Too much. It’s becoming too much.
“Amara, pull back!” Valen’s voice is urgent, edged with worry. “You’re too deep!”
He’s afraid—afraid I don’t know what I’m doing. Afraid I’m going to lose control. But I won’t. I refuse. I willnotlose her.
The bond inside me hammers. And suddenly I feel him. Thane. His fear crashes into me like a wave, sharp and raw, curling in my chest as if it’s my own.
He’s afraid for me. Afraid I won’t come back. Afraid I’ll be theone slipping away this time.
But I can’t stop. Lyra is dying. And I will not let her go.
The pain is unbearable. It claws through me, searing, blinding, as if my very bones are being torn apart and stitched back together at the same time. The fractured bone mending itself, piece by piece, knitting together with agonizing precision.
Gods, it hurts.
I choke on a sob. My hands tremble against Lyra’s skin. But I don’t let go. I won’t.
The magics moves faster, spiraling, surging, weaving through her body. I can feel every place she’s broken—every bruise, every torn muscle, every part of her that is failing.
And then—healing.
The swelling recedes, the fractures seal, the wounds fade. The magics are furious, relentless, unyielding. The golden and silver tendrils whip through the cavern, streaked with indigo and violet, climbing higher, faster—powerful.Uncontainable.
I scream again, because it’s happening inside me, too. I am being unmade and rebuilt at the same time.
“Amara!” Thane’s voice cuts through the chaos, raw, desperate—a plea.
The pulse beats, a violent rhythm, harder and harder, like it will burst out of me. I hear movement. Thane—coming toward me. I know the sound—his boots scraping stone, urgency in every step.
But then another sound. A scuffle. Bodies shifting.
“No—” Thane’s voice is sharp, furious, but he doesn’t reach me. Rian and Jarek hold him back. I don’t look. I can’t. Lyra is still here. Still broken. Still bleeding.
I will not stop. Not until she comes back to me.
The healing is working. The pain is still there, blinding, unbearable, but beneath it . . . something else. A shift. A change.
I feel it first in Lyra’s heart. The slow, fading beat I had clungto now grows stronger, steadier, like the rhythm of a war drum returning to life.
Then her breath deepens. One slow inhale. Then another. Her chest rising and falling for all to see. The rasping struggle is gone, replaced by something steady, strong. Alive.
She’s coming back.
The magics around me doesn’t slow—it pulses, glows brighter, swirling in shimmering waves, wrapping around me, around Lyra. The tendrils of gold and silver weave together, streaked with indigo and violet, cascading in the air like celestial ribbons. It feels endless, unstoppable, the raw power of it flowing through me, through her, through everything.
The cavern hums, the walls seem to glow in response, as if the very space around us is bearing witness to this moment. To this life returning.
But I don’t let go. Not yet. Not until she opens her eyes.
Valen exhales sharply, stepping forward, wide-eyed, his voice barely a whisper. “By all the Elemental gods . . . ”
Rian takes a half step back, his grip still firm on Thane’s arm, holding him back. I can hear Thane struggling against him, his breathing ragged. “Let me go, Rian.”
But Rian doesn’t. His gaze is locked on the swirling magics, his fingers tight around Thane’s arm as if he’s afraid of what will happen if Thane gets too close.
“Holy hells,” Rian breathes, shaking his head. “Do you see this?”
Their awe doesn’t reach me.
