He blinks, breaths shallow, erratically raising his bloodied chest. “I knew, I…knew the first time I s-saw you, you w-were going to change everything. Master Gavrik too. Saw it all. Power…streaming…out of you. We b-believe…i-in…y-you. It was a…privilege… to lose… to you.”
“Doran. No. Stay with me,” I whisper, my forehead pressing against his, feeling the dampness of his hair against my skin, the soft, fleeting rhythm of his pulse. “Doran, stay. We’re not done yet. Please, please don’t go. I need you, my friend.”
“Be…the…best…Aquilith…for…me, my funny… brave friend… Keeper of…water. All….I…ever…wanted…to..be…”
I watch him slip away, every fibre of my being pleading for him to stay, to hold on just a moment longer. But his body relaxes, his last breath leaving him like the dying embers of a fire, until he lies still, an unfathomable quiet settling over us.
His hand limp in mine.
No.
No!
“Doran!!!” I scream, the grief hitting me like a tidal wave, hard, fast, drowning me in a single crash. The sobs come, hard and unrestrained, wracking my body. I sit there, unable to move, cradling his lifeless form as my heart fractures into a thousand pieces. The world around me blurs, the sounds of battle dulled to a distant hum, replaced by the unbearable silence where his voice used to be.
He’s gone, and I’m left with nothing but the aching void where he once was.
I hold him, numb and shattered, and the sounds of the battle bleed back into my awareness—a brutal contrast to the silence he’s left behind. Around me, others have stopped, their faces mirroring of my grief, eyes filled with shock and sorrow as they realise what has been lost. Someone reaches out, their hand brushing against his shoulder, and a fierce, protective anger flares within me.
“Don’t touch him!” I cry, my voice raw and fractured. “It’s too late to help him now… and you don’t deserve to touch him.” My words hang heavy in the air, weighted with bitterness and heartbreak, and I clutch Doran’s lifeless form tighter, unwilling to let him go, unwilling to let anyone else near him. I lean down, my voice a broken whisper. “Rest easy, my friend. I’ll keep my promise… I swear I will.” Pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, and brushing the hair off his freckled face, I lay him gently onto the ground. “I’ll be right back. You just rest here, Doran. Everything will be okay.”
I rise, the weight in my chest transforming into a searing, sharp pain that takes over my entire body.
Doran can rest.
But not me.
Fingertips tingling, I scour the battlefield and find my mark.
Before I take another step, Rylan appears, eyes wide with concern, his hands outstretched. “Eirabella. It’s done. Their weapons are gone. We destroyed them. They’re retreating. It’s over.”
I don’t respond. His words are meaningless, hollow echoes against the tidal wave of fury surging inside me. I push past him, my feet carrying me forward with singular purpose.
Mathis reaches for my arm, his expression stricken. “Eira, stop. Whatever you’re thinking,don’t do it.”
Grellor joins him, stepping in front of me. “Think, lass! This isn’t you.”
But I shove them aside, my body moving as if possessed, drawn by the magnetic pull of my fury. I reach the river’s edge, and a tremor runs through the ground as the water begins to churn, responding to the raw force of my magic. The current twists and writhes, a living thing reflecting the storm inside me. It spirals up, higher and higher, the whirlpool dark and vicious, tearing at the sky with a roar that echoes my rage. The wind whips around me, pulling at my hair and clothes, stinging my skin with icy spray.
“You took my friend from me!” I scream, the sound tearing through the chaos, shaking the very air. The whirlpool grows, massive and deadly, its crest frothing with white-capped ferocity. The river strains against its banks, the water thrashing as if seeking vengeance on my behalf. It rises and rises, a column of raw, unstoppable power.
The ground trembles, and gasps sound behind me—warriors and rebels alike turning to witness the force that threatens to consume us all. My breath comes in ragged gasps, the pain in my chest melding with the magic that surges through me, searing and bright.
“You took a soul that was good and pure and light and love! And you will pay!” The whirlpool pulses with each word, growing, expanding, reaching for the battlefield, and beyond. The force of it makes my arms shake, my vision blur.
Fucking being limitless.
I am fury embodied.
I am walking revenge.
“Eirabella!” Rylan’s voice slices through the roar. His arms surround me, pulling me back, his breath hot against my ear. I struggle against him, the magic in me thrumming wildly, resisting his hold. “Stop, Eira. You need to stop,” he pleads, voice trembling with urgency. “That whirlpool—it’s going toreach the town. There are innocent civilians there. You’re going to hurt innocent people!”
I falter, a crack splintering through my rage. The whirlpool quivers, hesitating. The power still rages inside me, blinding and all-consuming, but Rylan’s words dig into me, sharp and relentless. He shifts, turning me in his arms, forcing me to meet his eyes, dark with worry and something deeper. “Look at me.Look at me, Eirabella.” He grabs my chin and forces my eyes to his. “Listen to me, please. He wouldn’t want this. Doran wouldn’t want this. You know he wouldn’t.”
The words strike like a blow, stealing the breath from my lungs. My hands, still raised, tremble as the truth seeps into my bones. Doran’s smile, the sound of his laughter, the warmth in his eyes when he believed in me—all of it clings to me, fragile and aching.
“Eirabella,” Rylan urges, his voice softer now, rough with emotion. “What did I teach you about strength and power? Strength is having the power, and wisdom is knowing when to use it. And this is not the time.” His hand tightens on mine, grounding me. “This... this is not what he would want for you. This isn’t who you are.”
