Page 62 of Winter Queen
The Morrigan has stopped laughing and is swaying on her feet, her eyes unfocused. Frost must have seen the same thing because a second later, a large icicle is stuck in the Morrigan’s chest. I stare at him in surprise; I didn’t think he still had the energy for magic like that.
It’s just in time to see his eyes flutter closed and his body go limp. Damn him, playing the hero. Now we have two unconscious men to carry.
Arc grabs Wyn’s father and slings him over his shoulder, before we both start running, through the door into the open. Flying with Frost in my arms is hard; I’m having trouble keeping out of reach of the demons below. We’re racing towards the Gate, hoping the Morrigan won’t be able to catch up before we reach it.
Demons are shouting from beneath us, pointing up. Arc doesn’t have the energy to both shield us from their view and carry Wyn’s father. Hopefully, none of them will take to the air and pursue us.
Far too quickly, we need to land to enter the tunnel. I’m running as fast as I can, but I’m getting more tired with every step. There are a few bleeding wounds on my legs that I didn’t even notice while the adrenaline of the fight was running through my veins, but now, they’re making running painful.
It takes forever to reach the final cavern, and even longer to reach the Gate at its end. My legs are heavy and Frost keeps slipping from my grip. Arc isn’t faring much better; he’s breathing hard and cursing every few steps.
We stagger through the Gate, more falling than walking. I land on the wet ground, Frost still in my arms.
I sit up, expecting there to be demons, but the castle is deserted. Thank the Gods, we’re not in the best shape to fight demons right now.
Suddenly, in a flash of light, figures appear all around us. Not demons though. Guardians. How the…
“Frost!” a very familiar voice shouts and a moment later, my brother is lifted from my arms. I’m too surprised to even protest.
I sit up and look around. Ten Guardians are standing around us in a circle, protectively facing out. We’re safe.
Crispin is bent over my brother’s body, his hands moving in complicated patterns. How did the healer get here? Thank the Gods that he is, though. My brother will be alright now, Crispin will fix his legs. I turn to search for Arc, who must have landed just behind me.
He’s no longer holding his charge either. Wyn is.
Our Wyn.
She’s cradling her father in her arms, her hands making the same movements that Crispin does when he’s healing someone. Since when can she do that? Crisp showed her the mechanics of it all, but so far, she hasn’t managed to heal even a tiny cut. Now it looks like she’s mending her father’s wounds.
“Wyn?” I ask hesitantly, and she looks up at me.
Her eyes are glowing bright blue, her features are sharper somehow and I’m sure that the hair on her head is her own and not a wig.
What the fuck happened to my Wyn?
~ The End ~
