After the Rift

The last thing Eila remembered was the earth beneath her, damp and cold, before her world turned to black.

But warmth greeted her before she fully regained her senses—warm hands, rough and calloused, cradling her face; the soft hush of voices whispering her name.

Her lashes fluttered open to a dimly lit tent, the scent of pine and musk filling the air. She blinked away the fog in her mind, only to find Leonard, Lukas, and Zois crowding her view. Their eyes, usually sharp and commanding, were laced with unmasked worry.

Leonard's palm was resting on her forehead, as if checking for a fever, his brow creased in frustration. Lukas sat by her side, gripping her wrist like he was ensuring her pulse didn't falter. Zois hovered at her other side, his hand clasped tightly around hers.

"Eila, finally," Leonard whispered, his voice hoarse, "you scared the life out of us."

Her throat was dry, her body heavy, but she managed a faint smile. "I closed it," she rasped, "the rupture… it's gone."

Zois's eyes flashed with pride and anger all at once. "You could have killed yourself," he snapped, though his grip on her hand remained gentle. "You didn't have to face it alone."

"I didn't intend to," she murmured. "It… called me. I couldn't stop."

Meanwhile, Leonard's mind spun, still haunted by the image of her crumpling to the ground after the rupture had sealed.

When he had heard the commotion—the shouts of warriors seeing Eila collapse—he had bolted faster than his mind could process. He barely remembered ordering Lukas to gather the healers and Zois to clear a path. The only image burned into his mind was her small, unmoving form against the earth, her skin pale, her magic drained.

You will not die on me, he had thought, panic thick in his veins. He had cradled her in his arms, calling her name again and again, shaking her lightly, desperately.

When her pulse fluttered under his touch—weak but steady—he had finally let out a ragged breath, half-collapsing with relief.

Now, watching her wake, her eyes clearer, he couldn't stop himself. He leaned down and pressed a firm, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Don't ever do that again," he muttered, his voice tight with emotion. "Not without me beside you."

She chuckled weakly, "You'd just get in the way."

Lukas rolled his eyes but smirked. "She's not wrong."

Their banter masked the raw fear they'd all felt, but none of them truly laughed.

"I'll fetch some water," Zois said, reluctant to let go of her hand but knowing she needed it. He left the tent quickly, brushing a hand over her hair before he went.

"Eila," Leonard said, his thumb stroking her temple, "you did something incredible… but I swear if you risk yourself like that again, I'll chain you to my side."

She smiled tiredly. "You'd enjoy that far too much."

He chuckled despite himself, tension easing just a bit from his shoulders.

When Zois returned with water and Lukas propped her up gently, Eila sipped it gratefully, feeling a bit of her strength return.

"Rest now," Leonard said firmly. "No arguments."

"But—"

"No." This time Lukas added his voice too. "We'll deal with everything else later. Right now, we just want you alive."

Eila nodded, exhaustion taking hold of her again. She surrendered to it, comforted by the warmth of her mates surrounding her, their scents grounding her even in sleep.

Outside the tent, the camp was still abuzz. Warriors whispered in awe of the girl who had sealed the rupture with her bare hands. But Leonard stood at the entrance, watching the quiet night, one hand resting on his sword, the other curling into a fist.

If Jeremy Soren dares come near her again, he thought darkly, I'll burn the entire forest to ash before he lays a finger on her.