The tincture may have restored us, allowed us to survive the cold, to breathe the noxious mountain air, but there are limits to its sustaining powers.
Maris’ expression clouds, her gaze trails to a snowy mound, close to where the cats are lying.
‘They’re—’
I don’t wait to hear what she’s going to say and stagger towards the mound as quickly as my quivering legs will allow, ignoring the woozy, woolly sensation muddying my head. Swallowing my fear, I force myself to peer over the rise.
Orthriel lies slumped on the snow. I kneel beside my Guardian, reaching for them. A reflex, but a stupid one. My hand passes straight through their semblance of a body. I snatch it back, wincing. It’s like I’ve dipped my fingers in iced water. My eyes rest on Orthriel’s chest, on the faint glimmer of their heartcrystal. I gasp. Still alight.
At the sound of my cry, Orthriel opens their eyes, tries to prop themself on one elbow. ‘Peace, child. I’m all right.’
My heart leaps at the deep peal of their voice.
I shake my head. ‘You’re not all right. None of you are, thanks to me.’
Orthriel locks eyes with me. That same weighted, pitying expression. What aren’t they telling me? Has Orthriel received ill-news of my mother? I try to open the door bridging our minds, press against the limits of my consciousness, but it’s like the door’s been boarded up.
‘We’re setting off for Talini, to find shelter,’ I say at last.
Orthriel nods, but a shadow passes over their face.
They gesture to their pseudo-body. ‘I’ll have to return to my true form. Even with the tincture, maintaining this illusion is draining too much Aether, I can’t sustain it.’
‘Will I be able to commune with you?’
Orthriel pauses. Searches my face. Again, that strange flicker darkens their eyes. ‘Did you hear me mindspeak just now?’
I shake my head.
‘Can you feel our connection?’
‘No. It’s been weak for so long – coming and going. But nothing now. Not since I woke up.’
A wretched expression twists Orthriel’s features. ‘Perhaps when I return to my true form…’
It hurts to see my Guardian like this – weak and unsure. They’ve always been my lodestar.
‘Go on then, dematerialise,’ I urge. ‘Do whatever you must to conserve your energy. Especially if it reopens our connection.’
Orthriel sighs. ‘Can’t you feel what you’re becoming? What you’re capable of?’ Their voice is strained, stretched thin. ‘I can feel your power rising. Surely, you can too? The weakened connection between us – yes, it’s because my Aether’s running low, but that’s not the only reason. Sometimes, it’s because you’re shutting me out. It happened with Noelani, and I recognise the feeling – like a door being closed.’
Heaviness spreads through my chest, like the draw of a corset against my ribs. I try to process their words. I’ve no idea how to reopen the door, but I push a feeling of love towards my Guardian, warm and bright as the Thaw sun must once have been, hoping they can feel it, wishing I could do more. Wishing I could take their hand, embrace them. ‘I don’t want to shut you out. You’re the only one I can be honest with, the only one I’m not keeping secrets from.’
Orthriel laughs. But it’s an oddly hollow sound. ‘We all lie, Leilani. We’re all keeping secrets.’
I swallow, not wanting to dissect any part of that statement.
‘You should return to Nimbi,’ I say instead, eyes fixed on Orthriel’s ebbing heartcrystal. ‘You’ll travel faster on the winds. Don’t wait for us.’
‘I’m bound to you, Leilani. I swore an oath.’
‘And you’re no use to me if your heartcrystal burns out.’
There’s a long pause.
‘You ask this of me?’
‘No. I command it.’
