hat woman, or whatever she was, charged through the air so fast my eyes couldn't register her movement. The next thing I was aware of was that she was inches away from me. But I was faster, both in magic and body, adamant walls protecting both Leon and I's minds from the shocking surge of power trying to break into us. My claws were a breadth away from tearing her awful eyes—Leon's already shredding her left shoulder—when she stopped in place.

Her stares kept on sliding between us, her grin growing wider to the point her entire face swirled. She stepped back, skin pale and fluorescent. I only dared a stare at her body, attention remaining on her mind—her most dangerous weapon. Small, thin branches trailed scarcely around her collarbone, intensifying around the swell of her breasts, hiding completely the glowing skin under a thick mesh of twigs and wood and small, peeking leaves as though clothing her. This coverage lessened on her navel, showing a pregnancy bump, the skin so pallid I could make the shadow of the infant growing in there, before the threads of wood wrapped her again fully and pierced in the ground like she had surged from it.

"What do you want?" Aedis hissed, dark smoke curling around his shoulders, ready to attack at his will.

The demon placed a hand on her stomach and I could swear the infant in there stared at us through skin and flesh. There was something completely wrong with this demon; there had been nothing about such specie not in books or research or hunts.

She tilted her head furthermore, her skull falling on her shoulder, her neck cracking as she did so. "I thought you were all dead." Gods above, her voice trailed chills down my spine. My blood turned colder than it already was. My stomach churned and hissed. Her smirk turned even more sinister. "I wasn't mistaken when I saw you jump in that horde." A laugh. "That man's words are true then, that you fled from the castle."

I didn't flinch as she stepped closer, claws only growing as long as daggers. She clicked her tongue, the mass of wood groaning as it trailed on the earth. I repeated Leon's question, body going rigid as she took his face in her hand, squeezing it as she studied it.

"But there is something different about you two.'' Her tongue slid out, split like a snake's as she sniffed Aedis.

"Something more powerful than I ever imagined." Her nails dug into Aedis's scar, black blood trailing down from the small wound she left. I snarled but didn't attack. It was too risky, too reckless. We were on the same line now, and unless she tried ending us, it would break our lie if we killed her, especially since she seemed to be on strong connection with our traitor.

At last, she turned to me, tongue licking the blood on her fingers. I tensed. Not at the simplicity of the action, but because she studied the black liquid in her mouth. Because she stared at us and knew that there was one drop of blood that was not supposed to be bright and pure.

"I want to feed." Her hands rested over her child, nails scrapping her skin until the veins, visible through her pale skin and flesh, were black and throbbing with magic. "He is hungry."

"You can't feast on us," I hissed, staring her in the eyes, my mask cold and well woven. "Windreapers aren't preys; we are hunters. And unless you don't get out of our way, I will make sure to gut your son in front of your eyes before I end you."

She shrieked, her black, stiff hair surging to life, crows birthing from it with a screech. All it took was a dance of Aedis's shadows to have them rendered to dust.

She eyed him, the fingers she'd licked pointed at him, magic still trying to barge in our minds. "Liars," she snarled. "You are small, pretty liars. I am young but not foolish. We, born from the River of Death, know what true evil is." She circled us, her tongue running over her lips then her razor teeth as her hand still pointed at us.

"And you are not Windreapers." She laughed again. "You are my preys."

She darted again, form dissolving, the branches and twigs pulled out of the earth. Her lower half was nothing but shadows as she launched at us, her cat eyes erupting in smoke. I was as swift as wind as I dodged her attack before I docked beneath her, twirled around, and was steady behind her, blood dripping from my claws.

She sucked in a breath that was heavy and pained, her lower body forging back as her hands fell on the torn flesh of her navel. Thick, dark green liquid seeped from the gush, falling in drips and pooling around her. The she-demon trembled as she turned to me, to her son that was not bigger than an apple in my grip, two claws piercing through him. She cried in fury and rage and agony, hands tearing the unborn child from my fingers.

It was death in her eyes as she stared at me, body stained as she cradled her son, rocking him with shacking arms and whispering broken words. Smoke curled out of her mouth as her lips quivered before it entered through the small body in her hands. When it got out, it was both black and crimson, the lighter color pulled from the fetus's soul. She inhaled it all. And then, he was on the ground, falling with a thud that echoed through the woods and accompanied the screech of the crows getting out of her hair.

"I warned you." There was a feral coldness in the voice and tone I used.

She knew we were not real demons, but that deadly outer was not faked. There was no remorse for killing that child within me, not a flicker of guilt. He was one monster amongst many others, all destined to die—be it children or women or old ones. They were corruption. They were chaos. And the youngest they were, the more deadly they could grow.

Blood was pooling in her mouth and falling in streaks from both corners, more gurgling as she spat, "You do not kill a Drakal's son—a rider of Death—and live to see the following sunrise.''

She was swallowed with darkness, black and cold magic swirling around her with hisses. She attacked once more. But I didn't budge from my place. Something ticked within me, something I remembered at the mention of the Drakals. My guts twisted.

She was a hair's breadth away from my face, razor teeth pointed at my throat, when she halted, form frozen and floating above ground. Her eyes returned to their normal state, unfocused and cold as they were still pinned on my face.

There was a strangling sound before Leon—who was standing right behind her—pulled the hand that had pierced through her coverage and chest. A greenish stream surged from the gap right where her heart was. Her eyes darted to me, head slowly tilting so she took in Aedis and then her dead son, each breath thinner than the previous.

Even when on the gates of death, even when her soul was being torn to shreds, she still found the strength to snarl and swear at me—at us.

Her eyes rolled back and she slumped on the ground, body right next to her son. I held Leon's stare and saw how his thoughts were spinning. He walked over the cadavers, arms falling on my shoulders, pressing my head to his chest, right over his beating heart. I didn't mirror the hug, a memory tingling in my head that made my bones shake.

Instead, I cupped Leon's face, one hand on each side, and allowed that memory at Green Leaf's village to drift from me to him. For a moment, we were standing over that cliff I'd once seen in a dream, observing the forges as Oarks created the Drakals, bringing them to live by pouring shadows they'd pulled from the nearby river. The River of Death.

Those monsters—those horrible creatures forged from mortal hands to serve Lysithea and her son—were breeding and bringing more of their specie into our world. They were raising an army; one we wouldn't see coming and that would destroy us with the sheer element of surprise in their hands.

I pulled the memory away, the shadows of our conversation after I'd told Leon what I'd seen as we sat under a tree in the dead of night still playing in the corner of that flicker of the past. There was a soft stroke to my heart as I recalled how he'd surprised me, appearing as discreet as a mouse behind me. How he'd offered me the earrings I always wore until we lastly left the castle.

The Nevorian Lord didn't say a thing, perhaps because there was nothing to say, and held me harder. I didn't know how long it was as we stood in that position before I gently slid out of his embrace and crouched in front of the dead bodies.

I didn't close the woman's eyes; she didn't deserve that gesture, that last connection warriors did to their beloved dead. On the contrary, I had my fingers digging in her temples as I roamed in what were the remaining flickers of her mind.

It took me one swift and sharp surge of power to break her bounder—the magical thread bounding one's soul to Ardoria that remained for longer the stronger the holder was. All along, I altered her memories. Altered them enough so when our traitor—or any of his men—would try to see what happened, he would be confronted by the scenario that she was starving to the point she broke one of the very, very little bounds demons had, and wanted to feast on us. Her death was the result of our defense; the action swift and painful to show just how powerful we'd grown with only six days behind us.

I gave her and the fetus one last glance before I stepped over them, walking with fast strides down our road, trying to catch up the time she stole from us. Those observing eyes were back but even farer than before, their presence nothing but a flicker in the air around us.

Aedis was quick to fall alongside and we both moved with sheer silence. An hour passed, than another, each minute heavy with silence. The woods were growing darker and wider just like my thoughts, every single shadow of an idea making my heart break and shatter.

It was when we reached a small clearing in the woods, a pond rippling gently with the passing winds and stretched proudly in the middle, that I stopped. I took seat on the rock rolled next to the water, the stone biting my skin with its coolness, before I built wall after wall of thick, unperceivable magic around us. No words or thoughts we had would be heard by anyone or anything past us and our Gods.

I stared at the pale face, at the scar running across the one side of it, but didn't deign meet his eyes. For a flicker of a moment, I forgot Aedis. For a flicker of a moment, memories of beautiful, blue eyes flashed in my mind and soul. That flash was enough to drown me, salty waves pulling me under, taking me—owning me. It was with effort and a shaking breath that I admitted, "We need to talk, Leon."

A few heartbeats passed, a strained silence falling between us. My soul was being killed again and again with every breath, my heart trashing so hard behind its cage it seemed to beg to be freed. To be allowed into Leon's hands where it would be safe and cared for. It was both shameful and painful, knowing that he would guard my heart with his life but I couldn't guard his. But how could I, when I was his very destruction?

"We do,'' was all Leon replied with as he made his way to the rock, taking a seat next to me. He had one leg bent, his arms resting on it, the other extended as he sat, facing the water. I turned so I was staring the same direction he did, eyes falling on the dark pool. There was no starlight or moonlight here, the trees too high, the clouds too thick. Only flying fireflies were providing scarce light as they glided over the surface.

There was a heavy sort of guilt kicking my insides as I allowed my mind to seep into Leon's, diving through his thoughts without him even knowing. It felt wrong, to slid into him without asking even when I knew he would give me his consent no matter what. His walls were thick and lofty and well guarded, but there had always been a gate for me whenever I went in, always open and welcoming me inside his core. Inside everything he was. He did want to talk, but not about the thing tearing and feasting on my heart.

So I stared at him and, even though I knew what was to come, and said, "You first."

He blew out air, his breath curling in front of him in white mist before he turned to me. My heart fell to my stomach, a suffocating lump forming at the top of my throat. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could do utterly nothing as I stared at his face. At the real Leon.

It felt like a slap to the face, like a grip that shook me hard. And I felt fire around my heart, chains wrapping it and tightening around it, the hotness searing it.

And those eyes—the ones I loved so much I could lose myself for them—rested on me, wrecking me. His lips moved and for the first second, that voice felt like a dream, like a brush and a caress that awoke me from a slumber heavier than death.

"Why is it that each time I stare at you, the lesser the hope I see in you?"

I wanted to cry, wanted to hold him in my arms so hard until I couldn't tell where my body ended and his took place. I wanted and needed and begged for him…but I couldn't—shouldn't.

I swallowed that lump, the heaviness sliding from my throat to rest over my heart and lungs, crashing them.

And when I replied, I made myself stare at every bit of his face, knowing that I might not see it again, "Because I'd rather go into that war with nothing but despair than sugar-coated lies." I glanced at his mouth, at his lips that were full and soft-looking. Twice, we'd been twice so close to kiss—I had been so close to know what it felt like, what relief and happiness and ecstasy it brought. Maybe, just maybe, it was a blessing I didn't know what it was like.

Perhaps it was a gift that that cluelessness would save me from an undying need and craving.

"Because, Leon, I would prefer facing him knowing that I would die saving everyone I love than face him with the slightest spark of light within me. So if I die, I already expected that end. And if I live, it will be a blessing and a joy and a new opportunity."

The Shadow looked like he wanted to argue, like he was ready to beg that I clang to that hope as desperately as both him and my father did. He didn't, only whispered, "But you saw that light and heard what the Book said—''

And there it was, the tinge of pain in his voice. The fear of that end. The day under the weeping willow came so hard on me, our confession under that tree echoing in my ears.

No.

I steadied my breathing and blinked the warmth forming in my eyes. I was trembling, not from cold, not from fear, but pain. A pain that was raw and new and that shook me entirely.

"Aether himself said to my beasts that it might not work—that this risk we're taking might not be enough. I didn't agree so easily to it so I could live, Leon, but because it meant giving a stronger shot at succeeding.''

Silence. He knew then, that I had accepted my fate, that I didn't try evading it with all I had. He knew that I would give myself over and over if it meant he— and everyone else—would live.

I wished that silence would linger, prayed it would last until the end of time so I didn't have to say what was in my heart. Even the agony shredding and hitting and tearing me was lovelier than the lines drying in my throat. But he let out those dreadful words, each letter stirring something strange within me.

"What do you want to talk about?"

I lost my grip over my tears, the first sliding down my left cheek and to my lips before more followed in silence. My chest was dry and arid, my tongue heavy. I didn't know how I managed the words out of me, how I didn't scream as they evaded my lips. It was my choice. And the very blade that hit my heart.

"Us. I want to talk about us.'' There was salt in my mouth as more tears streamed down, my vision nothing but splashes past that burning curtain. "We can't—''my breaths were shallow, voice breaking as I couldn't finish it. "We can't happen, Leon. We can't keep going down that road."

Being stabbed would have felt more merciful than being greeted with that silence. With those sharp eyes that were broken and void at once. I wanted him to say something—to yell or scream or even burn the place down. I didn't care; I just needed him to react, needed to know he was still here. Needed to save him.

"Why?'' His voice was cold and even, a mirror to his face. But there was something in it, something that Leon Prelius had never shown me or the world before. He hid behind the fortress he had instead of walls, tried swallowing it all, but something different laced his words: a sort of desperation and weakness and brokenness. He was hurt, even under those thick shadows and cloak of mysteries. I could feel it in my very soul. And I knew my magic had nothing to do with it.

"Because I am not worth your love.''

The stripped and bare truth. The reality that had been plaguing me for days now.

His hands were trembling when he placed them on my face, his skin wet because of my tears. He might have been about to argue, might have been about to say anything but I cut him.

"You deserve someone who makes you happy, Leon. You deserve a woman to be with you through it all, to hold your hand through that commitment to the last breath. You deserve more than me."

"What the hell makes you think this?" he asked, pulling each response from my throat with a broken cry.

I searched for his eyes despite the blurriness of my vision, searched for a shelter through the storm I was putting myself through.

"I will leave at the end and you know it—''I shuddered, every bit of me aching under his touch. He had been my fire all along, my shelter and warmth. And now, I was burning him with his gift. "I will never be enough for you. I-I will only break you…I will only leave cinders and ashes of our memory behind me. And I can't live—or die—knowing that I left a wound in you that I would never be able to heal."

He stared at my face, at my eyes, and saw just how dead and void of hope I was. How every bit of it I once held slipped away with every step we took those past days. How there was nothing but a broken soul inside of me.

"You aren't gone, Celestia.'' His fingers gripped my face harder. I allowed myself to savor how my name sounded as it rolled from his tongue, how he said it in a way no one ever did before. "And you are not going to.'' His fingers slipped to my hair, fists full of it as he lowered his head to mine. But Leon was wise and bright-minded and knew how to put a line between emotion and sense. He saw through me, through every reason I had, and perhaps it was for confirmation that he added, "But you are young and it frightens you."

It did. The fact that my magic was unstable, that I was unmated and didn't claim a king yet…it terrified and haunted me.

"If we're meant to be together and I die, I will put you through hell with the feelings we're already growing. And I can't imagine you grieving and in pain and—and…''

And falling just like Nuaira did.