Meera looked thoughtful. “I know plenty of Lumerians develop vorakh after their Birth Bind is removed. But I don’t think that’s the case with Lyr. We’ll figure out what it means.”
“I know we will.” I tried to suppress a growl of frustration low in my throat. “But I’ll feel a lot fucking better about all of this when she opens her eyes.”
“She will. She has to.”
I nodded, continuing to stroke Lyr’s hand.
Meera made a soft sound with her throat. “You know, she’s the only one whose touch ever really worked, that ever really helped me,” she said wistfully. “Every time Morgana tried to—” She looked away, her aura shaking with a sudden grief. “We always said Lyr had a healing touch. But this time, she really did. The vision didn’t just stop. All my symptoms were taken away, too.” She shook her head, as if in disbelief. “I’ve never felt like this after. It takes hours to feel even remotely recovered. Hours to feel warm again.”
A healing touch?
Something began to stir in the back of my mind as her words sank in. A memory that I couldn’t pinpoint, or even fully recall. I couldn’t quite decipher if it was from this life or Auriel’s. There were moments lately when it all felt muddled. When my timelines felt confused.
“What if she didn’t take the vision from you?” I asked slowly, my idea barely formed.
“What do you mean?”
“What if she healed you?” I started to sift through lines of the Valya my mother had made me memorize as a boy. “Canturiel created a light so beautiful and valiant, it shone day and night. The Valalumir, he named it. Every color of the rainbow could be seen inside, brighter than anything Heaven could hide.”
Meera frowned.
I continued, “It never burned those who touched, nor blinded those who stared. Such was its beauty, the sun felt less fair … it offered heat, but did not burn … restored love, and one’s will ….”
“It removed harm from those hurt, and restored health to the ill,” Meera finished. Her eyes widened. “Lyr has part of the Valalumir inside her now.”
I nodded, my heart pounding as my dream the other night returned. Asherah had died. Asherah had sacrificed herself, healing Auriel. Healingmeafter the final battle. “The star in her chest was glowing when I arrived. What if … what if when she touched you, she healed you of your vision?” I asked.
“By the Gods. That would be amazing, but look at her.” Meera shook her head frantically. “If you’re right, I don’t think she’s simply healing. Not in a way where she can make the pain disappear. The energy of the thing can’t just vanish. Everything that ever existed still exists,” she said slowly. “According to the Valya, nothing that ever will exist hasn’t already been created. So, the vision and its symptoms didn’t go away. They still had to be expressed, the vision still had to be seen. So to heal me, she took it on herself.”
My stomach dropped. I’d been taught the same philosophies. Nothing new was ever created. Nothing ever destroyed. But the way she was healing, taking it on … I didn’t fully remember all the details yet, but this was starting to feel too close to what had happened before. Asherah had taken on other’s suffering, carrying power and light too big for her mortal body to sustain. Healing Auriel, absorbing his injuries and wounds into herself. And dying. I bit down on my lip, the backs of my eyes burning. Because Meera was right—according to the Valya, my tutors and the scrolls I’d studied—everything that existed would always exist.
Goddesses never die. That’s what Mercurial had told her. And if we were right, then Lyr wasn’t vorakh … but in this moment, she might as well have been. Because she was suffering as greatly as if she were.
Meera leaned forward, tucking the blankets around Lyr’s feet, making sure she didn’t lose any more body heat.
“I should have thought of that,” I said.
But Meera waved me off. “You’re doing a really good job, Rhyan. I see the way you take care of her. You should know, I really appreciate it.”
My throat constricted. “Thanks.”
She gestured to the blankets. “Lyr always did that for me. And it always helped.”
I nodded, tucking her in even tighter on my side.
“She’s lucky to have you looking out for her,” Meera said.
I frowned, my heart heavy as I watched Lyr’s chest rise and fall beneath the blankets. “I’m the lucky one.”
Meera smiled in response, then her face fell as her gaze returned to her sister.
“You know, I’m glad you’re here, too,” I said quietly. A tentative friendship had been building between us the past week. One that came with an awareness that it was our situation bringing us together, nothing more. But the friendship was budding all the same.
Moments passed, my anxiety growing until Lyr’s fingers finally twitched and moved against mine. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open. I let out the breath I was holding and squeezed her hand, leaning closer so she could see my face.
“Hey, partner,” I said, my voice gruff with emotion. “You’re awake.”
Lyr blinked rapidly, her beautiful hazel eyes taking me in and then seeing Meera by her side. “How long was I out?”
