After her little brawl with Nobos, Iris fell on her knees, supporting herself on the sword. The pain in her chest had gotten worse. She looked up. Shaddow Valley wasn't that far behind. The vast ridges were still visible even in the darkness. Iris pushed herself up, groaning, hissing at the pain in her chest. It hurt, breathing and moving. She wanted nothing more than sprawl on the cold ground, but there was no time to feel sorry for herself. What good would that do? None.
With faltering steps, she began walking again. However she could, she had to make it to Ironstone. She was hoping that Edýia was still holding on. She felt somewhat responsible for what happened. This was all her fault. The destruction and the mayhem surrounding her wouldn't have occurred if she had fought harder. Guilt and loss crept into her heart. Its thorns were gripping tight and piercing her already broken heart. Everything was lost. She had lost everything. Her only son and the only man she had ever loved were gone. Nothing she could do about it. She felt helpless and hopeless. Edýia was her new purpose, a new goal. She hoped she wouldn't fail at that either. She needed Ian and his loving words. He would know what to say to ease her worries and soothe her broken heart. But he had turned into something else. A servant of the darkness, there was no coming back from that. The books might have offered some insight, but they were in Zandar. And by now, Lund probably had destroyed them out of spite.
" Iris, stop!" A familiar voice broke her thoughts, and she felt compelled to stop. She didn't dare to dream. Did she hear things? Couldn't it be? Ian?
Iris turned on her heels, eyes closed " Ian?" she asked, hopeful.
The sound of footsteps approaching her was a sign that she wasn't losing her mind because of the pain.
" Open your eyes, my Queen!" he lovingly whispered, caressing her cheek with the back of his hand.
Iris slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times as if she didn't believe what she saw " How?" she breathed out the words, a little confused.
Ian frowned " I opened a portal." he replied, a little irritated. She knew this. Why was she even asking?
Iris flustered " No! I mean..." she stuttered as her eyes keenly studied his face.
Ian narrowed his eyes at her. His hand fell to his side as her eyes followed it. Iris took his hand and looked at it as if it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
He closed his eyes, unable to bear to look at his hand. He was appaling, disgusting, and unsightly—an abomination.
" How is it even possible?" Iris breathed out the words, completely dumbstruck.
Reluctantly, Ian opened his eyes. Now he was curious. Why was Iris so amazed? He didn't dare to dream of a life with her anymore. He had pushed his feelings for her deep down and buried them under a mountain of pain and indifference. His eyes fell on the joining hands and realised that he had returned to made of flesh, real flesh. Not the ghastly, unsightly being he was before. He touched his face. He wasn't grimy, sticky and grey. He had skin, tracing his features with his hand to his eyes and hair. Joy swelled in his heart. He was him again. His hand snapped to his groin, and he felt like he was about to scream. It was there. His precious jewel was still there.
Iris giggled as he patted his groin, and he realised how much his head missed that lovely sound. Their eyes met before he would have a chance to say anything. Iris lunged at him, and they both crashed onto the ground. She cupped his face, staring down at him. Her eye shined with happiness and sorrow. She leaned in and brushed her lips on his. Her lips were dry, but her kiss was tender and full of longing.
"I missed you!" she spoke against his lips, and he lost all reason to her words.
Ian's hand cradled the back of her head and captured her lips, pouring all the pain, love and longing into it. He had no clue how this happened, but he couldn't be more overjoyed that it did. Hope bloomed once again. Maybe there was still hope.
Iris pulled away from the kiss, breathless and dazed. Her eyes searched his face. Her hand traced his features as if trying to reassure herself he was real. Himself had trouble reconciling with the fact that he was himself again. It was unsettling. What will be the price for this gift? He glanced up at the portal behind him. It was open but wavering. His presence in the realm of the living didn't grate well with the dark forces that ruled Hollow.
" I must return!" Ian broke the silence. Her breath hitched, and she grew wistful, stricken at his words.
" But before I go, I need a drop of your blood! I'm trying to decipher Bastos's book, and I have asked for blood. You are of his kind. So I'm assuming that it is your blood that will unlock it." Ian hastily said as he pushed himself off the ground with Iris in tow.
Iris's eyes widened at his words, and she grimaced at the sharp pain in her ribs. Ian's presence had distracted her from the pain momentarily, but now it had returned in full force.
Ian narrowed his eyes. "What's wrong?" he cocked his head as his eyes travelled down her body and settled on her arm, curled up on her ribs.
" You're hurt!" he exclaimed, surprised, reaching her side. Iris took a step back and hissed.
" Yes! It happened in the Valley while I was retrieving this." she unfurled her hand and showed him the liantur stone.
" That's why you were fighting the beasts. For the stone." Ian said with his eyes on the stone " I thought that you got it from Zandar." he reached for the stone and brushed his fingers on it as if in a trance.
" I was a sham! Not the real one!" Iris's voice was low, disappointed. Who wouldn't be?
" I see!" Ian muttered, deep in thought.
" I must return now, my Queen!" Ian lovingly said as he brushed Iris's cheek with the tip of his fingers, his gaze lowered, pained.
Iris nodded, closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. Unfurled her arm and held her palm up to him.
" Take as much as you need," she mumbled, wiping a rogue tear with the back of her hand.
It was a heartbreaking sight. He was leaving her again. That faitful day, he had made his peace with his fate, an unnerving thought that he would never spend the rest of his days at her side. Ian pulled his dagger out of its sheath and looked at her one more time. Her head hung low. She didn't look at him. His grip tightened, and with a hesitant move, he nipped the tip of her finger and scrapped one drop of blood. Her pain was tangible, seeping into his bones and the last shred of his soul. That he still had because of her. Unable to see her in that state, he did the only thing he could at that moment. He turned on his heels and stepped back into Hollow.