He blew out the candle lamp. His elongated pupils reacted to the loss of light instantly, lengthening and widening, adapting like a cat’s to the tent’s dark interior. That much of him, at least, still worked as it should.

Naked, his skin glowing silver in the dark, he glided on silent feet towards the sleeping pallet. Ellysetta pulled back the coverlet and when he crawled in beside her and lay down, she scooted closer, snuggling against him and putting a hand over his heart. The instant her skin touched his, the tension in his body began to fade. Her love and concern washed over him, enveloping him in a haven of peace and comfort. With just her touch, she calmed the crying madness in his soul and filled the cold, empty places inside him with light and warmth.

His arms closed around her, holding her tight. “I was afraid I’d lost you,” he confessed in a low voice. “When I saw you slay that Mharog.” Even the memory of it made him shudder.

She pressed her face against his throat. “I thought I’d lost you, too. It didn’t matter what happened to me then.” Her voice became nearly inaudible as she added, “Or so I thought.”

He brushed her soft, curling hair back off her forehead, stroking the smooth satiny skin. “What do you mean?”

Her teeth worried her lower lip in a moment of indecision. “I never really knew what true Darkness was until I stabbed that Mharog. As vile and depraved and malevolent as the Mage is, comparing him to the Mharog is like comparing a deep Shadow to a world utterly without the smallest glimmer of light. I’ve never felt anything so unrelentingly, consumingly evil.”

She pulled back to look up at him, and her eyes were bleak with remembered horror. “I felt his soul, Rain—or rather the void that exists where his soul once did. It’s a bottomless, Light-eating abyss. His only pleasure comes extinguishing the Light of others in the most brutal ways possible, because Light, in all its forms, has become anathema to him.”

Skin to skin, he could feel her distress as if it were his own. She was genuinely terrified. “Put it from your mind, shei’tani.”

“I can’t, Rain. That’s the problem.” Her brows drew together. “For the first time, I truly understand what will happen if I fall to Darkness. I won’t become the Mage. I’ll become Mharog… and I’ll consume every last spark of Light in this world. That’s what Lord Galad was trying to tell us.”

“Nei, shei’tani, you won’t. I won’t let that happen.” He took her shoulders in a firm grip and stared into her eyes as if his own, fervent insistence had the power to convince her. “I promise you, so long as I live, I will not let you fall.”

Her arms twined about his neck, and her slender body surged against his, seeking shelter. He knew she didn’t believe him—if the gods willed she should fall, she would—but for both their sakes, she was as willing to pretend that hope was enough. That together, they could hold the Darkness at bay, no matter how powerful its call.

When the bright sweetness of her essence began flowing into him, he caught her hand in his. “Nei,” he said, though he savored the stirring pleasure of her selfless gift. “Keep your strength for yourself, shei’tani.”

“But you are weary.” She pressed kisses against his throat, and where her lips touched, more bright golden warmth flooded his skin.

“I will be fine.”

“Aiyah, you will.” She agreed in a throaty voice. Her lips curved against his neck. “I will see to it.” Another heady rush of sweetness shot through his veins.

He should have refused her. She’d already given him more strength than she had to spare. But if tomorrow’s dawn was to be their last together, he wanted sweet memories to take with him beyond the Veil.

His hands stroked the soft coils of her fiery hair then down her satiny skin to cup one small, perfect breast. “Fellana, I am yours. Do with me what you will.” And he surrendered to her lips, her hands, her love, letting her pour herself into him as he poured himself into her. The richness of his tairen song rose in his throat and he sang the shining, wordless notes on weaves of Spirit, wrapping them in wild beauty as she wrapped them both in the vast, deep power of her love.

Later, much later, when she slept in boneless exhaustion by his side, he lay awake, staring at the ceiling of their tent as it rippled in the breeze off the mountains.

He’d never been a Fey who spent much time in prayer. Before the Wars, he’d never truly appreciated the many blessings of his life, and afterwards, he’d held a bitter grudge against the gods and their whims. But now, on the eve of a battle that, despite his encouraging words, promised almost certain death for them all, Rain closed his eyes and, before he let sleep claim him, sent up a simple, but fervent prayer.

Please, gods, grant me time enough to finish this. Time enough to make her safe.

Eld ~ Boura Dor

“Master Maur!” Primage Kron, commander of Boura Dor, rushed to greet the purple-robed High Mage of Eld. “Welcome to Boura Dor, Most High. It is an honor beyond measure to have you join us.”

Vadim threw back his hood and cast a cold silver gaze around the central command room deep in the heart of the subterranean fortress.

“Yes, well, some tasks are too important to leave to underlings. Vargus,” he turned to the elderly Primage who had accompanied him from Boura Fell. “Set up the tracker.”

“Most High.” Primage Vargus bowed and moved towards the central table to weave the spell that would allow the Mages to track and activate the chemar.