dead. She's dead. Rhysand, she's dead. I can't feel her anymore." The panic ricocheted across his being. She's dead. She's dead. She's dead.
My mate is dead.
Harshly, more harsh than Azriel could've ever imagined his High Lord towards him, Rhysand dug his nails into his cheek, grounding him. "You need to do something for me."
***
She couldn't hear her own heartbeat in the silence. She'd never realized that she had listened to it, never realized that it was a steady beat in her ears that told her through all the pain and torture that she was alive.
And now it was silent.
And now it was dark.
And now it was painful.
Because as she lay, she was alone with her thoughts. There were so many. They clambered around, shouting in her cotton-stuffed ears. It was all muffled and unsettling. She had a feeling, distantly, that there was a reason she was trying to listen to them, a reason why the silence in her chest bugged her so much.
Eblis spiraled down into herself, trying to parse out what she was thinking.
One thought finally came forward, as if it were braver than the rest.
I am dead.
She remembered suddenly. Like a flash of cold water, she remembered the blade going through her chest before Anastasia's mind was shattered.
She couldn't wait to see everyone.
She couldn't wait to see Mads and Imillion and Asryun and her Kiri and Hakua and Finnigan and all her old shipmates and even her mother. She couldn't wait to greet them, and tell them everything that had happened.
Look, she wanted to say, look what I've done.
But, amidst that pride, there was another warring faction; the one that wanted to go to her friends that were still alive, and tell them what she'd done.
She wanted to tell Rhysand, who's answering drawl would most likely be teasing even if his matching violet eyes twinkled with pride for her.
Tell Cassian, who would offer her a drink and become so drunk himself that she would be all he talked about that night.
Tell Mor, who, despite the icy departure, would hug her fiercely with tears in her eyes.
Tell Feyre, who would hug her and welcome her back, and let her boast until the night was being eclipsed by sun.
Tell Amren and Elain and Nesta, who would listen silently and nod their heads, each smiling for a different reason.
Tell her spies, who would take her out on the town in congratulations and finally unravel from their tight-knit circles.
And her mate.
Her sweet, sweet mate.
In the darkness, his memory was bright and searing-almost like a living thread in her blood. As if from a great distance away, that thread rippled, relaxing and fading. Her mind gave pause. It grew taut.
And from somewhere in her chest, it yanked.
"Stop!" That thread was so tight, she feared it would snap. But it was so warm, and close, and there in a world of darkness that even her own thoughts couldn't pierce.
But it yanked again, pain soaring over her chest.
And again.
And again.
And again.
And it kept going until it was a steady thump in her, until the pain that blossomed in her chest made her breathless.
From somewhere far away, her mate's first and last words through the bond echoed.
Stay.
It was so faint, she thought she'd almost imagined it.
The thread kept on yanking, a rhythmic beat arising.
A heartbeat.
***
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