Eisa’s worry seemed to deepen. “You’ve lost control of your galdur?”
Saga pressed her lips together. “Something like that. I cannot block it. The noise is unbearable?—”
“Did you drink something?”
“Wine,” replied Saga, realization hitting her—Signe’s smug look; the way the cupbearer had served Saga before the king. The queen had drugged Saga’s wine.
“The catalyst,” breathed Eisa, eyes widening. “You’ve been given a drug that causes your galdur to flow without control. It merely primed me, but your galdur is of the mind. I’m told things work differently for your kind of Galdra.”
Eisa turned, gazing at the light behind her. “Gods, Saga. This is your Cohesion Rite.” She turned to Saga, excitement etched into her face. “Perhaps the gods have brought me here to anchor you through it.”
“I don’t understand a word you’ve just spoken.”
“You’ve never linked your heart and your mind,” said Eisa. “Which meansyou have little control over your galdur. Once you link your heart and your mind, you’ll be able to do incredible things.”
Hadn’t Ana said something similar? Glancing past Eisa, she took in the brilliant, gilded cage. The light was sculpted into sleek bars, arching together at the top of the cage, while curious, pulsating creatures fluttered about within.
Eisa’s hand wrapped around Saga’s. “Free them,” she whispered. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”
As they stepped nearer, the small creatures imprisoned within the cage came into view. A sob broke in her throat, tears stinging her eyes.
Inside the cage was a flock of winterwing birds.
A part of herself, caged away for all these years, waiting for Saga to free it.
There was something so circular about it, a rightfulness. These birds were the heart of her being; a part of her she never knew she was missing.
“Claim your power, Saga,” urged Eisa.
Saga’s fingers stretched out, reaching for that delicate, gilded door. Her fingers brushed it, then pulled it open. The birds flapped feathered wings of light, soaring from the cage. Free at last.
Saga gasped. Pure energy rushed into her, flowing through her veins, like a river freed from its dam. Every part of her felt connected; every thought, every memory, every muscle, every beat of her heart was woven in thousands—millions—of tiny linkages, and in that moment, Saga felt it all.
Deeper inside her, something ancient yawned, stirring awake from its long slumber. The wild, euphoric power in her veins calmed gradually, spilling into a pool rippling calmly behind her ribs.
“You’re Cohesed, Saga,” said Eisa, clasping her hands together. “I can feel you, sister. I feel you so much stronger now…and I feel something else. Something curious.” Eisa’s brows furrowed.
Saga could feel Eisa, too—cold pressure squeezing in from all sides, the need for air. The terror.
“Eisa,” murmured Saga, realization dripping down her spine like cold water. “You’re not safe.”
Eisa frowned. “No, I’m not.” Her hand slid along her throat. “I can’t breathe,” she whispered. “Oh, gods…the avalanche!”
Saga saw memories which were not her own—a sword of light hissing in gray skies; a blond man, crashing back into a sheer rock face; a wall of snow plowing down from above.
Eisa’s eyes flared, and she grabbed Saga’s elbows. “I cannot linger. I mustreturn...”
Saga clasped her sister, hugged her fiercely. Alone. She’d be alone again, and she could not bear it.
“Remember, Saga.” Eisa pulled back. “Remember your promise.”
Saga nodded, her throat burning. “I remember,” she said. “Go. Be safe.”
A black fog circled around Eisa, whisking bits of her away, like sand in the wind, until there was nothing left at all.
An ache permeated Saga, the loss of a thing she’d never truly had. And in that moment, her promise to Eisa became more than words—it held meaning. Sagawouldbe reunited with Eisa, no matter the cost.
Determination settled into place. Saga assessed herself, probing the curious pool of power in her chest. Dull sounds filtered from above, and she knew her destiny was there, in that room. With those people.
