"I told you," I say, my voice steady despite the fire in my lungs. "A father."
The word gives me strength as I drive my sword through his chest, angling up beneath his ribs to find his heart. His eyes widen in disbelief as I push the blade deeper, bringing our faces close enough that only he can hear my final words to him.
"He was never yours. He belongs to her. To me. To himself."
Light fades from Vorrak's eyes as I twist the blade, making certain. His body slumps to the floor, the dagger clattering beside him. For a moment, the chamber is silent except for my ragged breathing and the steady drip of my blood onto stone.
Then a small sound breaks the stillness. I turn to find Erisen emerging from behind the throne, his golden eyes huge in his small face.
"Domno?" His voice trembles.
I drop to my knees, partly from weakness, partly to meet his gaze. "I'm here, little one. I'm here."
He throws himself into my arms with such force that pain explodes through my battered body. But I don't flinch. I hold him close, breathing in the scent of his hair, feeling his small heart hammering against my chest.
"We're going home," I whisper against his temple. "To your mother."
"You're hurt." His small fingers trace the edge of a wound on my shoulder, leaving smears of my blood on his skin.
"It doesn't matter."
And strangely, it doesn't. The pain seems distant now, secondary to the fierce protectiveness that fills my chest as I lift Erisen into my arms and carry him from the chamber of death.
The stronghold is chaos, servants flee in terror and the few remaining guards don't seem to know what to do. I have to slash a few down, but it doesn't take long for me to make my way to the stables, where ornate carriages stand ready for Vorrak's use. Ironic justice in stealing one to take Erisen home.
I settle him gently on the plush seat, wrapping him in a cloak from the carriage to hide his fine clothes—the last traces of Vorrak's claim on him. My wounds scream as I climb in and urge the elegant zarryn into motion, but I push the pain aside. There will be time for weakness later. Not now. Not until he's safe.
The journey back to Velzaroth passes in a blur of pain and determination. I manage to address my wounds, enough so that I don't bleed out or get an infection. Erisen stays close beside me, his small body pressed against mine as if afraid I mightdisappear. Neither of us speaks much—there are no words for what we've survived together, what we've become to each other.
As we approach the abandoned temple where I left Esalyn, I see light flickering through the trees—a campfire blazing outside the crumbling structure. My heart thunders against my ribs as I slow the carriage, muscles screaming in protest as I draw back on the reins.
The moment the carriage stops, Erisen is scrambling down, his small boots hitting the ground running. He tears across the clearing toward the fire, toward the slender figure who rises from beside it like a spirit materializing from smoke.
"Mama!" His voice breaks on the word as he throws himself into her arms.
Esalyn catches him, dropping to her knees as she clutches him to her chest. Her entire body shakes with sobs as she covers his face with desperate kisses, her fingers tracing every inch of him as if to convince herself he's real.
"He saved me, Mama," Erisen's voice carries clearly in the night air, his words tumbling out in breathless excitement. "Domno fought everyone. The bad men tried to hurt him, but he wouldn't stop. He said I was his. He said he would die for us."
I remain in the carriage, watching them cling to each other, feeling like an intruder on their reunion. Esalyn's eyes lift to find me, tears carving clean paths down her ash-dusted cheeks. Even in the firelight, I can see the awed disbelief in her expression as she holds Erisen close, her son's words confirming what she never dared hope—that someone would risk everything for them.
Something shifts in my chest at the sight of her tears, her fierce protectiveness mirroring my own. I've never belonged anywhere, to anyone. But watching them, I know with bone-deep certainty that I would bleed out a thousand times to keep them safe.
I step down from the carriage, my legs nearly buckling beneath me. The wounds across my body scream in protest, but I force myself forward, one boot in front of the other. Each step feels like walking through deep water, resistance pushing against my every movement. The firelight catches the blood still seeping through my torn clothing, but I don't care how I look. All that matters is the woman and child before me.
Esalyn's eyes never leave mine as I approach. Her face is a battlefield of emotions—relief warring with fear, joy with uncertainty. She holds Erisen against her chest, fingers tangled protectively in his dark hair, but she doesn't back away. Doesn't turn from me.
"You're hurt," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Badly."
I stop a few paces away, giving her space. "It doesn't matter."
"You're covered in blood."
"Most of it isn't mine." A lie. I can feel the warmth running down my side, pooling in my boot. I guess I didn't stop all of it.
Erisen wriggles in her grip, turning to face me. Despite everything he's witnessed, his golden eyes light up. "Domno killed the bad men, Mama. All of them." He makes a slashing motion with his small hand. "They tried to hurt me, but he wouldn't let them."
Esalyn cups his face, examining every inch as though searching for injuries. "Did they hurt you? Did they touch you?"
