Burnt Devotion (Imdalind, #5)

“The closest safe house is above the clock about ten kilometers to the north. Stay close, but if you get separated…” Ilyan paused, the tension in the cave swallowing the temporary joy as if it had been waiting in the shadows the whole time. “Just make it to the clock.”


Everyone nodded once as they began to break into groups. Wyn moved to Ryland, Thom to Dramin and Sain. It was the same grouping they had adopted for most of our trek through the dark, the bonds forged in hundreds of years or months of surviving that had driven them together.

Ilyan pressed me against him once more, the warm palm of his hand running down my bare arm as he stepped back to the crack in the door, toward the light that seemed noticeably darker. The crowd’s noises lessened.

My body already longed for him as he stood a few feet from me, his back tensing for a moment before his hand wrapped around the massive iron loop. The ancient groan of handle and hinge echoed through the cage as if it was a monster that had been roused from its sleep. I almost expected the thing to erupt into a nightmarish creature as the groan only grew. Ilyan’s magic coaxed it along as the door began to swing open, flooding us all with blinding light as the stone itself bent to Ilyan’s will and allowed us enough space to pass.

We stood in the bright bath of warmth and light, the tattered group of survivors mere steps from our next destination, from the next leg of the war we had to win.

Wyn sucked in breath as the door opened, her eyes flashing with panic before she glanced to me. A mischievous grin tried desperately to meet her eyes, but it didn’t quite make it. It stayed on her lips, the two Wyn’s colliding in the middle.

I looked at her, struck by the humor of yet another silent goodbye before she grabbed Ryland’s hand, and her magic surged through the cave. I was sure she was shielding herself from view, even though the simple magic didn’t seem to work on me. It never had, after all. I guessed there wasn’t any reason for it to start now.

Wyn looked stoically forward, her jaw set in that powerful determination she had been trying to hide from me before she ran from the cave and into the courtyard before us. She and Ryland were followed by the already concealed Thom, Dramin, and Sain.

I stared after them all, past the door and into the courtyard that was so bright it could have been the afterlife for all I knew. The haloed shapes that moved and laughed through the stone space could be nothing more than angels.

It was strangely beautiful—the way the sun moved through the clouds and shone brightly over the blissfully ignorant people that moved through the ancient square. I was sure it would have been beautiful no matter what time of day or situation, but seeing it for the first time, combined with the flood of memories that flowed off Ilyan like a river, it actually felt like home.

Like I had known this space all along.

Ilyan said nothing as he grabbed my hand, leading me into the antiquated place. Then the groan of the iron doors closed behind us so loud I was surprised no one turned to look. It was like they hadn’t even heard, something which I was sure was far more than likely.

With my feet slipping on cobblestones as I tried my hardest to take everything in while keeping with Ilyan’s pace, my eyes moved from place to place like little ping-pong balls as Ilyan led me through the ancient square—the old stone houses, the antiquated carvings above each door, the old fountain that stood on the other end of the courtyard. I wished we could get closer to it. I wanted to inspect the medieval animals that spouted streams of water from their mouths, but Ilyan plowed ahead, taking us into a dim alley, following right behind Wyn and Ryland who looked to be running. Not that I blamed them.

Even though I had been so absorbed by the city, by the happiness of Ilyan’s memories, I could still feel the heavy beat of my heart. I could still feel the worry that raged through Ilyan. I could still see the vivid images of my sight.

I picked up my pace as Ilyan did. His hand tightened around mine as we moved farther into the dark and around the corner that Wyn had disappeared behind only moments before.

The alley stopped in an abrupt line of light and dark, the towering buildings falling away as we moved into a wide street with the same cobbles lining the road. Nearly identical rows of apartments grew from the dirty stone street as if they were no more than planted flora. They stretched to the sky, the dimming blue tinged with red from the setting sun. It almost felt claustrophobic, as though the buildings were falling round us, enclosing us away from the golden light of dusk.

It was then, as the light from the setting sun broke in golden flecks over the red shingled eaves of the houses, that the world broke out in screaming.

I stopped running before Ilyan did, my blood flaring in memory and magic as the Drak in me awakened, as the sight replayed itself as though someone was fast forwarding through an old home movie.

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