Page 78 of The Bound Mage
She’d even sent Galen.
He stood near the dust-covered altar, arms folded tight across his chest. There was no trace of his usual easy smile today. Just a dark scowl carved deep across his face, his eyes fixed on Loren like he was waiting for him to fall apart.
None of them would make a difference ifdara’elchose violence.
Loren stared out the broken doors, studying the roiling darkness. In his memory, it was a wide, green space where he and Thorne had run and played. But now? It was nothing but a graveyard.
Lost. His shadows curled around his boots, slithering restlessly up his spine.Broken. Fractured and forgotten?—
“Are you sure about this?”
“No.” Loren didn’t turn to look at Galen as the other male stepped up beside him.
“You know, not one attempt to retrieve your father’s remains ended without casualties,” Galen said, his voice low. “There’s a reason Eloria forbade further efforts?—”
“And there’s a reason she approved this one,” Loren said flatly.
Galen turned his head slightly. “And you thinksheis ready forthis?”
Loren followed Galen’s gaze to where Araya stood, arms wrapped around herself as she stared up at the veiled statue of the absent Goddess. She’d bound her hair back in that tight braid and traded her usual dress for a dark tunic and breeches. She’d even strapped the dagger he’d insisted she wear to her belt without protest. Loren doubted she’d draw it if she needed to, but it wouldn’t matter today.
No steel could cut down a shadow.
“She’s ready,” Loren said.
As if she heard him, Araya looked up. Her silver gaze met his, and that quiet presence in his chest stirred as the shadows at his feet reached for her—eager and unbidden. Her lips twitched in a faint smile as they curled around her legs, drawing her forward.
“I’ll let them know, then,” Galen said. He inclined his head to Araya as she started toward them, but stepped away before she reached them.
“He doesn’t think I can do this,” she said, stroking the shadow that curled around her shoulder like a fur stole.
“He’s wrong,” Loren said.
He held out his hand, sparks scurrying across his skin when she took it. She let him pull her close, resting her head against his shoulder like she needed the contact as much as he did.
After a long moment, Araya pulled back.
“We should go,” she said softly. “There are no more reasons to wait.”
Loren nodded, though his chest ached with the loss of her closeness. It wasn’t just physical. She was retreating—already holding herself apart, bracing to sever the bond between them.
What would it feel like when she broke it for good?
Loren shoved the thought down, refusing to acknowledge the twist of pain in his chest. Whatever came next, they would face it together. And for now, that was enough.
It didn’t take long to get everything ready. The soldiers arrayed themselves down the stairs and in the courtyard, while the Healers clustered inside the temple. A scout leaned close to Galen, saying something low and urgent about the wind—as if something as simple as a brisk breeze would make the difference this time. But none of them stood any closer to the dark mist than they had to.
Loren didn’t blame them.
The Veil pulsed before them, as cold and angry as the wall of darkness over the Shadowed Sea had been.
Even his own shadows curled around his feet, reluctant to get any closer to the heaving, pulsing darkness.
“Are you afraid?” Araya asked, quietly enough that no one else would hear.
“I am.” Loren didn’t look at her as he answered. He couldn’t lie to her—but he didn’t want to see her face when he said it.
“Me too,” she whispered. “But we have a plan. Don’t we?”
