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The cold metal bit deep, and I almost welcomed the sharp sting—the clean, familiar pain of it.

Helion hissed beside me.

“He is so cold,” I whispered, pressing my bleeding palm to his mouth.

His skin reminded me of the coldest nights in Stonebriar, of sleet falling from a blackened sky and sinking straight through bone.

“Is he⁠—”

“If he were dead, you would feel it.” Helion cut me off, leaning forward and splaying his hand over the centre of my chest. “Here.” His expression shifted, the mask he always wore slipping until there was nothing but heartache and the ghost of pain remained. “It is the worst pain imaginable. It is so fucking cruel that you would beg for death just to make it stop.” His voice dropped. “And when it finally fades, it takes a part of you. It leaves an emptiness behind. A place inside you that aches for something that will never return.”

He knew those wounds—I could feel them in his words.

I stared at him with my mouth parted, words turning to ash on my tongue.

He had felt me die.

“Keep feeding your monster,” Helion murmured and stood. “I’m going to get the brute with long hair.”

“His name is Solas,” I whispered half-heartedly. But he had already closed the door behind him.

I brushed Rythos’ black hair off his damp forehead, wishing for his starless eyes to blink open for me.

But they stayed shut.

“I’m so sorry I did this to you,” I whispered. “I’m going to fix it.”

And I was out of time.

I couldn’t wait another day until we grew closer to the throne, not when Rythos was deteriorating before my eyes.

I would be faster in the water.

He began to swallow, my blood pooling against his tongue, and a small sigh of relief slipped from me.

The rot had stopped spreading. But it wasn’t receding.

The bleeding from his chest had slowed, yet the wound refused to close. The torn flesh stayed raw and open, a gaping reminder that my blood was no longer enough to heal him.

Only enough to keep him from getting worse.

His eyes flickered open, barely halfway.

“Hey,” I soothed, pressing my forehead to his. “You’re okay.”

He pulled my wrist from his mouth, and I tried to follow it. “You need to drink,” I insisted, my voice cracking.

“Lyra,” he rasped.

“I’m here, Rythos,” I said as tears silently tracked down my cheeks. “I’m here.”

He cupped my cheek with a cold hand. “I love you.”

I leant into his touch, wishing it was as warm as it had once been. Wishing I could take away the suffering I was causing him.

“I love you, too.”

The door swung open and Solas barged in. His brows were creased with worry as he knelt next to the bed.