Page 148 of Ashes of Aether

I don’t breathe as I press my fingers to her neck. I wait for a moment and then another, but I feel no pulse.

“Eliya!” I shriek, shaking her shoulders.

Her limp head lolls with the motion.

“No,” I gasp, clutching her cheeks. They are still warm, but I feel them cooling with every passing moment. I cradle her head. “No, no, no. Wake up, Eliya. Please wake up.”

No matter how much I shake her, no matter how much I plead, she does not stir.

There’s no visible wound. She almost looks asleep. I tell myself that she is. I refuse to face the alternative. That I failed to save her. That I came too late.

The heavens weep. Rain drizzles over us both. Drops splatter onto Eliya’s unmoving face, and they flow down her cheeks like tears. A wind blows over us, and it turns my drenched fingers into ice.

“Don’t leave me, Eliya,” I rasp. “Please don’t leave me.”

Somewhere in the far distance, chaos rages on. Deep in the back of my mind, I know I should return to Archmage Gidston and help her and the other magi and adepts defend the Arcanium against the hordes of undead, but grief shackles me in place.

All I can do is clasp Eliya and rock us back and forth, whispering her name until my voice breaks. My lips move of their own accord, calling her in an unspoken prayer.

I don’t know how long passes. Time ceases to exist. There is only Eliya and me.

Soon the city falls silent and still. The streets become as lifeless as Eliya’s body in my arms.

Maybe the undead were defeated. Or maybe Nolderan has fallen. Right now, I don’t care which. All I want is for Eliya’s eyes to flutter open. For her to laugh and tell me that everything will be fine.

I wait, and I wait. But her eyes never open. She never laughs.

A painful sob racks through my body. I clasp my mouth to stop the sound from escaping.

Footsteps echo from the adjacent street. Voices follow.

Hisvoice.

“Have you searched the Lower City?” Arluin growls.

“Yes, my lord,” a man replies in a crisp voice. “There was no sign of her.”

“You searched every street?”

“Indeed. We did.”

There’s a pause.

“I want her found,” Arluin says. “Alive.”

The footsteps quicken. They grow louder as they draw nearer.

My pulse races.

At any moment, Arluin will turn the corner and find me huddled here at the end of this street. And when he does, he will snatch Eliya from my grasp and desecrate her like he desecrated my father.

He must not find me. Or Eliya.

I could try teleporting away, but I don’t know where I can run that he won’t find me. And I would leave a trail of aether dust behind. Then he would know that I was here.

I also cannot run. There’s only one exit, and it would lead me straight to Arluin.

Instead, I focus on the surrounding stone walls and craft them carefully in my mind. I replicate every bruise and scratch inflicted by time and weather, and when my painting is perfect, I release my magic.