19
Liane agreed to meet Sylvie a few nights later. It gave Liane time to make preparations and study the book Sylvie had found. There were many spells written in the book with detailed notes in the margin of strange markings that the author called runes. Each page listed the necessary runes and items for each spell.
The healing spell wasn’t necessarily for reversing a withering like Sylvie had, but a general one. It said it would purge the body of corruption. Liane gave the long list of items that were needed for the healing ceremony to Luzie to acquire. Ludwig was even helping without complaint. Having a task to focus on was a boon, as it reminded her of the old days when the three of them had worked toward the common goal of eradicating stardust in Artria.
Liane paced the length of her room, wringing her hands, as the appointed hour arrived. Ludwig was the lookout, and Luzie held a caged chicken, which quietly clucked. The pure-gold dagger lying on the table next to the cage was the hardest to procure. Luzie had had to commission a jeweler to make it for them. The thought of what must be done with it made Liane’s stomach heave. But one chicken’s life was a small price to pay to save Sylvie. This was the destiny the goddess had set before her. To be a healer, and maybe a warrior, against darkness. Erich was wrong. She kept chanting it over and over in her mind, as if repetition would convince her.
Someone knocked at the door, and Liane’s yelp startled the chicken. It squawked indignantly as Luzie set down the cage to answer the door. Sylvie stood in the doorway, head bowed, and Ludwig was looming behind her shoulder.
“Come in,” Luzie said.
Liane walked over to greet Sylvie and tried to think of something comforting and reassuring, but she was scared out of her mind. The goddess had chosen her for this task. She knew healing was possible.
Sylvie glanced around the room nervously.
“Would you like something to drink?” Luzie asked Sylvie.
“No, thank you. I don’t think I could keep anything down.” She was wringing her hands together.
There was no use in waiting any longer. Liane cleared her throat. “Shall we get started?”
“Yes. I see you got the necessary items.” Sylvie glanced around at the items they’d gathered—a white chicken, a golden dagger, several candles, and more.
Liane nodded as she swallowed past the lump in her throat. She reached for the dog-eared book, as if it were a touchstone that might give her the guidance and knowledge she needed to perform this task. She opened it up to a marked page and read it one more time. She’d read it perhaps a dozen times since Sylvie had given it to her. As she ran her fingers over the now-familiar words and pictures, she inhaled and exhaled. She could do this.
First, she needed to define the space in which the ritual would be held. A circle must be drawn and marked by specific runes. Luzie rolled back the carpet in her room, and they pushed the furniture to the walls to make space for the drawing. Then Liane took a piece of chalk and drew the circle before standing back to study its shape. The book said it needed to be perfectly symmetrical. By her eye, it looked even. She hoped it was perfect. Then she walked the circle, writing down runes that overlapped with the circle. Those had to be written first. The book emphasized how important the order was. As she scratched them onto the wooden floorboards, she felt a jolt of something spark through her fingertips. As if some deeper part of her knew and understood what she was about to do.
Once the circle runes were drawn, she moved on to draw the outer circle. And she felt the power building under her skin like a light buzzing sound. But what she was doing felt right. Even if her back was throbbing by the time she got to the innermost circle of runes, and her hands were shaking, and she felt a headache pulsing behind her eyes. She was probably about to come down with a fever, but some voice in her head told her that this was the right path, that she was doing as she was meant to.
Liane stood back and studied her work; the runes had been placed in an exact replica of what she’d seen in the book. And everything was prepared. Sylvie stood off to one side, hands folded in front of her as if in prayer. Liane could see that the tips of her fingers had blackened and were starting to shrivel. The withering was progressing quickly. Liane would save her and countless others who were similarly afflicted. She’d find a way to save them all; there’d never be another Elias or Sylvie again.
“I think we’re ready.” Luzie brought over the cage, and Sylvie stepped into the middle, careful not to smudge any of the markings Liane had made.
Liane’s heart was in her throat as Luzie handed her the chicken. It had large, dark eyes and pristine white feathers. If Liane looked at it too long, the guilt would start to gnaw at her.
“Should I or...?” Liane asked Sylvie. The book wasn’t clear on the order of this part.
Sylvie reached for the chicken. “It’s me who is being healed, and the sacrifice is for my sake. It should be me, I think.” Her throat bobbed as she held the chicken.
It was being incredibly docile as if it knew what its fate entailed and had accepted it. Luzie handed Sylvie the dagger, and she took a deep breath, then brought it to its neck and sliced. The chicken died soundlessly, and then she laid it on the ground, letting its lifeblood pump out onto the runic markings. As soon as it touched the markings, Liane felt the prickle of power across her skin and watched as the runes illuminated one by one the same way they’d done in the chamber under the temple. The blood spread to the edge of the circle but no further, as if it were held in place by an invisible barrier.
Sylvie knelt down and pulled back her hood. She had mousy-brown hair and large brown eyes that stared up at Liane with both terror and hope.
“I’m in your hands now.” She turned her withered hands palm up toward Liane.
Luzie handed Liane a dish of white ash, and she dipped her fingers in it to draw the sign of the star on her brow and the pulse points on her throat and wrists, mimicking the drawing in the book. Then she stepped into the ring of runes and blood to do the same to Sylvie. As soon as her foot touched the ring, she felt a jolt run up her spine that pinned her in place. It felt as it had the time the Avatheos had tried to draw the sword out of her, as if someone had their hands on her spine and was trying to rip it out of her. Liane gasped, shoulders clenched, as she tried to breathe through the pain. After a few moments, it subsided, but sweat was trickling down her brow, and her skin was glowing enough to illuminate the space.
Sylvie stared up at her, and the light coming from Liane’s skin was illuminated on her face as she leaned forward and placed the same markings on Sylvie’s brow, throat, and wrists. As she finished the final mark, she felt a tug, like a rope being pulled taut between them. Her vision blurred for a moment, and all she could see was golden light. As her vision adjusted, however, she saw ribbons of light, flowing like the many rivers and pools that the Avatheos had shown her. But these weren’t rivers but blood, a network of magic flowing through Sylvie and her. Along her arms and hands, darkness swirled. Those same golden veins were muddied and black, moving like sludge, changing the golden rivers.
She’d never seen anything like it before, but instinct told her she had to reach out and purify it. And so, she touched the golden threads within Sylvie’s body, tracing down to where it met the dark sludge that was destroying her body. Golden light enveloped them both, and the darkness started to recede.
“It’s working,” Sylvie said tearfully. And Liane, encouraged by her enthusiasm, pushed forward, reaching into the darkest, most tainted parts of her body. The golden light from Liane’s body encompassed the darkness and snuffed it out. For a moment. But just as she thought she’d conquered it, the darkness showed up on Sylvie’s other hand. Liane reached for it and snuffed it out, only for it to start to spread.
The darkness was growing, as if fed by her magic. It moved faster, spreading across Sylvie’s body, and she cried out in fear and pain, her back arching. Liane tried to grasp onto more of the darkness, but no matter how much she poured into Sylvie, it made no difference. The darkness was consuming the light, growing bigger and more powerful. She tried pulling away, but Sylvie screamed, a heart-wrenching sound of pure agony.
Luzie was shouting, and Liane was trying her best to detach, but she couldn’t let go. It was as if, beyond her control, she were drawing all the light out of Sylvie and into her.
It took Ludwig physically pulling her out of the circle for the connection between them to break and the light to dim. The runes were smudged, and blood was smeared on the ground. Even with their ritual over, the damage didn’t stop. Sylvie was convulsing on the ground, as black corruption had crept over her fingertips and covered half her face, shriveling the skin until it clung to her skull and hollowed out her eye sockets.
