Gaffriel 45

I made a split decision, and my first instinct said to leap. Niala struggled in their grasp, wrestling by her clutched arm. They smelled like Wildling, but nothing else. Though they claimed to be sentinels, according to their uniforms, that meant nothing. After what Rolyn said earlier, the Sentinels owed us no favors.

My instincts paid off, I guess, when they took rough light. They reeled from a sickening loss of mana from me having tacked myself on. Disoriented, I stumbled, not recognizing our location before a hand grabbed the side of my head. A moment of weightlessness and a shock of pain blossomed behind my eyes as my head slammed into something. Wildling swears spat around me.

“Fuck! I told you only her!” a muffled female voice said as Niala screamed at the top of her lungs. She struggled—fists swung.

“He tacked himself on last second. We didn’t notice.” A male voice responded.

“Should we kill him? He’s lowborn trash anyway?” another asked.

“Ni,” I managed to breathe out. Lights kept flashing behind my eyes. My face felt wet. Tears? No. I couldn’t move my head. Blood. My jaw hurt.

“No. They’re compatible. I’ve seen their fires meld. We’ll just do a two for one special,” the female voice said, and I recognized Rolyn. Her Anil always sounded clammy and strange; her agreeable aura simmered in the air.

“F-nucking.. bitcsh…” I managed to growl out as I struggled. Finally, a foot came over me, stomping down right on my Ikris.

Niala still struggled. She sounded like an animal when she screamed. Instinct had me flinching at the sound of it because Niala never let her anger get that far out of control, not since she turned eight or nine.

“HER TEETH ARE SHARP. FUCK!” someone shouted. I heard blood splatter the floor. Harsh swings and the rip of Kevlar against a knife sounded unmistakable. “GET HER OFF ME.” More footsteps and shuffling bodies sang out. I tried to sit up, everything spinning. Sentinel guards were big, and Niala had multiple of them struggling.

A noise rang out against metal walls. The scuffle of soldiers trying to deal with her catlike grace and rage overpowered the shrill visceral screams she released. It hurt my ears, cracking off metal and shrieking. It sounded like two voices from the same throat, not any creature I’d heard before. Then, all at once, the screaming stopped.

“SUTZ MIN AL, LITTLE CANNIBAL!”

I heard the sound of ripping fabric and more screams from the guards—the dull thuds of a body being thrown sounded out a rich rhythm, slamming against metal walls. My limp form went next, plucked from the ground and slung like a sack of flour. I hit the floor and tumbled, hitting something warm and crumpled.

“Ni,” I wheezed. She laid still. Something slammed. Sounds and smells faded out in an instant.

My hands struggled to grasp around her. Then, I found her face, her head, and moving my arms, I pulled her to me in a panting huddle. I curled against cold metal and tile, looking around. But, my vision went fuzzy and empty, just static. I felt like something slipped away from me; it hurt to breathe. I couldn’t save us.

I could feel her pulse. She was alive, and that’s all I could ask for. But, unfortunately, I couldn’t hold onto her, and my breath floated away from me. It was okay, though.

She was alive.

She—alive.

Alive.