Evette blinked, her tears washing away the dirt that had quickly settled on her skin. She coughed loudly, spewing air that her lungs refused to accept. Black smoke billowed in the empty space, reaching up toward the ceiling. She stood, her life practically flashing before her eyes as the stench of charred flesh and black smoke invaded her senses. She squinted her eyes, hands shaking as she helplessly glanced toward the open archway on the other side of the hall. The wall of shadow had disappeared, uncovering the open hall that led to the level she stood on. She turned away for a moment in search of a way through the flames that encircled her, and when she turned back, her eyes fell on the pathway that had led her down to where she was now. She was searching for a way out—something, anything.

Eve stepped toward the flames, but they only roared at her, growing taller as she tried to escape their grip. The fire that she had conjured within herself did not burn her, but these flames would, if given the chance. They were filled with fury, and as they ate away at the innocent wolves who tossed and turned on the floor, she felt her heart start to go up in smoke. It cracked into a thousand pieces, shattering in her chest.

Jamie was the first to reach the hall, followed by his sister and others Evette did not recognize. They stared at her through the flames, watching as they grew higher and higher, leaving her unburnt.

Narcisse stood amongst them, pushing his way around the others so he could stand closest to the flames, blood drying on his tan skin and worn clothes. Evette could feel his heartbeat from where she stood, unable to reach him. It only added to the overwhelming pain she felt. Her lungs were struggling to pump enough oxygen into her system, her head pounded; she felt his painful heartbeat throb in her sensitive ears from across the room. Some of the smoke rose toward the hole in the ceiling, but most was trapped in the invisible bubble that surrounded her.

Their expressions were horrid; their gazes fell on her, assessing the scene before them. Evette's fear and guilt only drove the flames to spread faster. Though heat blurred her vision, she could see the light in their eyes fade. The girl who once trusted her, had been painted a picture that turned her against Eve. Jamie was silent, as he could not speak words, unable to tell his sister or the others that Evette was not the one who had inflicted such evil upon Collin and the lunar wolves.

They once looked at her with hope in their eyes, admiring her angelic beauty, but now, they looked at her with hatred, quick to blame. Dracul had outsmarted her. He had created the flames knowing that anyone who had not known he was underground would see her as the one who had started the fire, burning innocents alive. It was a convincing image, seeing as the flames did not touch the girl who stood in the center of the chaos. Jamie was the only one who knew the truth, and Eve hoped that he would someday soon be able to share it. Right now, he could not. He could not speak, and he could not write, and even if he wished to try, there was no time.

Part of Narcisse knew Evette was not the one who had created the flames. The other, more skeptical part of him, wondered for a brief moment if she was the culprit. He hated himself for even pondering it. The fear in her eyes told him all that he needed to know. She hardly had any time to ponder the truth of what had happened, as all Eve could think of was reaching Narcisse, and escaping the flames.

Before Jade or the others could drag Narcisse away, and escape the wrath of the ceiling that began to cave in, fear and adrenaline clutched him, forcing a growl to escape his throat. He was new to the transition, but it felt natural to him, and caused him little pain.

Narcisse still held one of Chesare's blades, the tip of the large sword skimming the ground as he lowered it. His claws sharpened, closing around the hilt as fur rose on his skin. He knew nothing but her. Her smile, and her crying eyes. He only wanted to pull her away from the flames. To be near her again.

Evette fell to her knees, feeling her throat close as her lungs failed her. She turned her gaze to the floor, staring blankly as she exhaled her last breath of clean air, untainted by smoke.

Narcisse had been a selfish man in the past, but when it came to Eve, he was dangerously selfless. Perhaps it was wrong of her to want him; perhaps it was wrong of him to want to give her what she wanted, but they had never been ones who were known for being righteous or intelligently calculated in their actions. The pull they felt was strange, but somehow, it made perfect sense. They had unlocked new fears and insecurities within themselves, regardless of what may have happened in the past, and as Narcisse once again fell hostage to his affectionate feelings, he hurled himself into the flames that stood between them.

His fur covered skin was burned by the flames as he ran through them, yelping loudly as his wolf bit down on the hilt of the sword he had placed in his mouth, carrying it through fire.

Evette felt rough fur brush against the side of her body, beckoning her to reach out and touch it. The wolf who now stood above her had been scolded by the flames, some patches of his fur burned away from his blistered skin. He howled when Eve placed her arms around his neck, hoisting herself up onto his back as she violently coughed, her lungs pained in her chest as they heaved. She closed her eyes as she felt Narcisse's body move beneath her, his four legs carrying him.

The wolf paused midstride, his head turning as he forced his body around, glancing in all directions. The flames grew wild and unruly, reaching the place where Jade and the others backed away as they witnessed Eve cling to Narcisse, his cries loud and piercing.

The circle of flame that had not touched Evette, started to grow near as Narcisse stood in the center, trying to catch his breath. He looked up, eyeing the gaping hole in the ceiling that fully began to collapse. Large rocks touched down, blocking the path from which he came. The flames reached his tail, sizzling as his fur darkened. He jumped, forcing his hind legs to push his heavy body upward, in hopes that he could jump high enough.

Evette held on tight as Narcisse clawed at the ceiling, his nails digging into the dirt as he fought to defy gravity. He tried to pull himself and Evette up and away from the flames, but he was weighed down by the girl on his back, sliding backwards faster than he could rise.

He found his second wind, roaring as he clawed faster, carrying himself and Evette up, stopping when he reached the hall above their heads, pausing for more than a few moments, watching as the flames rose higher, reaching the hall that held the deep fighting pit. Chesare's dead body stared back at him as he peeked over the side, the ground rumbling beneath them. Evette could breathe again, but was still dizzy and winded from the stress the smoke had caused. She held on, her legs dangling on either side of his back, her body slumped over. She realized where she was, and shut her eyes tight, afraid to look at the bodies on the floor. They had been slayed by Narcisse and the others.

He still bit down on the sword in his mouth, allowing anger and fear to fuel him. Eve had been strong for him, caring for him when he was wounded that day in the forest. She brought him to the wolves' place because she cared, and now he was determined to get her out of the underground. He needed to stay strong for her, because if he did not, they both surely would perish in the fire. She needed his strength; his claws. He needed her to grip onto his scorched fur to remind him that he had to keep moving.

Narcisse shook his head, shaking away the dizziness he felt as prominent red veins glowed beneath his fur, brightly shining through. It was a reminder that Evette was now his keeper. The one to whom he was dutifully bound. The one he wanted to be bound to forever.

"I'm sorry," The voice belonged to the girl who clung to him. He could feel her heated tears fall onto the skin of his back, lightly soothing his burns. "I'm sorry." She repeated over and over, and Narcisse wished he could have spoken reassuring words, but he knew that he could not. He carried the sword in his mouth, and had to conserve his strength.

He jumped again, higher this time. The floor to the hall above the level where the lunar wolves once lived fell, crashing down on the lower level below. Narcisse had no time to wonder if Jade and the others had made it out in time, as he was too busy trying to claw his way up the walls, desperately inching toward the surface. They were so close. No turning back now.

If he were to fall, the flames would consume them both. They were lucky to have made it so far, but the final stretch was the hardest. Evette squeezed her arms around him tighter, practically choking him as he reached up in an attempt to hoist himself up. He had made it to the surface, and as he tried to steady himself from the tremors that still shook the ground, Evette fell off his back, landing hard on the ground, the night sky twinkling far above her head.

She dry-heaved between gut-wretching coughs, trying to catch her breath. The fresh air revitalized her, and Eve gulped down the crisp night air gasping for relief. She felt beyond free, knowing they were no longer stuck underground. The ground rumbled, and suddenly, she felt Narcisse nudge her side, careful not to wave the sword in his mouth toward her. A large crack appeared in the ground, stretching close to where they both huddled.

The ground became uneven as the crack widened. The tunnels below the surface caved in, forcing Evette and Narcisse to move away from the area of dirt that shifted. She grabbed onto his back once more as he carried her away from the tunnel they had just escaped from.

Surprisingly, the forest was not destroyed. The leaves on the trees had not been burnt, and there was not a single trace of charred plant matter. Evette questioned how that was even possible. She had accidentally created fire that had stretched far and wide, destroying such natural beauty before her very eyes.

She wondered if it was all a dream. Or a nightmare that she had mistaken for reality, but that was not possible. It was real, all of it. From the frightening wolves, to the fire, and the dragon shifter that had located her amongst such chaos, it was unlikely that it was all a figment of her imagination. Narcisse had been there with her, for most of it at least.

Narcisse stopped abruptly when he reached a soft patch of fallen leaves, gently laying Evette down on the ground so he could curl up beside her in an attempt to slow his heartbeat. Large, blistered burns covered his body, and as he changed back into human form, he fell onto his back beside her, his clothes stiff and torn.

Evette turned to him, rushing to lace her fingers through his as she bent her knees and leaned over his body. She tried to examine his wounds, but Narcisse refused to let her. He pulled her in close, her body pressed hard against his bloody chest as he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed her fiercely. They both pulled away after a moment, exhausted.

"Come here," His voice was quiet and strained. He wished to pull her in closer, for her to snuggle against his shaking frame, but she was too concerned to grant him his wish.

"I have to find a way to bandage these," She breathed, her hand gently cupping one side of his face, as the other had been burned. "Find fresh water, or something to help. . ."

"No," He growled at Evette with a stern look on his face that took her aback. "I'll be alright."

"What do you want me to do then?" Eve asked, a concerned gleam in her eyes.

"Lie down," He growled. "Rest beside me."

Evette hesitantly fell away from him, lying on her back in the soft leaves. The ground was cold beneath her body, but she assumed that was why he wished to simply lie still, so he could cool the burning ache the flames had left on his skin.

"Thank you." Her small voice was heard over the slight breeze that blew through the trees, leaves swirling beneath the starlight.

"Save your words, love." He stared up at the sky, admiring the glow of the moon. "Rest for me."

"What did I do to deserve you." Was her whisper. She smiled, closing her eyes as sleep overtook her.

• • •

Evette awoke to the sound of loud rustling leaves, and the feeling of the ground gently shaking beneath her, gasping for breath as she finally escaped the nightmare that her brain had refused to allow her to wake up from. She sat up, glancing over at the sleeping man beside her.

The sky was still dark, and the light of the moon still shone down from its place in the sky. She examined Narcisse's burns in the low light, careful not to touch them. They had blistered over his skin, still red and sensitive though his body had begun to heal. The skin on the left side of his face rippled, pale in comparison to his other burns. He was still just as handsome with the burns, as he was without them. 

He opened his eyes, groggily staring at her as she examined him. "Is something wrong?" He asked gruffly.

"No, everything's fine," Eve nodded. "I just had a nightmare is all."

"What about?"

"It's not important," Evette glanced away. "I can tell you about it later."

Narcisse reached up, gently brushing away the hair that fell over her eyes, exposing the nervous gleam in her orbs. "We both have things that we're afraid to tell each other, but honesty should be more important than our own fears."

"Tell me something that you're afraid to share with me, and I will tell you about the dream I had." She murmured as she reached to hold his hand, paying no mind to the sword that laid on the ground beside him.

Narcisse tried to sit up, but Evette refused. A groan escaped his lips the moment he tried to move, and she shook her head at him. "Don't try to move. You might hurt yourself."

He sighed, glancing up at her, suddenly nervous. "It's not something about me, it is something that I have kept from you."

"You mean, besides listening in on my conversations, and the fact that you knew who the men were that ambushed us?"

"Yes," He said seriously. "I have kept it from you since before we were attacked in the road."

"Tell me. I won't get upset."

"You cannot say that, you have not yet heard what I have to say." Narcisse squeezed her hand gently. "I told you once that your intentions are what matter, and I must confess, at the start, I harbored greedy thoughts. Held wicked intentions."

Evette simply stared at him, attempting to silently guess what he wished to tell her. Never in a million years, would she have guessed what he began to confess.

"The king entrusted Jameson, Montgomery, and I, with the task of escorting the girls to Drogen, but you know that already." He paused, suddenly breathless. "What I have not told you, is that I went behind their backs, and made an agreement with someone I wished I could make amends with. I knew that they were willing to pay gold in exchange for women, and a seemingly endless amount of it if anyone was somehow able to locate an elf, not particularly one with royal blood—although that did help raise the amount of money they were willing to pay—and transport them to a place where they could make the exchange. I made a stop, during the short time we were in Tigerstar, to meet with someone who would have assisted me in handling James or Monty if anything were to happen while on our journey."

Evette had felt pain. She had spent nights crying alone, with no one who truly cared to understand why she felt the way she had. She had lost her mother, and her half brother. Dracul had ripped out her heart when he killed innocents before her eyes. She had fallen victim to affliction many times, but nothing could equate to the hurt that now forced her to pull away from Narcisse. She quickly rose to her feet, then took a step back.

"What are you saying?" She croaked.

Narcisse sat up, groaning as he disobeyed Evette, shakily standing so he could reach for her hand.

"He owns brothels in many towns, and has customers who were willing to pay—I know what it looks like, but just hear me out—I had agreed to the offer he made me, but I couldn't go through with it. It wasn't long ago that I told you what I crave most. I would have done anything to feel the way I do when I make a profit, you know that."

Evette choked, her mouth slightly agape as she took another step back, refusing to allow Narcisse to hold her hand. "You would have sold the girls to a brothel?" Her voice was quiet, but inside, she was screaming. "You would have taken pleasure in earning money for taking them hostage? Selling them off to a man just so you could make amends for something that you did in the past?"

"No! Please just allow me to explain further— I know that you are not fully aware of what a brothel is."

Evette grew angry, her nose scrunching up as she sharply inhaled. "Do not speak to me like I am naïve! I have been around your kind long enough since I left my homeland to have heard things. To have figured things out. To have learned that some of your urges differ than those of elves!"

Narcisse shook his head, cursing at himself quietly as he fought to find the right words. "It was before I met you. Before I knew you. I knew I had to tell you, but I just didn't know how to. It was weighing on my conscience."

"If you truly believe that is a valid excuse, then I swear, I will never trust you again. Ever."

"It isn't! And I know that it is confusing, but there is more to it than what I have said. The man who wanted to buy the girls travels to different places regularly for matters of business, and he is very good at disguising himself, as well as finding ways to travel to places that no human should travel to. It is a long story. . ."

"How do you know him? What is his name?" Evette asked.

"He was an old friend."

"That is not what I asked you! Tell me the truth!" She barked.

Narcisse fumbled. "His name is Leviathan. I met Greece when I was on the circuit. I would have never been awarded anything by the king without his connection to him."

"And you would have sold the girls to him just because he helped you earn a bit of gold while on the circuit? Could there be another reason why you would do something so disgusting?"

He closed his eyes, the red veins beneath his skin appearing as the fear of losing Eve's trust pressed him. "I had lied to him a very long time ago, and I wanted to prove to him that I wouldn't betray him again."

"How dare you! Wanting to use innocent young women to prove to a man who you believed was your friend, that you wouldn't lie again! How does this have anything to do with the girls?" She breathed. "Do you even remember what I had said before? That Morgan was the youngest?"

"Yes, and I decided to break the agreement Greece and I had once I got to know you a little, and the others. I realized that what I had agreed to was not right. Forgive me." He begged.

Evette turned away from him, her head hung low as she stepped into the dark, plant matter rustling beneath her boots. She did not care to worry about what could have lingered in the dark, amongst the trees.

Dracul was the first to leave her reeling from the knowledge he had shared with her. She wondered why he had left her alive, as she knew he could have killed her if he'd wished to. He was dangerous, and cold, and utterly wicked. She thought of Avá, the woman whom she thought could be trusted. Eve recalled all of the things that the woman had told her, and realized how crazed she had sounded, her perception of reality oddly unsettling. The thought that her brother had been the one to have held the necklace in his possession until he gifted it to her, only beguiled her further. The Maker had been—and likely still was—possessing Argyle's body, and in knowing that, Evette felt that she wanted to keep walking amongst the darkness that loomed over the tall trees until she could not bare to take another step.

"Where are you going?" Narcisse asked, rushing back to retrieve the sword he had brought with him from the underground, following after Evette as she tightly hugged herself.

"Somewhere away from you!" She said, her voice strained.

"This wasn't what I wanted to happen! I thought we could just be honest with each other. You still have not told me about the nightmare you had."

"And I'm not going to! So, leave me be. If you want to follow me, then you may, but if not, then I will be on my way regardless." Eve huffed. She did not wish to leave Narcisse, but she needed time to think, and desperately needed to stretch her legs.

"You said that you had no regrets in binding your life to mine. If you can accept me as I am in my desires, then why can't you forgive me for this? Have I lost your faith? Your love?"

Evette spun on her heel, turning back toward Narcisse in the dark. The two of them fell back as Eve stalked toward him, returning back to the area in which the light of the moon illuminated the patch of fallen leaves they had rested in.

"Let us get one thing straight," She pointed. "I told you that I care for you—I did not say that I love you."

Narcisse frowned. They stared at each other for a moment, admiring the way the moonlight cast a shadow over their bright eyes. They were confused as to what to say, or do. There was no right or wrong answer, and they realized that it was not about deciding who was right or wrong, as it did not matter. Growth mattered. Honesty mattered.

"I love you," Narcisse murmured, his head held high. "And it doesn't matter if you don't feel the same. One cannot choose who their heart beats for, as the heart wants what it wants."

Evette blinked. She had not been told that she was loved in so long. The word felt foreign to her, and she had not realized before how badly she wished for Narcisse to love her. How badly she craved his attention and love because she felt broken and alone. There was a hole in her heart, and she filled it with the knowledge that a man like Narcisse could love her. Could prioritize her, and show her affection. Perhaps it was all a game, one that she had won by winning his heart. She asked herself if she even wanted it. If she wanted to take on the responsibility of not breaking it. What Noel felt for her was different in a way. She had made no promises to him, and she felt that she owed him nothing. Eve knew that she did not owe Narcisse anything either, but she wanted her heart to beat for him in the way his beat for hers. Filled with desire and passion.

Eve sharply inhaled a familiar stench. It took her a moment to realize where she had last smelled the potent scent. It was rich, and rife.

Narcisse waited for Eve to speak. Instead of hearing her melodic voice pierce the silence, he heard the deep rumble of a man's voice sound from behind him, as a knife was plunged into his back, stealing his breath as he felt the cold steel quickly being pulled away. The assailant stood behind him and pulled the dagger out of his back, just to force it to tear through the skin of a different area, blood spewing from the deep puncture wounds. As Narcisse's attacker pushed his body to the side, forcing him to fall to the forest floor, the man set his gaze on Evette.

"How sweet," The voice startled her. "He was just confessing his love for you."

Evette screamed, staring with wide eyes at the man who had stabbed Narcisse repeatedly. His body had decayed further, his skin starting to crack and darken. His blue eyes held power, while the vessel he possessed was weak and ailing.

She raced to Narcisse's side, holding his head in her hands as she watched his eyelids flutter closed, his pulse weakening as blood pooled around him. Her head shot up, now staring up at the man who stood. His bow string strained against his torso as he shifted, the quiver of arrows at his back swishing as he swayed. Evette recognized the bloody dagger in his right hand. It was the blade that had once belonged to Cayden Ramsey, the boy who had attacked her in the woods. In his left hand, was Evette's sword, the dusty blue gems at the cross-guard reflecting the light of the bright stars.

Evette stood, her fists held out in front of her as she dodged the man's first attack. He swung her own sword at her, swiftly lunging in her direction. She was surprised to find that he moved so swiftly, though his body was decaying.

"Where is my necklace?!" Immanuel grunted, his blue eyes bright and lively.

"I don't have it!" Evette yelled.

"You are a liar. I told you to find it for me, and you have failed." He growled.

The ground shook vigorously; both Evette and Immanuel lost their balance, falling to the ground as they shared a vexed glance. The quake was stronger when it struck the second time, and while the stench of death captured her senses, a hint of fiery smoke lingered. It was hard to tell where it was coming from, and Evette was too distraught to be able to consciously think of the reasons why smoke had begun to travel toward the forest from the east.

"Is it true? Was it your own creation who bested you?" Evette taunted, standing on wobbly legs as the earthquake passed.

The Maker silently stared at her for a moment, lifting the sword and dagger as he stood.

"You have met him," He barred his teeth, pale bone peeking out over his gums. Evette was frightened, but mostly concerned. Narcisse lie breathing on the ground, his hand weakly clutching his side. It was all happening so fast. "You have looked upon his face." He realized as he stalked forward, thrusting his sword in her direction, daring to pierce her dark skin.

"We share a common enemy."

"And who might that be?" He aimed for her throat, violently waving both of the blades in his possession toward her.

"The man from his stories. The one who has come from another dimension."

Immanuel grew angrier as he continued. "He has told you lies." He murmured, but there was something in his eyes that was not convincing. He was the liar. He was the one who had turned Evette into the being she was, fierce and immortal, and she could not forgive him for that. For turning her into a monster that she felt no one would truly love—except for Narcisse of course.

He lunged once more, and Evette seized her opportunity. She reached out and sent a flying fist in his direction. The dagger in his hand was pushed into the air as she knocked it away from him, glancing up as the shiny, blood coated blade was brought back down by the pull of gravity. Reaching out just in time to grab it, she gripped the viscid handle as she spun on her heel, barely slicing his forearm.

It was odd for Evette to be fighting such a creature as Immanuel. While powerful, he restrained himself, aware that if he used his powers, the elven body he possessed would wither away completely and die, as his soul was otherworldly. She swung at him, but each time she pierced his skin with the blade in her hand, she wondered if her brother was in there somewhere. If he could feel the sting of the cuts she delivered to his pale skin that seemed to lightly glimmer with blue light.

"Prove it then! Give me a reason to believe you!" She could never trust him, not after what he had done to Narcisse. Not after she realized who he truly was.

Eurora must have been an unruly place for the Maker to have wanted to escape from it, but then again, he himself was unruly and dark. Eve wondered why he had fought so hard to remain in the existence of humans and elves. Perhaps it was because there were worse things in Eurora, creatures that not even he could control. Dark, savage beasts, that he chose to run away from. The thought that perhaps even a spirit like Immanuel feared something greater, made her wonder if he was as fearless and cruel as Dracul made him out to be. Narcisse was a strong man, one who had been wicked in his dealings, but Eve knew that he still felt fear. He was a living, breathing, human, who's heart had yet to fully turn to stone. If Immanuel was anything like him, then his soul still had a chance to return to the light. The spirit and the wolf, two men burdened by immoral notions.

Metal sang as the ground shook, heavy, burdensome smoke growing thicker as it drew closer. Evette felt her heart skip a beat, and wondered if she would draw her last breath before night's end, her own father's sword being the weapon that Immanuel would use to destroy the girl he had turned into an angelic demon. He could not help himself. His emotions fueled each of his actions, and the day he had stared down at her from the battlement in Tigerstar, was the day he had created his first untamed beast. He had created a few angels, and he had created numerous demons, but he had never once fused their power, and placed it within the vessel of a single elf.

Neither of them let up. They fought— a sword, a dagger, two sets of feet, and two sets of fists colliding as they came to blows. It was bloody, and raw. Evette rattled his cage, earning his best advances. He was faster, and in some ways smarter. More clever in his tricks.

He smiled when he forced the dagger away from her grasp, the blade touching down to the ground as it fell, blood dripping onto the fallen leaves beneath it. He gripped Evette's arm, forcing her to her knees once he disarmed her. Immanuel lifted the heavy silver sword to her throat, and pressed it hard against her skin, his other cold hand pulling at her hair.

"He was my greatest creation. The most beautiful creature I had ever seen. He turned against his own creator. He stole the power I once held. My sorrow is reflected in his eyes, as my anger is in yours. I have greater plans; greater power that I have mastered. All I need is a weapon, one that will destroy him." He whispered into her ear as he forced her to stop her wriggling, the long blade in his hand pressed against her throat.

"Where will you find such a weapon?" Evette bit out, careful to not move an inch. The odds were against her, yet hope still grew in her chest, filling her up in what were seemingly her last moments.

A strident roar echoed across the sky, loud and sharp. Evette shivered, her eyes wide as she searched for a beast amongst the sky. The night was free of gloomy clouds. Lightening did not burden the sky, nor rain, nor snow.

"It will find me." He looked into the sky, watching as black smoke stretched across the horizon. The ground shook beneath his feet, and in the brief moment that he loosened his grip on the hilt of the sword in his hand, Evette forced it away from her throat, the sharp edge of the sword instead slid against the right side of her face, leaving a long cut that stretched from her brow to her top lip that would surely scar. She was lucky it did not catch at her eye, or she would have been blinded by the cool steel.

Evette ran from Immanuel after she slithered out of his grip, leaving him to chase after her. They had gotten away from Narcisse, as they were caught up in their short skirmish. She fell to her knees beside him, tears falling from her eyes, mixing with the blood that slid down the side of her face. She wasted no time, and grabbed Narcisse's body, groaning as she pulled him up, her arm muscles burning with soreness as she lifted his weight. She forced her wings to unfurl at her back, and before Immanuel could stop her, she ascended into the air.

Her hands slid against Narcisse's back, his blood spilling out over her torso as she pulled him closer. She rested her head against his, barely relieved to know that his heart was still weakly beating.

The beat of her wings were fast, yet her heart beat faster. Evette held Narcisse in her arms, glancing down at the man who stood on the ground. He could no longer reach her, though she knew he could if it was not for his mortal body.

The tops of the trees cast a billion shadows over the forest floor. She could see the long dirt road from the place where she hovered in the sky. They had gotten away from the area in which the underground had collapsed, and had rested in a large patch of shrubbery near the road that they had once travelled on. To the west, was Drogen, and to the east, was Tigerstar. She flew high enough to be able to faintly see both kingdoms, and each town between them.

Yet another tremor shook the earth, and though Evette had ascended into the sky, she could still feel the rumble. She could hear the roar that echoed from the east, and swallowed thickly when she realized where the smoke that filled the sky was coming from.

Evette gripped Narcisse tighter, afraid she would accidentally let go of him. Bolts of violet lightening crashed in the sky above Drogen, thundering toward the center of the sky far above her head. Smoke clouded the heavens in the east, as flames rose toward the sky in Tigerstar. They met in the middle, colliding in a vision of otherworldly beauty. The shrill of a dragon erupted in the sky, and Eve watched as a creature ascended from the ground, opening its mouth to hurl flames at the highest tower in the far east. It had destroyed her homeland, tore it apart by unleashing flames that devoured the land, the town, and the people. The castle she had known all her years was gone. Destroyed by the colossal dragon that tore through the brick of the walls with its white claws. White scales covered its body, pale and iridescent. Evette could see the cinders that covered its large feet, jagged and prickly.

The stomach of the dragon was paler than the rest of its body, barely showing, though a baby grew in its belly. The scarred flesh at its chest was thick, and it puckered over the area where its large heart beat beneath its skin. Where a cellshard arrow had pierced its heart. Eve had been shot by the same arrow, except, she had been affected by it differently. Evette could not see its eyes, as she was too far away from her homeland. Its wings stretched twice as wide as her own, and thick with extra skin. Calloused and hardened.

The sight of Quill was shocking. Evette felt her blood run cold as she watched the dragon set fire to the land. She realized that the tremors that shook the earth had been caused by the chaos. The sky was illuminated by the light of the flames, and the bolts of lightening that inched closer. Droplets of rain began to fall from the sky, gently touching Eve's skin as more thunder boomed. It washed away the blood, momentarily distracting her from the image of the fire in the east, and the blue-eyed man who stood on the ground far beneath her.

Immanuel stared up at Evette, his watchful eyes studying her movements as she flew away from the area where they had fought. He scowled, slinking through dark shadows so he could follow her. She settled over a clearing, hovering as she laid eyes on the living weapon he spoke of. The gentle fall of the rain turned harsh after a moment, pouring down over the tree tops until the water trickled down to the ground, the hardened dirt turning to mud. He held Evette's sword in his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist around the hilt angrily. He had found the sword and dagger in the woods, once abandoned by their owner. He closed his eyes, his body shivering as rain soaked through his clothes. He smiled as he lifted his right hand, placing it over the sword in his left. He conjured a weak magic—its color a vibrant blue—and attached its energy to the silver blade. His right hand turned to a blackened claw as the magic ate away at his mortal body. Immanuel sacrificed the hand of the body he possessed just so he could have one good shot at Evette. He gripped the sword in his left hand and held it up, the sharp tip facing the sky as he took aim.

Evette had not noticed Immanuel standing in the center of the clearing, and as he threw the sword in his left hand, it quickly flew through the air, piercing the base of her right wing, viciously severing it. She cried out as pain spread throughout her whole body, blood spewing from the place where her wing was once attached. She fell from the sky, the sound of cold, bright lightening crackling across the night as flames vitiated the eastern lands. The mortal world partly condemned to the brutal fate of shadow and death.

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