“Halleth ruta sot. Halleth ruta toff,” Taavin intoned as well. More shining light.
Eira had never felt so worthless. She couldn’t heal. She couldn’t help them.
“This is beyond me. The wounds aren’t just physical, there’s magic at play,” Deneya said to Olivin between her murmurings. “We’ll need to take him to a more powerful cleric.”
“We need to stabilize him first,” Taavin said, barely breaking between Lightspinning words.
The small rise and fall of Yonlin’s chest, as weak as it was, made a powerful showing in defiance of death. Eira had been in the pit. She knew how the Pillars broke people. How they denied light and goodness until your own monsters ate you alive. Then there was the hunger—
An invisible knife stabbed through her chest, stealing her breath. She had been the one to take the shift key. The Pillars had no way to bring him food, or water…because of her.
Yonlin was dying…because of her.
“This isn’t working. We have to bring someone here.” Worry was seeping into Deneya’s voice.
“There isn’t time. We’ll try again,” Taavin countered.
“I’ll help too.” Vi held out her hand.
“No.” Eira stepped forward and clasped her hand around Deneya’s shoulder tightly. The last time she’d done this was when Deneya had been the one dying. Since then, she’d practiced. It didn’t matter if her practicing hadn’t been successful. She’d managed once before with Deneya and she’d succeed now.
There was no other option.
Eira could have all the Pillars’ blood on her hands and walk bent, but not broken…but Yonlin…his blood would drown her.
“Just Deneya, alone. One more time,” Eira said firmly.
“Eira?” Olivin met her eyes. Fresh tears were gathering on his lower lids, spilling over.
“We’re going to save him,” she vowed. “I won’t let him die.”
“But—”
Eira wouldn’t allow Deneya’s objection. “Deneya,again.” Deneya took a slow breath. Eira closed her eyes. “Vi, snuff the flame.” The princess did as she was told.
In a darkness as perfect as the pit, Eira found it again. That quiet. That solitude. A lake of perfect stillness.
“Halleth ruta sot. Halleth ruta toff,” Deneya repeated, slow and purposeful.
Magic rippled across Eira’s awareness. It welled up from within Deneya, spinning underneath her flesh and unraveling before weaving together again. The sensation of Eira’s physical body vanished. Her spirit disconnected. Deneya’s magic went from humming on the edge of her awareness to engulfing her.
Eira breathed. Deneya breathed in tandem.
With a spectral hand that existed only in her imagination—in the visualization of Deneya’s channel that was only in Eira’s mind—she reached into the other woman.Open, she willed Deneya’s font of power. Their magic rose together. More threads of power weaved around Deneya’s glyphs, pulled and guided by Eira’s thoughts.
Magic surged and flesh mended.
When Deneya eased away, so did Eira. Sound and thought returned. Eira swayed and leaned against the wall heavily. The princess was at her side in a blink, offering support.
“What was that?” Taavin looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“You did it again,” Deneya whispered.
“His breathing is even,” Olivin said hastily. “Yonlin? Yonlin?”
“He’s stable, but still wounded,” Vi said, ever the levelheaded one. “We need to get him to a cleric to sort out whatever magic is blocking our mending before he regresses.”
“I know just the one,” Eira said. “Where’s Fritz?”
