Page 124 of Ecliptic

It was the night before battle, and I was a nervous wreck. I paced the dome, picking at the skin around my nails and thumb. I needed to fuck my soul flame to release this pent-up frustration, but I’d left him in a desert halfway around the world.

I knew Thaydril would help him get to Viltarran, which wasn’t far from the Wyn village, but with my aching heart and throbbing core, it might as well be oceans away.

Not having Rowen by my side on the eve of battle left my nerves shredded and raw. It felt like I was hacked in half. We already had so little time together, and now, we were separated by obligation and duty. The only thing that gave me the slightest bit of comfort was gripping Mithrion until my knuckles ached. Rowen designed every dip, point, and curve of my star blade; its weight a reminder that he would always be with me.

I knew I needed to sleep, but my mind wouldn’t stop racing. My thoughts were haunted with images of people dying or turning into Voro-Kai.

It was too quiet. Each and every one of my heartbeats was like a countdown to war, terror, and pain.

I strode out the door, unable to stand the sound of my pulse for one more second. The moon and floating luminorbs lit a winding pathway to the beach, and my bare feet followed it without question.

I dropped onto a sandbank overlooking the ocean and towering sea stacks. The waves were violent, almost as if they sensed the looming battle ahead, but I welcomed the tumultuous tides. They were the only things big enough to drown out the horrific thoughts in my head.

Above me, the sky lazily rotated in a glittering dance—a stark contrast to the ocean and turmoil within me. I inhaled deeply, letting the cool, salty air fill my lungs. I held the breath as Rowen’s absence, the looming battle ahead, and my certain future pressed down on me. The slow exhale allowed me toshrug, just a little, to readjust the weight of the world on my shoulders.

I shivered as the chilly ocean air washed over my skin. I’d changed into a pale blue night slip that hugged my every curve yet did little in the way of providing warmth.

I ran my hands up and down my arms when a thick blanket was wrapped around my shoulders, trapping my hair within the fabric. The broad palms gave a firm yet welcoming squeeze, and a familiar warmth seeped into my skin.

I whipped my head around, my heart leaping in anticipation.

“Are you okay?” Maddock asked behind me, and my heart dropped. I blinked up to his large frame that eclipsed the stars in the perfect shape of his body.

“I needed to get some quiet. It was too loud in my dome,” I said, digging my toes into the sand.

“Yeah. Same,” he said, gesturing to my side. “May I join you?”

I nodded, and he plopped down next to me on the sand. His arm settled against mine, offering me more warmth and protection from the cold.

“You ready to tell me what’s going on? Why you’ve been acting strange?”

I wrapped the shawl tighter around my shoulders. “Is war not a good enough reason to act strange?”

His angular eyes narrowed. “It’s more than that, I think.”

“I’m just stressed, tired, and without my other half.”

“Keira, you can tell me anything. You know that, right? I would never tell anyone.”

The sincerity on his face made my bond hum. It wasn’t his bond, or at this point, maybe it was. He placed his palm on my hand, his touch sending a bolt of electricity through my skin.

“What is it, Keira? You’re scaring me. I’ll imagine the worst if you don’t tell me.”

My bottom lip trembled. “It is the worst,” I barely whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean? Does it have to do with Rowen being a lord, or what happens after?”

Something in me crashed like sea stacks falling into the sea. “There won’t be an after for me,” I said, my eyes finally meeting his.

“Keira, what do you mean?” he asked carefully, his smooth jaw clenching.

“I spoke with Indrasyl in the Hymma. She said . . . she said, I will have to give all of me. But no one can know. They won’t let me go if they know.”

Fury rippled through him. “N-no. There has to be another way.”

“I thought I could rewrite the stars,” I said, looking back at the ocean. “But I can’t. Indrasyl was clear.”

He hooked his finger on my chin and pulled my gaze back to his. “What does she know? You aren’t some sacrificial lamb that gets to walk willingly to the altar. You did it at Hara’dune, and you’re doing it again now. And how many other times I wonder. It’s not your job.”

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