We made it to the top of the ridge. Two of our horses waited, spooked but still there. I got Gunnar across one saddle on his stomach like a sack of grain. He groaned when I tightened the straps but didn't wake up fully. The bond felt steadier now that I was touching him, but it was still wrong... like a song missing half the notes.
Sunna swung up behind me on the other horse. "The men are saying you swallowed half the valley. Some of them are scared of you now, Elva. They saw what happened to our own guys."
I didn't answer. I just kicked the horse into a trot and kept one hand on Gunnar's back the whole ride. Every jolt of the saddle sent fresh pain through the bond. His breathing stayed shallow. The lightning burn on his chest looked worse up close: black veins spreading out from the print like poison.
The ride back to Ironfang Keep took the rest of the afternoon. We moved careful, scouts ahead, no talking. My body ached like I'd been beaten with clubs. The scales itched and pulled at my skin, spreading slowly down my ribs even though the fight was over. Every time I looked at the two of our riders who didn't make it: one slung over a saddle, the other wrapped in a cloak that sick twist in my gut got tighter.
*You did that. Your power. Not just theirs.*
By the time the keep walls came into view the sun was low and bloody. Guards shouted from the towers. The gate groaned open and we rode straight into the courtyard. Warriors rushed out to take Gunnar. I slid off the horse and stayed glued to his side as they carried him into the main hall and then down the corridor to his quarters.
"Put him on the bed," I ordered. My voice came out rough. "Get hot water, clean rags, whatever healing herbs we have left. Now."
They moved fast. Word of the battle had already spread. Faces looked at me different: some with awe, some with fear. I didn't care. I sat on the edge of the bed and peeled Gunnar's ruined shirt off. The lightning mark looked worse in the lantern light. Black lines crawled across his chest like roots under his skin. His breathing was still too shallow.
Sunna brought a bowl of water and started cleaning the burn. "Merja warned this might happen. The bond took the hit for you. If he hadn't anchored you when the power exploded…"
"He'd be fine right now." I finished the sentence for her. My hands shook as I pressed a wet cloth to his forehead. "And some of our own men would still be alive."
Sunna didn't argue. She just kept working.
Hours dragged by. Night settled thick outside the window. I stayed right there on the bed, back against the headboard, Gunnar's head in my lap. The bond flickered every few minutes like a candle in the wind. Sometimes it steadied when I ran my fingers through his hair. Sometimes it almost went out completely and panic clawed up my throat until I felt his next weak breath.
Matthías limped in around midnight, arm in a sling, face bruised to hell. "Elders are gone. Retreated all the way to the old mill again. Lost maybe a hundred and fifty of theirs. We lost twelve." He looked at Gunnar and his jaw tightened. "He gonna make it?"
"He has to." My voice cracked. "I'm not doing this without him."
Matthías nodded once, then left us alone.
I talked to Gunnar in the quiet. Stupid shit at first — cursing him for taking that lightning hit, telling him he owed me a new sword since his broke on the Bound. Then the real stuff slipped out. "I almost killed our own guys today. Opened the ground and didn't even see who was standing there. Jakob always called me a monster. What if he was right? What if this power turns me into something worse than the elders?"
The bond gave a weak pulse, like he was listening.
I pressed my forehead to his. Scales brushed his skin. "You promised to anchor me. So wake the fuck up and do it."
Dawn crept in gray through the window. Gunnar still hadn't opened his eyes. His breathing stayed shallow but steady. The black veins on his chest hadn't spread any further. Small mercy.
Sunna came back with food I didn't touch. "You need to rest too, Elva. You look like death."
"Not leaving him." I kept my hand on his chest, right over the burn mark, like I could push the bond back into him by sheer stubbornness. The scales on my own skin had stopped spreading but they felt heavier now, like armor I wasn't sure I wanted.
The keep was quiet outside the door. Warriors walking soft, voices low. They were scared of what I'd done in that valley. I could feel it. Part of me wanted to hide the scales, cover them up, pretend I was still the girl who got rejected in a white robe.
The bigger part of me knew that girl was dead.
I looked down at Gunnar's face, pale and still. The man who claimed me in a cell, who took an arrow for me, who stood between me and a monster made of stone and hate.
"You're not dying on me," I whispered. "We still have a war to finish. And I'm not facing it alone."
The bond flickered again, stronger this time. His fingers twitched against my thigh.
I held my breath.
His eyes cracked open, just a slit. Silver and exhausted but looking right at me.
"Elva…" His voice was barely there. "You… okay?"
Relief crashed through me so hard I laughed and it came out wet. "I'm the one who should be asking you that, you idiot."
His hand found mine. Weak, but real. The bond steadied between our palms like a rope pulled tight again.
Outside the window the sun climbed higher. The keep was already stirring: repairs, burials, plans for whatever the elders threw at us next.
But in this room it was just us for a minute.
I leaned down and pressed my lips to his forehead, scales and all. "Rest. I've got you this time."
His eyes slid shut again, but the grip on my hand stayed.
The power inside me still burned, still dangerous, still mine. I didn't know if I could control it without him. I didn't know if I'd just become the very thing Jakob tried to bury.
But Gunnar was breathing.
And for now that was enough to keep the monster at bay.
The real test would come when the Council regrouped and came back harder.
I stayed right there, hand in his, scales catching the morning light.
Let them come.
I'd be ready.
Even if it meant becoming something none of us could take back.
Gunnar's eyes slid shut again, but his grip on my hand stayed solid. Not the iron clamp from before the battle, but real enough that the frayed bond between us steadied like a rope someone had finally knotted.
I stayed right there on the edge of the bed, back against the headboard, his head heavy in my lap.
The lantern flickered low on the table.
Outside the window the keep was waking up slow, boots on stone, low voices passing in the corridor, the distant clang of the blacksmith already hammering out new arrowheads.
I didn't move.