Too quiet.
My chest tightens. Vision blurs. My whole body trembles under the force building inside me.I can’t keep going without her.
Thane moves beside me, his voice low but firm. “Amara, let Valen work. You need to step back—”
“No! His healing power isn’t strong enough!” I sob.
Thane reaches for me anyway. His fingers graze my arm—then a violent spark erupts. Thane jerks back, cursing, handsnapping away like he’s been burned.
His breath hitches, and when I look at him—his fingers are curled inward, like he just touched a live flame.
My magics are unraveling—spilling out, expanding in luminous waves.
The chamber glows brighter, the swirling light lifting, rising, cascading in tendrils of luminous gold and silver, woven with streaks of deep indigo and soft violet. Like a constellation coming to life.
Like the stars themselves answering.
I squeeze my eyes shut, grab her shoulders, pull her close. Willing. Pleading. Then—
I feel it.
Not just the warmth of my magics, not just the pulse of energy unraveling from within me, but her. Her pain.
It floods through me—sharp, visceral. I know where she’s hurt. Feel the swelling. The bruise. The break.
And then I see it.
Not with my eyes. With something else.
The fracture. The crack in her skull. The place her head struck stone.
I gasp. My body rocks with the weight of it, with the sheer knowing. It’s like I’ve been pushed inside her wounds. Like they’re mine.
I don’t know what’s happening. I only know one thing. I won’t lose her.
A sharp hiss escapes my lips, my body locking up as the pain rushes through me—Lyra’s pain. It’s not just a vague awareness anymore. I feel it. The pounding, swelling ache in her skull, the way the pressure builds with every beat of her heart.
Every slowing beat. Too slow. Too weak.
She’s bleeding. Inside. The fracture’s too deep. Her body can’t keep up. And with every sluggish, uneven thrum of herheartbeat, I know, she’s slipping away.
The magics around me don’t stop. They swirl, glittering, cascading, weaving through the air like liquid starlight.
A presence beside me—Valen, wide-eyed, his breath catching. “My gods,” he murmurs, his voice hushed, reverent. “She’s healing her.”
And somewhere—far away, almost out of reach—I hear a single, broken sob. Soft. Choked. Garrick.
My fingers tighten against Lyra’s skin. Heat rushes through me—stronger, fiercer, brighter. The power isn’t wild. It’s mine.
And with a certainty that settles deep in my bones, I lift my head and lock eyes with Garrick. I hold his gaze—unwavering, unshaken.
My voice is steady. Final. Unbreakable. “No. Not today.”
A searing pain rips through me. Not just Lyra’s anymore—mine. It consumes me, burns through my veins, crashes into my skull like a hammer striking bone. My head feels like it’s splitting open, like the force of her wound has become my own.
I scream. Raw. Ripped from the core of me.
But the magics don’t stop. They surge, swirl, grow. Tendrils of luminous gold and silver, woven with streaks of deep indigo and soft violet, spiral around me, rising higher and higher. The energy spins faster, stretching toward the cavern ceiling, pulsing like a living thing.
