5.16: Wonder

                                    

                                          

I didn't waste any time moving forward in the tunnel, even as darkness closed in fast, thick and suffocating. It didn't slow me. I couldn't afford to hesitate. My grip on Valentyna tightened as I shifted her weight in my arms, her frail form trembling against me. I hated the way her breaths came shallow and weak, the way her skin felt clammy even through her dress, like she could slip away from me any moment. 
"Hold on, Vale," I muttered softly, the words more for me than for her. Valentyna said nothing, her head lolling heavier on my forearm as I carried her forward. I could feel her pulse faintly at the side of her neck, fluttering weakly against my bare skin. That fragile beat was drumming fear into me; I'd promised myself I wouldn't let her die, not here, not when we were so close. But how close were we, really? Were we even close enough to save her?
Behind me, Nika's stumbling was audible; echoing like a brewing thunder in the silence of the tunnel. I knew he was struggling; his pained grunts and shuffling steps were a constant reminder that it wasn't just Vale in pain - in peril. The protruding green veins of his face told me it was a poison; but I could have guessed that from the severity of the issue; vampires were exceedingly difficult to kill - even a stake had to be made of a specific wood to make any kind of impact. So poison, that much was obvious. And it was clearly eating away at him, leaving him barely capable of walking. Every instinct told me to keep going, to move faster, but I couldn't. I couldn't ignore his ragged breaths or the faint sound of his hand scraping against the wall as he attempted to steady himself.
"Damn it." I groaned under my breath, teeth gritted as I forced myself to come to a halt. Valentyna let out a squeak of a noise as I adjusted her again, shifting her higher against my chest. She felt boneless. Weak. I didn't doubt she could dissolve into nothing if I held her in the wrong way. 
Turning back, I let out an irritated sigh as I reached back for Nika's hand. My fingers found his easily in the dark, but he recoiled with a growl, just as stubborn as I expected of the man. Even now, in this state, he was fighting against my help. 
"This is the only time I'm going to come back for you, Nika," I said quietly, leaving no room for argument despite knowing it wasn't true. I'd come back for him again if I had to, I'd take Valentyna on, hand her over, and run back, but I would eventually return - but he didn't need to know that. He grabbed onto the edge on my shirt, his fingers curling into the blood-damp fabric. I knew he could smell it, he was practically gagging on the scent of it, but he held on anyway. Good, he needed to.
"Just keep a grip on my shirt," I added bitterly, smirking despite myself. "That way I'll know where to send them to collect your body."  I figured they'd know we were coming, if they were really witches that is. I'm sure if he dropped here they'd be able to collect him without much interference from me. 
Nika had said something in return- something I'd bet was grouchy and defiant- but I wasn't listening to him. My focus had returned to my sister, and the faint rise and fall of her chest against my arm. I couldn't lose her. Not just because she was all I had left of our mother, but because life would truly be a struggle without her accompanying arm. The witches had to help her.
But would they help her? Would they even take a second look at her? At Nika, too? For all of the stories my mother used to tell of witches, she'd never painted them in a wondrous light- they were unpredictable, benevolent when they preferred, cruel more often than not. 
Mother...
The thought of her gnawed at me as I pressed on, one careful step after another. She'd kept so much from us, but how much of it had been right in front of us the whole time? She'd always been strange—gentle but secretive. I remembered her study, the way it smelled like dried lavender and sage. She had shelves full of books she wouldn't let us read. Heavy tomes bound in leather, their spines stamped with unfamiliar symbols. I used to sneak in there sometimes, running my fingers along the spines and marveling at the glittering gemstones she kept in glass jars.