Pirin braced himself for one more impact. He clenched his teeth and activated the Fracturenet, strengthening his form as much as he could.

Lord Three threw his arm forward, and the technique flew off his hand. It struck Pirin in the side of the head. Heat and cold splashed across his face, and the world whirled as he spun. He tumbled back along the ledge, then crashed into Gray with such force that the wall behind her shattered.

Half of his vision was dark, and he could barely breathe, let alone think. He probably screamed, but he couldn’t hear it. He forced himself to maintain the Whisper Hitch. For Gray.

In an instant, everything fell dark.

~ ~ ~

When Pirin awoke, he laid on a plane of blank whiteness. The walls were white, the floor was white, the sky was white. There was no horizon, only a uniform glow.

He groaned and rubbed the side of his head. He could barely move, even in this…vision, wherever he was. He couldn’t see out his left eye, and the left side of his face burned. The flesh was probably missing, but he didn’t dare touch it.

He gasped and coughed for a few seconds, until finally, he regained control of his breaths. His lungs wheezed. There were holes in them, and a rib or two had punctured inward. Every breath took all his concentration.

No. Not all. The Whispere Hitch was still active. He could still hear himself breathing.

The white void throbbed in time with his breaths. If such a shade could fluctuate, it did. Maybe it was getting brighter. He couldn’t tell.

Then something warm poked his shoulder on the left side. The intact shoulder. A…finger? It squished like a finger.

He forced his head to swivel. On his left side, kneeling beside him, was a young woman with silver hair and pink eyes. She was maybe a few years younger than him, and wore a dress made of twigs and leaves.

A gray wing of feathers sprouted from behind each of her ears, just like Pirin’s Bondmark.

“You…would do this all for me?” she asked.

“Gray?”

“I…suppose that’s my name.” Her voice was soft, and with each word, it fluttered, almost like when a bird tweeted.

“Where are we? Why are you…like that? How?”

She spread the corners of her lips and shrugged, then tilted her head to the side. “The dragon is gone. I overwhelmed it. I needed to. There was no other way. If you’d go this far for me, then I had to do the same. I…don’t know how. It’s like…I took in a slice of its soul, but completely integrated it. It’s all me.”

Pirin held up his hands. If the Whisper Hitch was truly active, he could get a better idea of what was happening just by looking at it.

But his hands were empty.

“Pirin, I think you’re inside the Whisper Hitch,” Gray said. “By the Eane, it’s weird to be speaking. Speaking? Am I? Or am I just passing intent? Speaking, speaking, speaking…is there another way of saying it?”

“Inside the Whisper Hitch…” Pirin gasped. “No. I projected my consciousness into your soul. When I went unconscious with the Whisper Hitch. We’re in your soul.”

“It’s…empty. Am I stupid?”

Pirin sighed. “No, Gray. It’s just blank. For the first time, it’s your own soul.”

“Huh.” She stood up and turned around. “The shape of a woman, then. That’s odd…”

“The soul has a preferred shape, an excellent shape, and you are kinda sharing an elf’s spiritual system. We’re almost men.” Pirin took another laboured breath. “Gray, if I’m unconscious…”

“We need to do something.”

“Pirin, I’m sorry.” Gray scratched the side of her head. “I…shouldn’t have let the dragon-wraith get such a hold.”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“You didn’t have a choice. It was my fault. I should be the one apologizing.”

“No. I…I dunno. I was feeling weird. Left behind, almost. You had Myraden, and Göttrur, and now a country to look after. Then weavelings. I…let myself slip, a little, let it fade away. I told myself you didn’t need me anymore.”

“Gray, if I could, I would die to protect you.”

“I…see that now. Which is why I’m sorry. Now it’s my turn to save you. Something’s coming over the mountains. Is that…the Featherflight? I think I can make it.”

In the void, Pirin couldn’t see what she was talking about, but he trusted her vision enough.

“I’ll need a distraction,” she said.

“I’ve got one last Shattered Palm in me. And Lord Three is exhausted. Even if he could, I’ve worn out his Essence. I don’t think he could catch the Featherflight right away, even if he wanted to.”

“Then it’s a plan!” Gray jumped up and pumped her fist. Quickly, though, she pulled her arm down and pointed a finger at Pirin. “Don’t die. Don’t. Or we’ll both fall, and you’ll really die. Die for good.”

“I think I’m gonna have to deactivate the Whisper Hitch to get out of here,” Pirin said. “You’ll feel my wounds.”

“It’s not real. I can take it.”

“Can you fly?”

“I can flutter the distance.”

“Alright.” Pirin nodded, as if to reassure himself, too. “I trust you, Gray.”

But now, he had to pull himself out of this vision. He concentrated on his external breathing and deactivated the Whisper Hitch, holding his breath. The white void crumbled away into dust and wisps, then flowed away into the recesses of Pirin’s mind. Outside the blank void, only a second had passed, maybe less.

Pain redoubled in his mind, reminding him of his damaged arm and scoured half of his face, of his laboured, wheezing breaths and the holes in his lungs. He coughed, choking out blood, then, with a heave of his one working arm, flipped himself onto his stomach.

Are you ready? Gray asked.

Pirin didn’t have the energy to respond. She’d know what he meant.

He unleashed one more Shattered Palm at Lord Three. Specks filled Pirin’s vision. They concentrated at the edges, swirling like black snowflakes. Nausea boiled up in his stomach. He choked it down.

The Shattere Palm caught the Unbound in his shoulder, and though it didn’t fling him over the edge of the mountain ledge or rip his flesh off his bones, it made him stagger. His eyes burned with fury, and he lunged toward Pirin.

Before he could arrive, Gray jumped back and fluttered her wings, creating a strong gale and pushing back against the Unbound. Then, she gripped Pirin’s body gently in her talons and fluttered off through the mountains. With each wingbeat, she lost height, and her feathers ruffled unnaturally, but her blank black eyes squinted with determination.

Wait. Her eyes were back to normal.

The dragon-wraith was no more.

Pirin clung to that hope, keeping himself conscious and aware of his surroundings. It was a weird angle to fly at, and the slight tilt made blood flow to his head, before spilling out his wounds and trickling out through the sky. He concentrated his Essence on his wounds, trying to convince his enhanced body to heal them faster.

The blood stopped pouring out, and he could feel his flesh knitting back together, even if he couldn’t see it. But it’d still take days to recover, and he felt so tired. If he could just sleep…

He cast those thoughts aside and concentrated on the furnace in his chest. He wouldn’t pass out until they reached safety.

He concentrated on his surroundings. On the mountain peaks. Concentration. Focus on the rock patterns, the snow, anything to stay conscious. Didn’t work. Farther away, then, on the armies in the Dremfell pass.

The battering ram had worked. The gate lay wide open, and Dominion soldiers poured into the streets beyond. They sprinted up the stairs to the wall, and clashed with the Sirdians and weavelings. They disabled artillery and tore down banners.

Hollow horns sounded throughout the valley, signalling a retreat from all except a few volunteers, who formed a line in the main thoroughfare. They interlocked shields and pointed their spears forward, ready to intercept any who tried to break through and chase the retreating army.

They were a few hours early, but there had still been plenty of time to send messengers away, to clear the countryside, and to save what they could.

Now Pirin just had to live.

Lord Three spun around. He stood on the ledge, his hands poised in a fighting position, ready to fire one more technique at Pirin and Gray and snuff them out.

He had enough Essence for one more blast?

There was nothing Pirin could do, but he still tried to call up the Fracturenet. It sputtered out as soon as he used it. Nothing.

A thud echoed through the valley, then a whistle. A heavy crossbow bolt struck Lord Three in the chest, and though it didn’t pierce his skin, it sent him staggering back along the stone ridge. His technique shot off into the sky.

Then came the thunk-thud of a repeated crossbow reloading. Another twang, another whistle. The bold smashed Lord Three in the chest again, sending him staggering back once more and buying them time.

Pirin craned his neck. The Featherflight rose up between a pair of mountain peaks. Brealtod stood on the upper platform, using the repeating crossbow, and Alyus and Nomad held the wheels steady in the gondola. The cargo hold doors were open.

Gray made one last push, swooping under the airship and rising up into the cargo hold, then dropped Pirin on the platform. A greenblood technique shot by beneath them, ripping off the cargo hold doors.

The airship swung around, turning into the wind, and ballast poured out from the front canisters. The ship lurched up into the sky.

At his full strength, Lord Three might have been able to chase them, but not when he’d been spending Essence for a day straight.

They’d escaped.