Chapter 56 Will She Come Back?
Rayne's POV
Brandon pushed himself up from the floor. He had been knocked down against the wall with Brea. He got to his feet slowly at first, then faster as he looked at his sister lying there.
His eyes moved to the spot on her chest where my palm had struck. The realization hit him hard.
“You drove your hand into her chest!” he shouted, his voice filled with anger. “You killed her!”
He was no longer controlled. The skilled fighter from before was gone. He charged at me from behind, fists and elbows hammering down wildly.
The dark current burst out of him in uncontrolled waves, burning my skin with every hit. “Get the hell away from her! Don’t you fucking touch my sister!”
I stayed crouched over Brea, ignoring the blows. Her eyes had already closed and wouldn’t open.
“Brea…” My voice cracked as the memory slammed into me...my own hand punching through her chest like a monster. “Gods, what have I done…?”
I grabbed her face with both hands, fingers trembling. “Open your eyes. Right now. Please.. open your eyes!”
Something was pulling at me from inside, from the bond that had formed between us the night I pushed my blood into her to save her from the Dreadborn venom.I had saved her life that night.
My blood had taken root in her and kept her here. Now the same thing was dragging me down with her. Her heartbeat filled my ears..always louder than anyone else’s, always closer.
I had never understood why until this moment. It was dropping. Slowing. Each beat arriving further from the last.My Energy left my skin in visible streams.
“No… no, not like this,” I choked out. Gold vapor poured from my skin in desperate streams. My strength was vanishing faster than I could hold it.
I had never been weak in a thousand years. Now my hands shook violently as I pressed them against her sternum, right where the wound still bled.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered fiercely, voice breaking. “I’m so fucking sorry, Brea. I didn’t know… I didn’t mean to”
Brandon’s strikes had stopped. He dropped to his knees beside her, grabbing her hand. “Brea! Wake up right now, damn it!”
There was only a terrified boy looking at his sister. Then my legs gave out.. My hands were on the floor now trying to hold me up and they were shaking and I had never shaken in a thousand years of existing.
I had thought I was protecting a girl. Standing there in the Enclave corridor with my strength. He was staring at Brea on the floor. Everything conditioned gone from his face. Just a boy looking at his sister.
"She came here for me," he said quietly. To himself. Like he was only just understanding it. "She came through the walls for me."
He dropped to his knees beside her.
"Brea." His voice cracked completely. He grabbed her hand with both of his. "Brea wake up. Wake up right now." His eyes were wet with a tight jaw "Why isn't she waking up?"
He looked at me with pure hatred and desperation. “What the hell did you do to her? Fix it! You hear me? Fix her!”
I looked at her chest. At the blue light, barely there her soul wasn't just leaving. It was drifting back into the dead zone. The void between spaces she had used to get here. The rift pulling her back through the same door she had come through.
If that light went out the body swap mechanics would sever permanently. Two empty shells. No way back for either of us.
“Her soul is caught,” I said weakly. “Between here and the rift she came through. It can’t find its way back on its own.”
“Then get it back!” Brandon shouted. “You owe her that much, you bastard! After everything.... you don’t get to just let her die!”
I coughed. Silver blood pooled on the floor beneath me. I looked at it, then at Brea’s still form.
"The dagger," I rasped. "Black blade, matte, drinks the light. Dark leather hilt with silver runes that still have a faint pulse. You’ll feel it… it doesn’t feel like normal steel. Find it. Give it to me."
Brandon glared at me for a long second, chest heaving, clearly fighting the urge to hit me again.
Then he scanned the floor, spotted the dagger, and snatched it up. He shoved the hilt into my hand roughly.
“Here. Now do something!”
I cut my palm in one swift motion. The dagger parted my skin far too easily, hungry for the blood. I pressed my bleeding hand flat against Brea’s sternum, right over the wound.
“I’m going to stitch my core into her,” I said. “All of it. Give her soul a beacon to follow back through the rift.” I met Brandon’s eyes. “If it works, I won’t be what I was. But she’ll live.”
The facility shook violently. Dust rained from the ceiling as the containment vats along the wall cracked open, dark fluid spilling across the floor. The automated voice echoed through the corridor:
“Ten. Nine. Eight…”
Brandon’s head jerked toward the collapsing hallway, eyes wide with fresh panic. “My mom is still in here!” he yelled. “She’s somewhere in the lower levels... I know it! I’m not leaving without her!” He started to stand, but I grabbed his wrist with my weakening grip.
“Brandon...it’s too late.”
“Bullshit!” he snarled, trying to yank free. “Let go of me! I can still reach her...I have to try!”
“You won’t make it to the lower levels and back before this place comes down,” I said, voice fading.
“Listen to me. Brea risked everything. She came through a rift, through hell, just to get to you. She wouldn’t want you throwing your life away for a chance that’s already gone. She wouldn’t want to lose you too.”
Brandon froze, breathing hard. He looked at me with pure loathing, then down at Brea’s pale face. His whole body trembled with conflict.
“You think I give a damn what you say?” he spat. “You’re the reason we’re even in this mess! You probably don’t even care if my mom dies!”
“Seven. Six.”
“I care what Brea would want,” I replied quietly. “And right now she’s slipping away. If you run, you lose her forever. Both of us do.”
Brandon’s jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. Tears cut clean lines through the dust and blood on his face. He looked torn apart one part still wanting to kill me, another part desperate to run for his mother, and the biggest part breaking at the sight of his dying sister.
“Five. Four.”
“God damn you…” he whispered hoarsely. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “God damn you.” He dropped back down hard beside us, one hand still gripping Brea’s.
“Do it,” he choked out, voice barely audible. “Save her. Just… save her.” I drove the dagger into the floor beside Brea. The transfer started gold light running from my palm into her sternum.
“Five. Four.” The blue light in her chest flickered. Steadied. Flickered again.
Brandon’s grip tightened on my shoulder. “Three.” I pressed harder. Closed my eyes.
“You were the first,” I whispered, voice barely holding together.
“The first soul in a thousand empty years that made me remember what it meant to want someone to live. Don’t let me be the last thing you see in the dark. Come back to me, Brea.”
Immediately, the room went white.