Chapter 3 - One
879 Words
Tora had passed out where she sat.
Marthos wasn’t far behind, though consciousness clung to her just enough to pull her to her feet.
She needed to go.
Needed to return to Aurathen.
The Sylvarune air rushed against her skin as she stumbled out the door, blinking at the sudden shift in temperature.
Her wings unfurled, aching for flight, for distance from Sylvarune.
She took flight, only slightly before she tumbled into the ground. Her face connecting with the gravel. “You suck.” She told the ground, swaying from side to side as she slowly stood.
She shook out her wings, ready to take flight again, her body lurching sideways, and once again, gravity won.
She cursed, frustration cutting through the haze of wine as she pushed herself up again, wings trembling with effort.
She would not be grounded.
Not here. Not now.
She tried again. Tried harder.
Her hair, now loose around her shoulders, bits of gravel dusting her arms, her face.
Caelum.
She thought his name.
She hadn’t addressed him as Caelum to Theanna. His name was hers alone, something more precious than Oracle.
She pushed off the ground, wings beating against the air, and yet.
She flew backward.
The estate blurred beneath her as she spiralled in the wrong direction, away from Aurathen, away from home, colliding, violently, into the glasshouse.
Shards splintered around her, vines snapping, soil erupting in a cloud of dust.
The estate carer must have worked tirelessly to grow these plants.
Not that Solis ever touched them.
She knew him well enough to know he did not have a green thumb.
Tiny shards dug into her skin. Thorned vines coiled around her arms.
She felt none of it.
Not after twenty bottles of red wine.
Not when her mind had been so deeply cluttered.
She only ever drank like this when her thoughts became unbearable.
Usually, she would be doing this with Solis, but he was no longer a friend, as far as she was concerned.
The thought of him now made her stomach twist.
Made her cringe.
She stood once more to take flight, but her body refused to cooperate.
Her wings twitching, aching for movement, but the weight of too much wine kept her grounded.
A firm hand caught her arm, steadying her.
Her skin crawled.
She could recognise his presence without looking. But something was different, he smelled different, like a strong storm breeze, edged with sandalwood.
That’s new. She thought while tearing her hand from his grasp.
"You’re in no state to fly, Marthos."
Solis’s voice carried that calm command, tinged with concern. She’s drunk.
She hated it. Hated that tone he held, like he was her commander.
"Don’t tell me what to do, Solis. And what are you doing here?"
He exhaled, gaze unwavering.
"This is my estate. The real question is, what are you doing here? Traveling alone at night, you didn’t warn me, I haven’t told my soldiers. Do you have a death wish?"
She rolled her eyes.
"That was the point."
Her wings unfurled, the sharp flick of her movements more reckless than controlled.
"Let me shadow you to the border."
"No."
She wavered, nearly losing her footing on the glass below.
"Marthos."
Solis’s voice was steady, but his eyes flickered with something deeper.
"Please, let me shadow you to the border."
Her chest rose sharply. Gods she stubborn. He thought, she’s always been impossible to reason with when mad.
"No, I don’t want your help. Not now. Not ever. I hate you, Solis."
She jabbed a finger into his chest.
His breath hitched, just for a second. "Why? Because I saved you from that Oracle?"
The sharpness in his voice cut through the night.
"Move." She pushed past him.
But before she could step fully away, his hand caught her shoulder.
The world blurred. Smoke curled.
She barely registered it before reality shifted, before the border snapped into place beneath her feet.
Marthos inhaled sharply and she hit him.
Both hands. Against his chest. Again. And again.
Solis did not flinch.
Did not move.
Tears welled in her eyes.
"You sacrificed me in every vision except one."
Her voice wavered.
"I will hate you forever."
Solis’s blue eyes darkened but remained unreadable.
"You don’t mean that." He managed to say.
Her breath stilled.
"Oh, but I do." Marthos wiped at her tears.
"You’re my mate, Marthos." Solis said, his voice dipped lower, possessive, unyielding, almost dangerous.
Her pulse hammered.
She laughed, cold, humourless, sharp.
"See, this is why I chose the Oracle over you, He told me he loved me, and it wasn’t forced. I felt our bond before I chose him, you know."
She admitted, tilting her chin upward, gaze unwavering.
"And even now, you still haven’t chosen me. Not fully."
Silence hung between them.
That slight hesitation was all she needed for her to reject him.
Her wings snapped open, her body lifted.
She saw the Sylvarune soldiers on stand down, their gazes tracking her as she soared across the river, toward Aurathen. Toward Caelum.
Solis remained on the banks.
Motionless.
His fist clenched.
Pain.
That was the word.
The only word to describe the feeling of watching his mate in the arms of another.
- Writer
