Chapter 37 THE VEIL BETWEEN BREATHS
Chapter 37 THE VEIL BETWEEN BREATHS
Nyra didn’t realize she was running until the cold tore at her throat like broken glass.
The obsidian corridors of the Undervault seemed to rearrange themselves as she sprinted, torchlight trembling against walls carved with old grief. Every few steps she felt her heartbeat stumble too fast, too heavy mkstill echoing the shock of what she’d heard.
Aric’s heart is failing.
Elyndor’s words had ripped through her like a blade. Even now her mind rejected them, tried to reshape them into something else, something less devastating. But the truth kept returning in sharp pulses.
Aric had been wounded by the Hollow King’s curse weeks ago. She remembered the moment clearly: the way he pushed her aside, taking the full force of a blow meant for her. At the time, it looked like just another scar he would carry with that quiet, uncomplaining strength.
But the curse had been eating through him like slow fire.
And he hadn’t told her.
Nyra’s lungs burned. She slowed only when she reached the ironbound doors of the war room and shoved them open so hard they banged against the walls.
Aric stood inside.
He turned at the sound, his expression softening as it always did when he saw her. His dark hair fell messily over his brow, his armor still dusted with ash from the outer fields. He looked tired—more than tired yet he straightened instantly.
“Nyra? What happened?” He moved toward her, concern tightening his jaw. “Did the shadows breach the wards again?”
She stared at him.
At the man who had fought beside her, bled beside her, held her through storms both real and emotional. The man who carried the dragonfire in his veins as though its weight were nothing. The man who kept giving every piece of himself without looking back.
And the man who was dying.
A tremor ran through her fingers.
Aric’s brow furrowed. “Nyra…?”
She swallowed hard. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
There was no need to clarify. His eyes flickered—guilt, then resignation.
“Elyndor told you,” he murmured.
“Yes.” Her voice cracked with fury she didn’t know how to control. “He told me because you wouldn’t. Because you thought you could hide something like that. Aric, your heart”
“I know.”
Her breath hitched. She hadn’t expected him to say it so simply. She hadn’t expected him to look so calm, so heartbreakingly gentle.
“I didn’t tell you because you’re already carrying too much,” he said quietly. “The bond, the prophecy, the army, the Hollow King’s approach”
“That is not your decision!” she snapped, voice echoing against the stone. “You don’t get to choose what I can carry. You don’t get to choose what breaks me.”
Aric flinched. And that was somehow worse than if he’d lashed back.
He stepped toward her again, but she moved away, fingers gripping the edge of the map table to keep from shaking.
“When were you planning to say something?” she whispered. “When your heart stopped in the middle of a battle? When you collapsed beside me and I blamed myself forever? When the curse finally ripped the life out of you?”
He closed his eyes.
And when he opened them again, the truth in them was unbearable.
“I thought I could hold out long enough,” he said. “Until we found the relic. Until you were safe. Until the realm was safe. I wasn’t supposed to be the one you worried about.”
Her chest tightened like a vice.
“You idiot,” she breathed. “You impossible, infuriating idiot.”
Something in Aric broke at that not in weakness, but in the quiet way a fortress cracks when the person guarding it finally realizes they don’t have to do it alone.
He reached for her again, slower this time. “Nyra… I didn’t want this to change anything.”
“How could it not?”
A silence full of pain stretched between them.
Finally she exhaled, the anger dissolving into a raw ache she couldn’t hide.
“Come here.”
He hesitated.
She grabbed his wrist and pulled him into her arms.
For a moment he stood stiffly, as if afraid she would shatter. But then he folded into her, leaning his forehead against her shoulder, breath uneven. She felt the tremble he tried to suppress, felt the rapid thumps of his cursed heartbeat—too fast, too erratic and the fear inside her sharpened into something fierce and burning.
“I’m not letting you die,” she whispered fiercely. “Do you hear me? I am not losing you.”
His breath hitched against her neck. “I don’t want to leave you,” he said in a voice so fragile it terrified her. “Not now. Not ever.”
Her hand curled into the back of his tunic.
“Then don’t,” she said. “Stay. Fight. Let me help you.”
“You already have,” he murmured.
“Not enough.”
A beat of silence.
Then she pulled back, cupping his face. “Tell me everything. Now. No more hiding.”
Aric swallowed. “The curse is burning through my heart faster than Elyndor expected. Every time I use my gift, the damage accelerates.”
Nyra stiffened. “How long do you have?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
“Aric.”
He looked away. “Weeks. Maybe less.”
The floor seemed to tilt under her.
She grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. “No. No, that there has to be something”
“There is,” he said softly. “The Relic of First Flame. It’s the only thing that can purge a curse of this kind. But it’s not just a relic, Nyra. It’s a living ember from the dragon ancestors. It requires a sacrifice.”
Her pulse stumbled. “Whose?”
His silence again was devastating.
“Aric.”
“I wasn’t going to let you be the one to do it.”
She stared at him, disbelieving. “Sacrifice… what do you mean?”
“The ember consumes life to heal life,” he said. “To purge the curse from me… it would take the heart of a living dragon-bonded.” His eyes met hers, dark and full of sorrow. “It would take your heart, Nyra.”
A chill gripped her soul.
“So you planned to die,” she said hollowly. “To keep me from being the sacrifice.”
He nodded once.
Her knees nearly gave out.
“Aric…” She took a step back, feeling as if the world had cracked open beneath her. “You can’t You can’t ask me to live without you. You can’t decide this alone.”
“I’d rather die than watch the relic kill you,” he said hoarsely.
“And I’d rather die than let the curse kill you,” she shot back.
They stared at each other two impossible choices, two impossible hearts tangled together.
Finally Aric reached out, brushing his thumb against her cheek.
“I love you, Nyra.”
She froze.
The words were quiet. Unadorned. Real.
Her heartbeat stumbled, then steadied fierce, unwavering.
She took his hand. Pressed it over her heart.
“Then don’t say goodbye,” she whispered. “Not now. Not ever. We find a third path. Together.”
His breath caught.
“You really believe there’s another way?”
“I don’t believe.” She leaned her forehead against his. “I know.”
For the first time in days, something like hope flickered in his eyes.
A knock slammed against the war room door, breaking the moment. Elyndor rushed in, eyes wide.
“Nyra. Aric. The Hollow King is moving. His armies just crossed the Shadowline. We have hours at most.”
Nyra straightened, fire returning to her veins.
“Then we move too,” she said. “Prepare the vanguard. Ready the dragons.”
Aric took her hand, gripping tightly.
“We’ll face him together.”
She squeezed back. “A
lways.”
And as they strode out of the war room side by side, hearts raw but aligned the final war began to stir around them.
The end was coming.
And they would meet it as one.