The Viper's Mire was finally behind them, but its poison had left a heavy price. They had found shelter in a shallow cave carved into the side of a jagged obsidian cliff. Outside, the sky was no longer blue; it had turned a bruised purple, swirling with dark clouds that never rained.
Azeal struggled to keep the fire going. His hands were shaking, and his head felt like it was being squeezed by iron bands. But his eyes never left Vaelora. She was lying on a bed of dried moss, her face flushed with a dangerous fever. She was shivering, mumbling broken words from her nightmare in the swamp.
"Azeal... don't go..." she whispered, her hand searching the empty air.
Azeal crawled over to her, ignoring his own dizzying headache. He caught her hand and pressed it against his cheek. "I'm here, Vaelora. I'm right here."
He spent the night dipping a torn piece of his tunic into the last of their cool water, dabbing her forehead. Every time she winced, he felt a stab of guilt. She's here because of me, he thought. Because my father wants a crown, she's rotting in a wasteland.
As the fever began to break towards dawn, Vaelora opened her eyes. They were hazy but focused on him. She saw his pale face, his bloodshot eyes, and the way he was still holding her hand as if his life depended on it.
"You didn't sleep," she croaked, her voice dry.
"I couldn't," Azeal admitted, his voice cracking. "Vaelora... what you saw in the swamp... that vision of me leaving you... you have to know that it was a lie. The Abyss can take my sight, my strength, even my life—but it can never take what I feel for you."
Vaelora reached up, her fingers tracing the dark circles under his eyes. "I know. The nightmare was scary, but seeing you now... it's more real than any palace dream."
Azeal helped her sit up, giving her a sip of water. "We're close, Vaelora. Look."
He led her to the mouth of the cave. In the distance, the horizon seemed to collapse into itself. A massive, swirling vortex of absolute darkness stood between two colossal stone pillars—the Gates of the Shadow Abyss. It looked like a wound in the world, a bottomless pit that swallowed all light. The air around it hummed with a low, vibrating frequency that made their Drazhin wings ache.
Azeal's grip on her hand tightened. He was terrified of what lay inside, but more than that, he was terrified of the secret he didn't even know he was carrying—that the very gates they were looking at might sense the truth of his blood.
"Tomorrow," Azeal whispered, his gaze fixed on the darkness. "Tomorrow, we face the end."
Vaelora leaned her head against his shoulder. "No, Azeal. Tomorrow, we face the future. Together."