Page 291 of Emylia

Frozen. Still.

My heart stopped–not like a skip. Not like a stutter.

Itstopped.

Cold. Hollow.

A chasm cracked open inside me, wide enough to swallow air, thought, time.

Aunty Triska.

Without thinking, I sprinted to her. I needed her to be alive. I needed at least one of them to survive this fate.

Blood was all I could see—so much blood it drowned out the world.

With a trembling breath, I pressed two fingers to her neck, praying, pleading—but the final thread of hope abandoned me.

The moment my fingers brushed Triska’s bloodied skin, it was like a dagger driving straight through my chest.

I crumbled. A mournful cry tore from my throat, raw and broken, filling the air with grief too thick to swallow. I surrendered to it, welcoming the agony like an old, familiar companion.

The image of Triska—of her daughters—slaughtered by the blades of a bloodthirsty enemy, seared itself into my soul.

A brand I would carry for the rest of my life.

"Emylia," Maalika’is voice pierced through the fog. "I'm sorry. But we can't stay here."

The words sliced through me, sharp and brutal.

I wanted to fight him.

I wanted to fall to my knees and wail until the world crumbled with me.

But deep down, I knew.

If my family had been killed on the road to my home—and we hadn’t encountered a single soul along the way—then the warriors were already there.

Waiting.

We didn’t even have the mercy of sending my family to Elinthia.

The earth would have to claim them instead.

ChapterSixty-Five

Numb, blind, I mounted Stormfire, barely feeling the saddle beneath me.

Signaling with my feet, I urged her forward—desperation launching us into a pace that defied logic, defied grief, defied everything.

Time didn’t pass.

It splintered.

It fractured into jagged pieces, sharp and senseless.

Only seconds passed before my house came into view. I yanked Stormfire to a halt, guiding us into the cover of a thicket of trees.

The world around us pulsed, thick with a tension that buzzed against my skin.

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