“Miles,” she said, voice sharp with fear she couldn’t hide. “Miles, look at me.”
His body locked against hers, stiff and unresponsive, eyes wide but unfocused. His mouth opened and closed as if he was trying to drink air instead of breathe it, each sound a broken gasp tangled in panic.
He wasn’t crying anymore.
He was drowning.
A bat dove.
Ava twisted on instinct, blade flashing as she slashed upward. The creature shrieked as it fell away, but she barely registered it. Her focus snapped right back to the boy in her arms.
“No, no, no,” she whispered, terror spiking. “Hey. Hey. Stay with me.”
His chest stuttered against hers, shallow and frantic, breaths stacking on top of each other without release. His hands clutched weakly at her jacket, fingers trembling as his body started to shake.
Too much air out. Not enough in.
She felt it in her own lungs, her breath trying to match his.
If she didn’t slow him down, he would pass out.
If he passed out, he could stop breathing entirely.
Or his heart could give out.
The thought nearly shattered her.
“Miles,” she said again, louder now, forcing his face up. “Buddy, listen to me. You need to breathe with me.”
Another shadow dropped.
She stepped into it, sword driving forward as she shoved the bat aside with her shoulder. It clipped a tree and vanished, screeching.
Her attention snapped back instantly.
“Hey,” she said, voice breaking. “Hey. Look at me.”
His eyes flicked, glassy and distant, barely registering her face.
He gasped again, a harsh, tearing sound that scraped her nerves raw.
Panic flooded her chest.
He’s going to pass out.
She pressed her forehead to his, grounding herself through the chaos, forcing her own breath slow and deep despite the screams and wings overhead.
“Okay,” she whispered. “We’re going to fix this. Just me and you.”
Another bat swooped close. She turned just enough to slash it away, blade biting deep, then immediately returned her focus to him.
“Breathe in with me,” she said softly, demonstratively pulling a slow breath through her nose. “In. Just like that.”
He didn’t follow.
His body trembled harder, gasps coming faster, weaker, as spots bloomed behind his unfocused eyes.
“No,” Ava whispered, dread clawing at her throat. “Don’t go. Stay with me.”
She shifted him higher against her chest, one arm iron-tight around his back, her other hand cradling the side of his face despite the blood slicking her fingers.
“Listen to my voice,” she pleaded. “You hear me. You always hear me.”
His lips parted again, a thin, broken cry escaping instead of air.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Her heart slammed. It didn’t matter how many bats she killed if she lost him like this.
She leaned in, voice low, steady, forcing calm into every word even as fear screamed through her veins.
“Okay,” she said. “We’re going to breathe together. Ready?”
She took an exaggerated breath, slow and deep.
“In.”
She held it, letting him feel the rise of her chest against his.
Then slowly let it out.
“Out.”
Again.
“In.”
Her hands shook as another bat dove and she kicked it away without looking.
“Out,” she whispered.
His next breath hitched. Then pulled in slightly deeper. Not enough, but more than before.
Ava clung to that tiny victory like a lifeline. “Yes,” she murmured desperately. “That’s it. Just like that. Stay with me.”
Above them, wings screamed and metal roared, the battle raging on.
But Ava barely heard it.
Her world had collapsed down to one terrified child in her arms, gasping for air, and the terrifying truth pressing in on her chest.
If she didn’t calm him soon, the bats wouldn’t have to kill him. And that was something she refused to let happen.
Miles’ breathing finally caught.
Ava felt it against her chest, a deeper pull of air that didn’t collapse halfway through. His body sagged just enough to tell her he was still there.
“That’s it,” she whispered fiercely. “That’s it. You’re breathing.”
His eyes focused for a heartbeat.
Another breath followed, rough but fuller, then a broken sob.
Ava sagged with relief, forehead brushing his hair.
“I’ve got you,” she murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Something hit her from behind.
Hard.
The impact ripped the air from her lungs and sent her sprawling. She hit the ground with a sharp cry, her grip breaking as her short sword skidded away into the dirt.
“Ava!”
Miles’ scream tore free again. It wasn’t the frantic panic from before. It was raw. Endless.
Ava dragged herself onto one knee, pain flaring through her ribs.
“Miles,” she gasped. “Hey. Stay with me.”
Across the clearing, Kyo flinched at the sound, his chest tightening.
That scream cut too deep.
“Kyo,” Broderick said beside him, voice steady and mechanical. “Advisory. Your condition is compromised.”
Kyo shook his head, teeth clenched.
“I hear him,” he said hoarsely. “I’m not leaving this blind.”
Pain lanced through his body as he planted his feet. His vision swam. His hands shook.
His eyes burned.
Then flashed silver.
He lifted one hand, breath hitching.
“Just the fog,” he whispered.
Broderick angled his body slightly, not blocking him, not commanding.
“Suggestion acknowledged,” the wyrm replied. “Controlled output advised.”
Kyo coded.
// ENVIRONMENTAL_ADJUSTMENT : FOG_DISPERSAL
// CASTER: KYO_IZEN
vector wind = new Vector();
wind.direction = RADIAL_OUT;
wind.intensity = MODERATE;
wind.duration = SHORT;
environment.apply(wind);
The air surged outward, a firm rolling rush that shredded the fog without throwing anyone off their feet. The mist tore apart in ragged sheets, revealing the clearing in stark detail.
Miles’ scream rang out, sharp and piercing in the open air.
Everyone turned.
Baxter brought his hammer-headed mace down in a brutal arc, crushing a bat mid dive. Bone snapped. The creature hit the ground and didn’t get back up.
Ace spun at the same moment.
“Sable!”
A massive bat dropped out of the air, claws raking across Sable’s side as it yanked her off balance. She yelped, the sound sharp and pained, before Ace fired and the creature screeched away, crashing into the dirt.
Ace was beside her instantly, hands on her flank, jaw tight as blood soaked into her fur.
She growled low, teeth bared, trying to rise despite the injury.
“Easy,” Ace muttered, keeping pressure on the wound. “I’ve got you.”
Baxter planted himself between them and the swarm, mace swinging in wide, punishing arcs as he drove the bats back one by one.
Broderick lifted his head, optics locking forward as the last of the fog cleared.
They all saw it.
Ava on one knee, blood on her face, one hand braced against the ground.
Miles a few feet away, screaming her name, voice cracking with fear as he staggered toward her.
And in front of Ava stood a dark elf.
A red tag hovered above his head, glowing vividly in the night.
Anthony.
