Noah
we follow our own steps
while our shadows keeps watching us
while our shadows keeps watching us
Noah’s body screamed against itself. Every one of his nerves were lit with fire. His palms scraped against stone as he clawed toward Maea, her broken body and the pool of blood she lay in starting to come into shaky focus, blurred at the edges.
He couldn’t let it end like this. Not here, not after dragging her from the sea, not after realizing what she was. What he had done.
Noah tried to stand. His knees buckled, sending him crashing back down on hands and elbows, the stones etching new carvings into his skin that stung in the sea-salt air. The impact jarred his skull, black spots exploding behind his eyes like fireworks. His stomach twisted again, but he swallowed the burning bile back and dragged himself forward. His fingers closed around Maea’s wrist, the bones frail beneath cold skin.
He pulled her with him, body shuddering as though it might split apart, dragging her limp weight across stone toward the fountain’s edge. He thought of Cordelia—how he hadn’t been able to save her. He thought of all he had lost to dragons, and how, by some twisted design, Maea was one.
He couldn’t lose her too. Not like this.
With the last of his strength, Noah half-lifted, half-shoved her into the pool.
He collapsed against the rim, cheek smacking to the wet stone, with a solid crack that send his chest heaving and head spinning with pain. His fingers stayed tangled in her dress, refusing to release her. “Maea…please.” he whispered, voice cracked and small. Noah trembled, teetering on the edge of collapse.
He wished he could pull for the thread within him, to pull Vi’s power to renew the vigor and life within Maea, to sew skin and sinew back together. But it was gone. He knew it was gone, and for the first time since it happened, Noah wanted it back.
He couldn’t let it end like this. Not here, not after dragging her from the sea, not after realizing what she was. What he had done.
Noah tried to stand. His knees buckled, sending him crashing back down on hands and elbows, the stones etching new carvings into his skin that stung in the sea-salt air. The impact jarred his skull, black spots exploding behind his eyes like fireworks. His stomach twisted again, but he swallowed the burning bile back and dragged himself forward. His fingers closed around Maea’s wrist, the bones frail beneath cold skin.
He pulled her with him, body shuddering as though it might split apart, dragging her limp weight across stone toward the fountain’s edge. He thought of Cordelia—how he hadn’t been able to save her. He thought of all he had lost to dragons, and how, by some twisted design, Maea was one.
He couldn’t lose her too. Not like this.
With the last of his strength, Noah half-lifted, half-shoved her into the pool.
He collapsed against the rim, cheek smacking to the wet stone, with a solid crack that send his chest heaving and head spinning with pain. His fingers stayed tangled in her dress, refusing to release her. “Maea…please.” he whispered, voice cracked and small. Noah trembled, teetering on the edge of collapse.
He wished he could pull for the thread within him, to pull Vi’s power to renew the vigor and life within Maea, to sew skin and sinew back together. But it was gone. He knew it was gone, and for the first time since it happened, Noah wanted it back.
the wrong steps
would be not to start this exodus.
would be not to start this exodus.
