He ignored her completely, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “Right. Let’s heal the lass, aye?”
She forcedher consciousness through the dark spaces of Fern’s mind, the feel of Hedda and Nyri’s hands on either shoulder comforting her through the near-instantaneous onslaught of pain.
Her connection to them—the sound of their beating hearts, the grounding contact of their touch—kept her from diving too deep. From losing herself entirely.
Following the threads of her power, she trudged through the bogging gloom until she hit the iron wall at its center.
Hammering blows started up in the deepest parts of her skull when she reached out to touch it, as if a blacksmith had taken to forging her brain for fun. She gritted her teeth, swallowing back a rush of nauseating saliva, and pushed.
It devoured the light of her power as she thrust it out, as much as she could manage without collapsing. The barrier swelled, fighting back, lashing out with invisible claws and teeth.
When a contralto shout she couldn’t decipher accompanied sharp nails digging into her skin, she pulled back.
Right. She was meant to be going slow this time.
Another push—this one gentler—and the wall bulged again, almost smug.
Like she was feeding it. Satisfying it.
Shite, she hadn’t noticed that before.
Except, she had the same impression upon first seeing the chasm. Of the gloom consuming Solyrian’s light. Erasing it. She’d only been trying to commit the color to memory. Describe the indescribable.
What if it was literal?
If that was the case, this inky evil had already defeated her. All she had was light.
Unless…
She sucked back every ounce of her power, plunging herself into utter darkness. Feeling her way, she laid mental hands on it again and dug her clawed fingers into its unforgiving surface.
Shefeltmore than heard herself screaming.
The others were there, still safe. Only the slightest uptick in the pace of their heartbeats. Worry for her, more than distress for themselves.
Good. She could take any amount of agony, so long as it was her own.
With all the strength she possessed, she wrenched outwards, tearing through the insidious blockade piece by piece. It was likedigging through the great hall’s marble floor with nothing but her bloodied fingertips, only chips and granules coming away.
It was possible she was doing more damage to herself than anything, but progress—however seemingly insignificant—was progress.
Lunara awoke wedgedbetween Hedda and Nyri, both of them slack-jawed and snoring.
Solyrian’s rays peeked around the closed curtains, casting her chamber in diffuse morning light. It allowed her to see the purple smudges adorning the flesh beneath their closed eyes, their olive skin unusually pale.
A pang of guilt twisted in her chest. They’d stayed beside her for hours on end, never faltering, and then catching her limp, ravaged body before it could hit the ground at the end. Even Magnus and Faldir had been wrung out, their horror evident.
Their respect, too, which had been hard to swallow.
And when they hadn’t known how to handle her—when they’d tried to lift her and the only sound she’d been able to make was incoherent whimpering and pleas for them to stop—they’d called in Brand.
Fighting it had been impossible.Desperatedidn’t even begin to do justice to how she’d felt.
Lunara hadn’t been able to look at him as he’d suffused her with his calm compassion through the bond, though. Hadn’t opened her eyes when he’d pried her mouth open with such heartbreaking tenderness that she’d choked on it, or when he’d set his flesh to her fangs.
No. With lids plastered shut, she’d fed on his perfect gift and silently wept, tears streaming when he’d lifted her and offered soft murmurings, a kiss to her brow.
Lunara hoped he thought it was the pain from healing, and not because she was so torn apart that she was positive the jagged damage was irreparable.
