Chapter 87: Onwards
I stand up slowly, every muscle aching, the cold biting at my exposed skin. I’m thankful truly thankful to be alive, but there’s a simmering heat under my ribs that I can’t shake. Rage, disappointment, relief all tangled together. I failed to kill that son of a bitch. I got close, closer than anyone in a thousand years apparently, but in the end, she escaped and left her poison inside me. The crack in my soul aches, a reminder that the battle isn’t done. If anything, it’s only just begun.
I can feel the link with Lucian in my mind now strange and new, like a door between us that can be opened or closed with a thought. The sense of him is there, right at the edge of my consciousness, we can’t read each others minds but the idea of someone able to forcibly inject themselves into my head fills me with disdain, I’ve had enough voices in my head to last several lift times.
I look around at the survivors, at what’s left of House Apophis. Zaria’s face is streaked with dirt and blood, but her eyes are as calculating as ever. Lucian is standing a little apart, rolling his injured wrist, but he meets my gaze with a nod. Rye is huddled in on herself, arms wrapped tight around her thin frame, staring at the ground. Imara is limping, favoring her left leg, but her jaw is set in that stubborn way that says she’ll keep moving even if it kills her. Dominick stands beside her, his hands clenched his shirt torn at his stomach. Niko is nursing a broken arm, his face pale but determined. And Vihaan has a nasty cut on his forehead, blood drying in a crust beneath his hair. He tells me he was launched into a tree like a rag doll. Ouch.
"Has anyone seen Elijah?" My voice comes out rough, almost a growl. The others look up, startled. I rack my memory, fighting through the haze of pain and adrenaline, and I remember: the moment everything went to hell, Elijah vanished using his mark to cloak himself but after that I lost track of him.
Rye shakes her head, wiping a tear from her cheek. "No. I haven’t seen him since... since before." Her voice is small, almost lost in the wind.
Imara shrugs, her lips pressed tight. "Nope."
Dominick grunts, shaking his head. Niko just looks away, his eyes haunted. Vihaan, frowning, glances at the sky as if expecting Elijah to drop from the clouds.
Sadness tugs at me, a sharp ache behind my ribs. Elijah was always quiet, always slipping away when things got bad, but he wasn’t a coward. He was just... careful. I want to believe he’s alive, hiding somewhere, waiting for the right moment to return. But after what we’ve seen, what we’ve survived, hope feels like a dangerous luxury.
I crush the sadness before it can take root. There’s no time for pity, no time for regret. Crying for the dead wont bring them back. We aren’t safe. We aren’t done. The Academy is still forever away, across a treacherous mountain range and every one of us is battered, bleeding, exhausted.
Vihaan speaks up, his voice low. "We need to rest. Find food, shelter. We can’t move like this."
Zaria nods, her eyes flicking to me. "He’s right. We’re no good to anyone if we drop dead from hunger or cold."
I realize, with a start, that I haven’t eaten since the proctors fucking teleported us here. My stomach growls, sharp and hollow, and the world wobbles for just a second. I grit my teeth and nod. "Let’s move. We’ll find somewhere safe, get warm, and then figure out what’s next."