With the Moragorion, it was slow. That first attempt was marked by trepidation. Not this time.Thistime, the power comes roaring. There’s no chance to isolate organs or pick through the invisible tapestry to pluck a precise thread. My will is simple.
Destroy.
The skakabri let out a horrific, high-pitched, strangled sound, and their bodies torque with acrackthat pitches my stomach. They spasm as they crumple to the cavern floor. But there are two more behind them, with another three on their tail.
My head whips toward Cygnus, who’s managed to bring down two and is dancing with a third, hacking at its legs until he leaps to dodge the stinger that slams into the earth, right where he stood seconds before. I summon another wave of power, channeling it through my back and arms and palms. Then, as a raw, animalistic sound tears from my throat, I aim it toward the next wave.
More strangled squeaking. Several explode this time, à la the Moragorion.
Exhaustion forces me to my knees.
Never have I drawn so much power at once. Stars pop into my vision, and I blink at the remaining scorpions. Two more rush toward us, scrambling down from the walls.
I hear athunkand whirl toward Cygnus. He’s clutching his arm as the sword clatters to his feet. The scorpion he’s been fighting scuttles around to bite again.
I reach for my Talent, and it is like scraping the bottom of an empty sack. Nothing. Blood rushes to my head; I feel myself teetering on the edge of consciousness.
NO!that internal voice, that primal part of me, roars. Desperately, it battles to keep me awake. I claw at my power like I’m digging into frozen ground with my fingernails. That voice cries again:IT WILL NOT END LIKE THIS.
I lunge for Cygnus’s sword.
The nearest scorpion strikes at the same moment, but I’m faster. I seize the handle and swing the sword overhead. It connects, slicing the scorpion’s head off. But its tail swings, clipping my shoulder and knocking me to the cavern floor. I crash headfirst, blasting with pain upon impact.
One more. Just one more.
Back turned, I can hear the monster scuttling toward me. I can smell its awful stench, like carrion and metal, infecting my every labored breath….
My eyes fall shut, and I brace for the blow that will take my life. My last thoughts soar to Finn. How he looked in the garden, the sunlight against his hair, his laugh, the rough feel of his hands…
I hear acrackand prepare for pain and darkness. But neither comes.
Something heavythudsbehind me.
Then silence.
Slowly, disbelieving, I lift my head. Cygnus stands over a fallen skakabri, a jagged rock buried in the monster’s head.
His gaze meets mine. Blue fire in the darkness.
“I’msosorry,” he mumbles.
And then he collapses.
raw, guttural howl fills the darkness, and I don’t understand at first that it’s my voice. As I drag myself toward Cygnus, I’m commanding him over and over to live. Screaming that he isnotallowed to die. Not like this. First, I need answers.
He’s fallen face down. It takes all my strength to heave him over. Ripping his shirt open, I discover a deep pincer slice across his pectoral and bicep. I rip another strip of the fabric and knot a tourniquet, hard. It won’t be enough. He’s lost so much blood already.
I reach for my magic, but there’s nothing left after that fight. The absence is like a missing limb. I canfeelwhat I need to do, where the threads of his life force are withering, fading into nothingness.
Violent tremors take over my hands. I press my palms on the wound, and blood oozes around my fingers.“Please,”I’m begging, but to whom? The Gods? My Talent? Him? I press harder, and my vision blurs. It must hurt, because Cygnus’s eyes flutter open.
“Water,”he rasps.
“What?”
“Water,”he repeats, with even more strain.
“I know, I know, you’re probably thirsty….”
