The convulsion passes. He sags back against the wood, chest heaving with shallow, rattling breaths. When he speaks again, his voice is fading, each word an obvious struggle.
"Everything I did..." Another pause, another labored breath. "Was for Amisra. To give her... the best life. But also... for you. And Val."
"I know." The tears spill over, hot against my cheeks. "I know you wanted us to be happy. We are happy. So you need to stay, you need to?—"
"No." Gentle contradiction. His thumb brushes over my knuckles, the gesture achingly tender. "You need... to let me go. Let me... rest."
"Daryn—"
"Promise me." His eyes lock on mine with sudden intensity, a flash of the commanding warrior he'd once been. "Promiseyou'll take care... of my daughter. That you'll…understand. You aren't…aren't just…a nanny."
My throat closes completely. I can only nod, can only hold his hand tighter as if I can anchor him here through sheer desperate will.
His smile is soft. "Good."
Another spasm wracks his body, worse this time. His back bows, muscles seizing, and the sound that tears from his throat is pure animal agony. I fold over him, one hand cradling his head, the other still clutching his hand, murmuring nonsense words of comfort that we both know are meaningless.
"It's alright. You're alright. Just breathe. Valas is coming. He's coming."
But where is he? How long does it take to get here from his practice? Minutes? Hours? Every second stretches like pulled taffy, thick and endless.
Daryn's breathing changes. Gets shallower. More labored. Each inhale sounds like it's being dragged through broken glass.
"Please." I don't know who I'm begging anymore. Daryn. Valas. The Thirteen. Anyone who might be listening. "Please don't go. Not yet. She needs you. We all need you."
His eyes are starting to drift, focus slipping. But he's still fighting, still clinging. Still trying to stay for just a little longer.
"Tell her..." The words barely form. "Tell Amisra... I love her. Always... loved her."
"You can tell her yourself." The lie tastes like ash. "When you're better. When Valas gets here and fixes this."
"Val can't..." A pause, gathering strength. "Can't fix everything. Some things... just are."
Footsteps pound in the hallway. Running. Fast.
"Daryn!" Valas' voice, sharp with panic.
He explodes into the room, violet eyes wild, already reaching for magic. The air crackles with it—healing energy, diagnostic spells, everything in his considerable arsenal.
He drops beside us, hands immediately going to Daryn's chest, his throat, checking pulse and breathing and a dozen other things I can't name. His face goes from panicked to devastated in the space between heartbeats.
"No." Just that. Flat denial. "No, you stubborn bastard, you're not doing this. Not today. You said you had more time."
Magic floods the space, so thick it makes my skin prickle. Bright violet-white light pouring from Valas' palms into Daryn's chest. I feel the power of it, the sheer desperate force he's wielding.
But Daryn's breathing doesn't change. Doesn't improve.
"Val." His friend's voice is barely audible now. "Stop."
"Shut up." Valas' jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. More magic, pouring out like water from a broken dam. "Just shut up and let me work."
"Can't... fix this." Each word costs him. "We both... know."
"I said shut up." But Valas' voice breaks on the words. His hands shake where they press against Daryn's chest, magic flickering, faltering.
Failing.
Daryn's free hand lifts, catches Valas' wrist. The gesture stops him cold.
