And then, all at once, the light vanished and Auriel’s voice broke as he moaned in pain, sinking to his knees.
“Auriel?” I asked, sinking beside him. “Auriel?” Our eyes met.
I reached for his arms, sliding my hands down his skin, checking his chest and stomach for injuries—but his armor was intact.
“What happened?” I asked frantically, my hands and eyes desperately searching him all over. “Are you hurt? I can’t find a wound.”
“I’m not injured,” he said, but he sounded weak, like his energy was gone.
I stood up, and grabbed his arms, again hauling him back to his feet.
He stumbled back, slamming into the tree behind us. He leaned his head against the trunk and closed his eyes, his brows furrowed, sweat pouring down from his forehead. “Something’s wrong,” he said.
“What?” I asked. “Tell me. Tell me what to do! I’ll heal you. I’ll heal you.”
I placed my hands on his face. But he flickered. Vanishing completely and returning. It was like that first night when I was dreaming. Seeing the Guardian of Bamaria’s head vanish and reappear.
“AURIEL!”
His chest heaved and he reached for my hands, pushing them down, his face tight in pain.
“Lyriana,” he said. “I’m sorry. I don’t … I don’t think I can stay any longer.”
“No!” I cried. “You can’t go. Auriel, you can’t leave me. I’ll fix it. Okay. It’s going to be okay.” I pulled out my stave, pointing it to his chest, and squeezed his hand. His fingers threaded through mine, squeezing back, only barely.
The akadim were starting to close in on us again, now that the light was gone. Now that Auriel had nothing to threaten them with.
Once more he vanished from sight and reappeared. His eyes had been pale since he found me at Rhyan’s side. And now, the blond in his hair was losing its golden shine.
He was fading, fading before my very eyes. He lost his balance, and fell against me. And for the first time ever since I’d seen him, he didn’t look like a God. He looked ... mortal. I wrapped my arms around him.
“Auriel,” I cried. “Auriel, please.” My voice. “Please don’t go. I’ll heal you. I swear I will.” And I was trying, pouring everything I had into him with my touch, imagining him healthy, strong and glowing. A God restored.
He pulled back, meeting my eyes and shook his head slowly, the movement labored, like it was taking all of his energy. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
My chest heaved. No. No. No. It was exactly what Rhyan had said to me after he’d been stripped, when he was—when he was?—
“You’re not dying,” I cried.
“No. I’m not. I’m a God, remember?” He winked. “I wasn’t born. I can’t die. But my time here is up. I-I’m done. It’s not … not allowed anymore. The Council says it’s done. I can’t stay here with you.” A tear rolled down his cheek.
“It’s not done!” I cried. “It’s not.” I was going to kill the Council when I found them.
He brushed my hair back, his hand sliding down my ear, and then to my neck, dipping lower. His fingers shifted overAsherah’s chest plate, stopping when his palm was over my heart.
“It was … wonderful to be alive again, and to be alive with you. But I can’t,” he swallowed roughly. “I can’t stay.” He smiled sadly. “Lyriana.Mekara.”
“No! Auriel!” My heart stopped beating.
“Even you can’t heal me now,” he said. Then his smile widened, and his eyes were no longer seeing me. They seemed to be looking through me—to something beyond me. “Asherah,” he whispered.
“Auriel!”
But he was gone. My hands clutched at nothing but the air.
His weapons and armor, the green shard, all fell to the ground where he’d stood. All that was left of him now. All he’d come down with had vanished with him.
I was alone. Completely alone. Rhyan was gone. Auriel, too.
