Kaelen’s head snaps toward him. “That’s a myth.”
Eres shakes his head once. “Maybe. But you’ve never seen Lightbringer healing, Kaelen. None of us have. And—”
He looks at Sera once more. Swallows. It’s enough.
She won’t survive.
Valcor’s gaze hardens, swinging to me. But he doesn’t order my removal, this time. “And you think the witch can do it?”
I feel every eye in the room on me now. Swallowing, I wipe my damp hands against my leathers.
“I’ve never healed anyone,” I say, voice low. “I’ve never been trained. Lightbringers keep healing as tightly guarded as warcraft.”
And though I spent a significant amount of time in their care, I was rarely conscious. I can only remember even seeing healing a handful of times. Eres steps closer to me, just enough that his body blocks some of Valcor’s glare. “But you have luminth,” he says, meeting my eyes. “It’s worth a try, Lyra. Nobody will blame you if it doesn’t work.”
My eyes shift to Sera. And if it did—
Valcor rises abruptly. “No.”
The word is a command, the same tone he used last night in my cell when I was drowning and broken, Nythen demanding answers I couldn’t give.
“You'll not touch her,” he snarls at me. “You will not use Sera as some Lightbringer trick.”
Kaelen’s jaw tightens. “Valcor.”
“She’s aprisoner,” Valcor continues, his voice shaking. “A witch. And you'd hand her my daughter’s spine like an offering?”
Elspeth gets to her feet. Her dark brown eyes assess me quietly. “Her spine is gone. She’sdying. We don’t have time for this.”
Valcor whirls on her. “And if I let her—”
“Ifwelet Lyra try,” Darian cuts in, voice ragged, “Sera might live.”
Eres lifts a hand. “That’s enough. We don’t have time. Elspeth is right. As her healer, we’re trying this. Right now, Sera is bleeding internally and her spinal cord is severed. We have minutes before her heart gives up.”
Silence.Sera’s breath rasps wetly.
Valcor’s chest heaves. His eyes flick down to his daughter, and something in his face collapses. He looks… old.
He swallows hard. “If she dies,” he says hoarsely, eyes locking on me, “it will be on you, witch.”
“If she dies,” Elspeth snaps, “it will be onall of us,for wasting time.”
Valcor flinches as if struck. But Eres turns to me, stepping closer. His voice drops. “Lyra,” he murmurs, “If it doesn’t work, then we’ve lost nothing. But if there’s even a chance…”
My heart pounds so hard it hurts. I look at Sera.
Her face is slack, lashes dark against pale skin. There’s a faint crease between her brows, as if she’s fighting even in unconsciousness.
She's not my blood. But she’s theirs. “I’ll try."
Valcor’s eyes burn. “You try, and you fail, and—”
“And she dies anyway,” I cut him off. “Solet me try.”
Lyra
Eres turns back to the shelf, fingers already reaching for that vial that contains the quilling antidote.
