Under Crimson Rain (Book Two)

⋆˖☽ Chapter 14 ☾˖⋆

⋆˖☽ Chapter 14 ☾˖⋆

A deep, biting chill locked my muscles in place, paralyzing me against the frozen earth. My body refused every command to move. Thick, dark miasma tainted my vision, slithering over my mouth and eyes like a living, breathing thing that carried the stench of rot.

Every hair on my body stood on end. The shadows shifted, peeling back from my eyes just enough to reveal the sky. I was lying flat on my back. Above me hung the Cursed Moon, fractured into jagged shards, yet its core still pulsed with an eerie, inexplicable purple light. The dark miasma dripped from the broken moon, splashing heavily against my skin.

Somewhere in the far distance, a muffled voice frantically called my name. The dark mist slithered around my throat, pulling tight like a noose.

No. Hot tears welled in my eyes as the darkness grasped me, dragging my body down into the freezing ground, pulling me deeper into the abyss. No!

A deep, resonating vibration prickled the base of my skull—one that was both familiar and welcomed.

Breathe, child. The ancient voice echoed in my mind, radiating a comforting warmth that pushed back against the freezing dark. You are in control here.

I forced my eyes shut. Focusing entirely on my chest, I mentally commanded the air to fill my lungs. A desperate, hungry gasp tore past my lips as my airways cleared. The miasma merely shifted just enough to allow me to breathe.

Go. I envisioned the dark mist leaving me, picturing my body finally breaking free from its suffocating grip. The miasma flickered. Searing lines of light broke through the shadows, shattering the mist until it was pulled high into the air, dissolving in the wind.

I lay there, my chest heaving as I stared up at the shattered sky.

"Enkarthos..."

The world shifted as I sat up. There was no pain here. No sound. Just absolute silence. Above me, the Cursed Moon disintegrated, drifting down like pale ash to coat the earth. Everything the leaking miasma touched absorbed the curse, fading away until the entire landscape turned the dead, flat color of charcoal. Massive trees cracked down their centers, splintering in half. The tall grass curled and withered, leaving nothing behind but barren, black ground smothered in dust.

"Alanah." The deep, echoing voice called my name again.

I whipped my head around, searching the desolate wasteland. There was nothing.

"Here." The voice was hushed now, a calm rumble resonating from somewhere directly in front of me.

The thick miasma slithered away from my body. It parted, leaving me sitting in the center of a large, clear circle. In the space before me, the air itself seemed to distort. The towering outline of a dragon's massive body rippled in the atmosphere, translucent and almost invisible. Only a single gold light, barely the size of a flickering flame, hovered in front of me.

"You're okay?" I breathed, staring at the ghostly form.

"I am safe, child," his ancient voice answered. He hesitated, the golden flame dipping. "But I have weakened significantly."

My stomach dropped into the charcoal dust. "Why?" My voice shook with a mix of betrayal and relief. "You showed me the truth, and then... nothing. You disappeared after that day."

"I never left you." The rumble of his voice wrapped around me like a shield. "I have still been with you this entire time. I am just weak. Every action has a consequence. One that none of us can avoid. Not even I."

"But why show up now?" The violent memory flooded my mind—the searing pain of being impaled in the shoulder, the world fading to black. "Am I..." My voice cracked in the quiet dark. "...dead?"

"You are in a deep slumber," Enkarthos answered.

I closed my eyes, a heavy wave of relief washing over my exhausted spirit.

"I was able to preserve your heart and your mind." The golden flame dipped closer, offering a meager but steady warmth. "Your physical body is mending."

His previous words replayed in my head: Every action has a consequence. My eyes snapped open, staring at the ground. I bit the inside of my cheek, guilt twisting in my gut. "And you?" I asked, my voice turning curt to mask the shame. "What is the consequence you must pay for this? I was foolish, and you suffer for me... again."

The desolate air around me held a flicker of warmth, wrapping me in a shred of ancient comfort. "You were blinded by rage."

My hand twitched in the dust.

"Rage will consume you." The golden flame flickering in front of me cast a brief, warm light on the dead ground before dimming once more. "You have learned."

My fingers dug into my thigh. The thought of Ruslan burned in my chest. He is right, I admitted to myself. My rage for him... my need for revenge... but that still doesn't change the fact that he must—

"The coming slaughter cannot be stopped," Enkarthos said, his heavy words easily interrupting my dark thoughts. "Blood will flow from both sides, staining this world crimson. I know what must happen. But do not act on rage, child."

"Then how do I act?" I snapped my head up, trying to imagine the look he would be giving me right now if I could actually see him.

"You remain true." The vibration of his words settled deep into my bones. "Do not let this world taint you, and do not lose who you are."

For a moment, the old, dark thought that I was nothing but a curse seeped into my mind. But I forced it away. No. I see the truth that no one else does, I reminded myself. I will do what must be done to protect others.

"Alanah..."

The hushed whisper echoed from somewhere far away, sounding like a desperate prayer. It wasn't Enkarthos. It was someone else—a muffled voice from the waking world that I couldn't quite place.

"You have learned much, and you will fall again," Enkarthos continued, ignoring the intrusion. "But you must learn to rely on others. You are no longer alone."

"Then you..." A warm glint of hope radiated in my chest. "Are you back?"

He didn't answer. A heavy, terrible silence stretched between us. The realization slammed down on me, making my body shift and sway dizzily.

"You aren't, are you?" I whispered, the hope dying. "Is this... just another nightmare?"

Before he could answer, my name echoed through the empty space again. The golden light hovering in front of me vanished completely.

"Wake up... I beg you."

Enkarthos's ancient voice came through one last time. It was incredibly distant now, just a faint prickle fading at the back of my mind. "The abyss shows you what you must see to survive."

"It only ever shows me how we die," I breathed, my voice dropping low.

Around me, the black miasma inched closer. The lingering warmth of Enkarthos evaporated, replaced by a bone-chilling dread. Deep beneath my feet, the ground vibrated. Violent, jagged cracks ripped through the black dust. Ear-piercing screeches erupted from the dark.

The earth ruptured. A massive, decaying Nyxraith hand dug out of the soil, hauling its horrifying body up from the abyss. It was immediately followed by another, and then another. The monsters were clawing their way out of the dirt.

I was surrounded. All at once, the horde charged. I stood there, helpless.

I gasped, my spine snapping straight against a soft surface as the nightmare shattered. The dead wasteland was swallowed by a void of blackness. Air tore into my real lungs, and a sharp ache flared in my shoulder. I couldn't see a thing; my heart hammered a frantic, bruised rhythm against my ribs.

Where am I? My panicked thoughts twisted in the dark. Am I in the Underkeep, or back on Luminethra?

My eyelids were far too weak to pry them open, but the scent of the room anchored me in the dark. Sharp, crackling woodsmoke intermingled with the soothing, earthy sweetness of dried lavender. The air here was not a damp chill, but a comfortably crisp dryness that warmed my skin. Beneath my bruised and battered body, the mattress yielded. Thick, lush furs draped over me acted less like blankets and more like a protective shield.

This is Luminethra.

I commanded my finger to twitch, but it barely trembled. Beside me, the mattress shifted; it groaned softly as a heavy weight lifted away from the bed.

"Alanah?" Mikaeus's voice was barely a ghost of its usual self. It was a raw, gravelly rumble torn from deep within his throat, laced with a despair that sounded as if every last ounce of his hope had already bled out.

I tried to speak, to offer him a single syllable of reassurance, but my vocal cords wouldn't work. The words stayed trapped in my throat. Desperate to connect, I willed my hand to reach for him.

A jagged, splintering heat tore through my chest, searing a path all the way down to my fingertips. A tiny, pathetic wince—barely even a whimper—slipped past my cracked lips.

"Don't move," Mikaeus begged, the hushed, frantic panic in his tone freezing me in place.

Forcing my eyes open, the world was nothing but a smear of shifting, golden-lit shadows. My heavy lids immediately surrendered, fluttering shut once more.

"You are safe." His fingers ghosted over my forearm. He barely touched my skin, yet the radiant heat of his hand seeped into my aching muscles.

I managed to peel my eyes open again. Mikaeus was hovering mere inches from my face. Deep, bruised-purple shadows carved out the skin beneath his eyes, and the whites were violently bloodshot. We held each other’s gaze for a fragile, fleeting second before my exhaustion dragged my eyelids down again.

"I am glad you have awoken." The warmth of his hand slowly slipped away.

A thick, dry swallow echoed in the quiet room. Pushing through the fatigue to open my eyes once more, I saw Mikaeus sitting and staring at his hands, folded limply in his lap. His knuckles were split, raw, and red. My own body was a leaden weight, sinking deeper into the soft mattress as if trying to bury itself. I desperately fought the urge to speak again. How could I be here? How am I safe? But still, no sound came out.

Mikaeus reached over to the wooden nightstand, the scrape of glass loud in the silence. "I am going to help you. Drink this."

He lifted the cool glass to my dry lips, tilting it with agonizing care, allowing a single, soothing ribbon of water to cascade down my parched throat. Just as gently, he tipped it back and pulled it away.

"I thought we lost you," he admitted, the sentence shattering halfway through. He opened his mouth as if to say more, then snapped it shut. His knuckles turned white as his grip tightened dangerously around the fragile glass, his hand visibly shaking.

"Wh... wh—" I managed to croak, the sound a painful, rasping scrape.

"We can talk about it at a later time." He set the glass back down onto the nightstand with a definitive clink. A broken, exhausted smile touched his lips, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "For now, you just need more rest."

I do not want to lie here, I thought, a spark of familiar stubbornness flaring to life. Digging my trembling fingers into the plush sheets, I tried to force my battered frame into a sitting position. The sudden spike of pain was instantaneous and blinding, making the shadowy room spin violently around me.

"Let—"

Before Mikaeus could finish the warning, the wooden door groaned open on its hinges. Emeric filled the doorway. The moment our eyes locked, his dilated pupils flared, and the harsh, rigid lines of his face melted into an expression of profound relief. Then, just as quickly, the mask slammed back into place. He tore his gaze away from me, fixing it on Mikaeus.

"She woke up," Emeric stated, his boots heavy on the floor as he moved further into the room, coming to a halt behind Mikaeus's chair. A thick coil of white gauze wrapped tightly around his forearm, the fabric saturated with dark, drying blood. Catching my stare, Emeric sharply tugged his sleeve down, hiding the wound from view.

"Yes, but she needs rest," Mikaeus warned softly, rising to his feet. "Do not—"

"I won't," Emeric cut him off. "I came to relieve you. You are needed elsewhere."

Mikaeus released a heavy, ragged sigh. He reached out, clasping Emeric’s broad shoulder in a firm, silent exchange of understanding. "Take care of her."

Letting his hand drop to his side, Mikaeus paused, casting one last, pleading look at Emeric before glancing down at me. "I will be back as soon as I can." With that, he left the room.

Emeric remained still, looming in the silence with his green eyes fixed on the floor. The crackle and pop of the hearth fire was the only sound bridging the suffocating space between us, the flames casting dancing, amber light across his features. The chair groaned as he finally sat down.

"What..." I gasped, fighting the searing ache in my chest to force the words out, "...happened?"

Emeric’s eyes widened briefly at the sound of my broken voice before narrowing. His jaw tightened. "Does it matter? You are safe."

"Is everyone?"

"Yes." He looked away again, his profile sharp against the firelight. "Everyone is fine. You were reckless."

The quiet anger lacing his words stung. He isn't wrong, I admitted to myself. I expected this. Refusing to be cowed, I braced myself and tried to push up again. A low, involuntary moan tore from my lips. He was looking at me instantly.

"Stop." A low, rough irritation vibrated in his chest. "You are stubborn. Do you want to bleed out on these sheets?"

Before I could summon the breath to snap back at him, his large, calloused hand was already there, sliding gently beneath the nape of my neck. My eyes flew wide in shock. What? He leaned in closer, his massive frame eclipsing the firelight and casting me entirely in his shadow as his other hand hooked securely behind my back.

"Don't move," he commanded, his voice suddenly stripped of its bite, dropping to a startlingly soft register. His eyes fixed deliberately on my bandaged collarbone, refusing to meet mine. "Let me."

As he effortlessly lifted my dead weight, my body naturally tipped forward. The crown of my head brushed softly against the bare skin of his throat. He went rigid. His long, warm fingers tightened against my spine, lingering against me for a fraction of a second too long. The air between us thickened.

Without warning, he shoved a thick pillow into place behind my shoulders and laid me back against it. Retreating just as quickly as he had come, he dropped back down into the chair, his eyes once again on the floor.

My head snapped toward him as a sudden, terrifying realization crashed over me. I clenched my jaw against a fresh wave of pain. "Ondina," I managed, my voice barely audible.

"That blonde woman?" he asked, his tone blank.

"Yes... her." My heart began to hammer an erratic rhythm in my throat. Please let her be alive. Please don't let Ruslan have her.

"She is safe in the other room. Though..." He fell silent, a shadow crossing his face. "...she is pretty damaged."

"Why?" I breathed, the word scraping against my dry throat. "Why did you save her?"

The tight muscle in his jaw feathered. "I saw it."

"What?"

"I saw you sacrifice yourself like a fool for that woman. You almost died for her," his voice dropping to a harsh, accusing whisper. "An inch lower—" His eyes snapped back to mine, blazing with a terrifying, uncontrolled fury that pinned me to the mattress. "An inch lower, and you would be dead. I do not think you understand."

His dark pupils dilated wildly, swallowing the iris for a fraction of a second as he fought a silent war to rein himself in. He let out a ragged exhale, dropping his gaze. I didn't answer. I couldn't. I just watched the desperation bleed out of him, my mind spinning as I tried to navigate a version of him I'd never seen before.

His voice dropped into a murmur. "You were unconscious for three days."

My fingers dug into the soft sheets. "Is... is she awake?"

He let out a dry, almost disbelieving chuckle as he shook his head. "You..." His voice faded, the harsh lines of his expression softening just a fraction. "No. She is still not awake."

"Can—"

"No, you cannot," he interrupted, the stern command returning to his tone. "You can barely sit up, let alone walk. Besides, she can't talk. Think about it."

He is right, I admitted silently. The adrenaline was fading, and a crushing exhaustion was rushing in to take its place, pulling at my bones.

"We will make sure you see her when the time is right," he promised quietly, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the tension.

"Thank you." The words were brittle and fragile, but it was the only way I could respond. She is alive... that... is enough...

My eyelids slipped shut, no longer able to fight the inevitable pull of sleep. Letting the quiet, crackling warmth of the fire and the steady, grounding rhythm of Emeric's breathing anchor me, I allowed the heavy drag of sleep to claim me once more.

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