He swallowed hard. “Then what am I?”
She clasped her hands at her waist. “The part of you that exists inside this crystal is your ethera. You might call it your spirit. What you see now is the outer layer of your ethera, the part that most resembles your physical form.”
“And you? What are you?”
She gestured at her body. “This too is the outer layer of my ethera. But unlike you, I died many years ago. I don’t have a body to return to.”
“Does that mean I can go back? I can get out of the crystal and…return to my body?” Referring to himself as something separate from his body ignited a fresh wave of panic.
“Yes, but you need to keep your breathing steady, Highness. It’s your best defense against him.”
Him.
The shadowed form of Duke Morkai.
“Was that…thingI saw…was that the sorcerer’s ethera?”
She nodded. “He tethered it to the crystal as a way to fully evade death.”
“But you said you’re considered dead because your body is gone. So is his. He has nothing to return to.”
Emylia wrung her hands before forcing them to still. “Returning to hisformerbody isn’t his goal.”
The way she emphasizedformersent a chill through him. She must have been implying that Morkai intended to forge some new body. What did that have to do with Teryn? Why was his spirit stuck inside a crystal?—
Truth dawned like a dagger to his heart. “He wants to use my body.”
Her nod of confirmation sent his head spinning. Or whatever part of this so-called ethera that felt like his head.
“He…already has,” she said. “Somewhat.”
“What the seven devils is that supposed to mean? Is his spirit in my body right now?” What were these words leaving his mouth? These kinds of things weren’t possible. They weren’t real. Months ago, he hadn’t believed in magic. Magic had been a thing that existed only in faerytales. Then he’d met Cora, caught his first glimpse of a unicorn. Magic then shifted into a beautiful truth, one that gave Cora the ability to sense emotion and even go so far as to hide them from sight. But when Morkai came along, his view of magic changed yet again, and he’d learned of its dark side. One of wraiths and blood sorcery. Somehow, Teryn was now entangled in that malevolent kind of magic.
No, this can’t be happening.
His chest tightened, lungs contracting. Or were they his lungs at all? Emylia had told him to breathe, but if he was separate from his body, then…then that was impossible. His legs-that-weren’t-legs gave out beneath him and he slid to the floor. But the floor wasn’t solid; it was nothing but a buzzing resistance against his thighs and hips.
Emylia crouched before him. “I can’t answer any more questions until you strengthen your connection to your vitale.”
“My what?”
“Your vitale, your life force energy. Your ethera is connected to it. Now close your eyes and focus on your breath. Breathe slow and deep.”
It was hard to focus on anything except his growing panic, but she’d said breathing was his greatest weapon against the sorcerer, right? He didn’t know how or why or even half of what was happening to him, but if Emylia was telling the truth, he had to try.
Closing his eyes, he took a breath. It was shaky and shallow, but he poured all his focus into making the next one deeper, stronger. Then the next.
“Can you feel the air moving through your lungs?” came Emylia’s voice.
“Yes,” he said, though he didn’t understand how it was possible.
“Can you feel the beating of your heart?”
He shifted his attention to the rhythmic pounding. The thud of his pulse. The melody drained some of his fear, smoothing the edges of his panic. His next breaths were even deeper.
“Good. Sink your attention into what makes you feel alive. The pulsing of your blood. The workings of your heart, lungs, and other organs. That is your vitale. It is your life force, the part of your body you still maintain control over. Do not open your eyes until you feel like you can maintain this connection without conscious thought.”
Teryn sat in stillness for countless minutes until his breaths were steady, his pulse uninterrupted by spikes of anxiety. Finally, he opened his eyes and saw Emylia sitting across from him. She no longer wore her dress and capelet but billowy silk pants and a matching tunic. It was yet another strange outfit, following neither current female fashions nor ones from the recent past. If Emylia’s ethera resembled who she’d been when she was living, she hadn’t been from the continent of Risa. The Southern Islands perhaps?
