Chapter 67 - Limits, Desperation, Plans, and Success

  It was Ryn’s turn.

  The final part of Lilia’s plan.

  How pathetic.

  If their theory was right, there was no way the beast would die from a single strike of Ariel’s light. They suspected it was a faded, and it hadn’t yet revealed its uniqueness.

  If it had died that easily, then they’d been overestimating it.

  The creature roared.

  Smoke still hung thick in the air, rolling low across the ground as it began to rise again.

  But they’d been right.

  Ryn’s role was cleanup.

  A lot had changed since Solvara’s destruction. There was a time when he never would’ve allowed either of them to suffer like this. He would’ve taken everything onto himself. Shouldered it alone.

  He shook his head as he stepped forward, boots crunching over scorched stone.

  That wasn’t possible anymore.

  He wasn’t strong enough.

  The prince had proven that.

  So had the loss of his arm.

  So had everything since.

  Who was he to pretend he could still play the hero?

  His duty hadn’t changed.

  Protect Ariel.

  It had been that way from the very beginning.

  And if Lilia had found a way to make that possible, if she shared the same goal, then he had no right to stand in the way.

  He glanced down at his remaining arm.

  He couldn’t protect all three of them alone.

  They needed each other.

  That was the truth of it.

  That was how they survived.

  It was their failure to rely on one another that had led them here.

  If they’d listened—really listened—things might have turned out differently.

  So he would try.

  Try a little harder to place his trust in them.

  And he hoped Ariel would do the same…

  But that could wait. For now, for these few precious minutes, there was only one thing he needed to be.

  Ryn pushed his dark hair back from his face and stepped forward.

  Smoke curled around his boots as he came to a stop, standing face to face with the ruined form of the aberration as it dragged itself upright once more.

  His body ached. His arm burned.

  But his resolve didn’t waver.

  For now—

  He would continue to play the role of the princess’s knight.

  ***

  The aberration had been severely weakened by Ariel’s attack. Its movements were slower now, unsteady, its once-imposing bulk reduced to something almost ragged.

  But the hunger in its eyes remained.

  That was something Ryn had noticed.

  Outside the trial, the aberrations had treated Ariel as their sole target—drawn to her light, her presence. But in here, that wasn’t the case.

  Here, all of them were prey.

  He stood face to face with the creature, close enough to see the damage clearly. Its lizard-like visage had been burned away, flesh charred and peeled back to reveal bone beneath. One eye hung useless in its socket, the other fixed on him with furious intent.

  It didn’t hesitate.

  The creature lunged.

  And Ryn moved to meet it.

  The creature’s claw tore through the air where Ryn had stood a heartbeat earlier.

  He slipped to the side, blade rising in one smooth motion, and slashed across the creature’s forearm. The strike bit deep between warped scales. The limb jerked back with a howl of pain.

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  It’s slow, he realized.

  Slower than before.

  The blast had done its work.

  Ryn didn’t give it time to recover.

  He surged forward, boots finding purchase on the creature’s uneven scales as he leapt up its side. His sword flashed again—quick, precise—driving into a joint at the shoulder. The arm went slack, hanging uselessly as the creature screamed.

  It tried to twist, to bring its bulk around—

  Too late.

  Ryn kicked off its back and landed hard, already moving. He darted in low, slashing at the hind leg. Tendons snapped. The limb buckled, dragging the creature down with a furious crash.

  The ground shook.

  The aberration thrashed wildly, jaws snapping, tail smashing into the dirt, but every movement was clumsy now, uncoordinated. It was bleeding green, its strength leaking away with every roar.

  Ryn’s arm burned, the muscles in his lone remaining limb screaming as they strained to compensate for what was no longer there. His breathing came harsh and ragged; he’d pushed too hard, moved too fast.

  But the creature was slower. That was all that mattered.

  Ryn climbed it again.

  There were a few ways to end an aberration.

  Destroy enough of what lets them function, the heart, the brain, the spine, and they stop. Bleed them long enough, cripple them thoroughly enough, and they failed under their own weight.

  Those born from relics returned to what they once were.

  The rest stayed as they died.

  Ryn didn’t know which one this was.

  He didn’t care.

  He sprinted up its back, boots slipping on scorched scales as the creature screamed beneath him. His sword rose and fell in fast, precise arcs, cutting tendons, carving deep into joints, tearing through anything that still moved.

  Each impact sent vibrations up his arm, metal meeting bone, the sick resistance of flesh that didn't want to part.

  The creature bucked violently.

  Ryn leapt.

  As he dropped, his one arm dragged his blade down its spine, the strike ripping through flesh and bone alike. The aberration shrieked, collapsing forward as its limbs failed it.

  It lunged at him blindly.

  Ryn twisted aside, the snapping jaws missing him by inches as his blade flashed across its face, leaving a deep, ruinous gash that split eye and scale.

  The creature howled.

  The ground beneath them answered.

  Roots burst upward in jagged spirals, pale and thick, tearing through stone and soil alike. They lashed out blindly, snapping toward Ryn’s legs, his torso—seeking to bind, to crush, to drag him down.

  One caught him across the cheek.

  So that’s it, Ryn thought distantly.

  Useless.

  He didn’t slow.

  Ryn vaulted over one snapping root, slid beneath another, and drove his blade down again as the creature recoiled. More roots surged forward, but they were wild—unfocused—arriving a heartbeat too late.

  The aberration staggered backward, trying to create distance, trying to breathe.

  Ryn didn’t allow it.

  He struck again.

  And again.

  Steel met flesh.

  Flesh gave way.

  And no amount of borrowed earth was enough to stop him.

  Each slash took something vital. Each cut left it weaker, slower, more desperate.

  By the time it tried to crawl, dragging its ruined body through the dirt, it no longer roared.

  It only rasped.

  By then, the sky was beginning to brighten.

  Ryn had to blink as the six suns slowly reclaimed their light, their glow returning one by one until the field was washed in gold again. Shadows thinned. Smoke drifted away.

  The creature was fully revealed.

  Pathetic.

  Its massive body lay half-collapsed, scales split and burned, limbs twisted at wrong angles. Thick green blood pooled beneath it, seeping into the torn earth as each breath came shallow and ragged.

  Ryn stepped forward.

  Slowly.

  There was no rush now.

  He walked through the settling dust, sword hanging low at his side. The creature’s eye twitched as it noticed him, its body giving a weak, instinctive jerk that went nowhere.

  Ryn stopped just in front of it.

  He raised his sword.

  Sunlight caught along the blade, reflecting sharply off its edge.

  And then he brought it down.

  ***

  Sunlight caught in Ryn’s dark hair as he moved, the six suns burning high overhead once more.

  Ariel lay half-draped against his back as he dragged Lilia beneath him, careful with every step. The ground was warm now, scorched in places, the air thick with the lingering smell of smoke and burned stone.

  “Ryn… seriously. I’m fine. Let go,” Ariel muttered.

  The golden cracks along her arm still glimmered faintly, pulsing weakly with each uneven breath.

  Ryn didn’t answer.

  “Let go,” she insisted again, though her voice had already begun to fray. “I said I’m fine.”

  He sighed quietly.

  “You can’t even move,” he said. “Just let me do this.”

  Ariel muttered something under her breath—something sharp, something stubborn—but her words blurred together. As he walked, her weight slowly slackened, her grip loosening until her head tipped forward and rested against his shoulder.

  Her breathing evened out.

  She’d fallen asleep beneath the golden suns.

  Lilia’s adrenaline faded soon after. By the time Ryn adjusted his hold, her body had gone limp in his arms, unconscious at last. She was heavier now—Ryn’s armor weighed her down, metal pressing into his side with every step.

  Tiring, he thought.

  But he kept going.

  When he reached the temple entrance, he carefully lowered them both onto the stone. Ariel lay sprawled where he set her down, exhaustion carved deep into her features, pain still lingering in the tightness of her jaw even in sleep.

  Lilia curled instinctively into the oversized armor, breath shallow but steady, silver hair spilling across the stone.

  Seeing someone else wearing his armor still felt odd.

  But it had kept her alive.

  Ryn sank down between them, muscles screaming in protest, and leaned back against the temple wall. The stone was warm at his spine. Dust clung to his clothes. His sword lay across his knees, nicked and stained.

  He lifted his gaze to the sky.

  Six suns burned above them—unchanged, uncaring.

  They had won.

  Barely.

  They had survived.

  One day in the trial.