I’m here, Moirthalen. Hold on. Don’t let him find it. You need to push him out.
How? I don’t know how.
Her voice is ragged, breaking apart. I can feel her slipping, her thoughts scattering. She’s trying so hard to hold on, and it’s not enough. The way she’s doing it is never going to be enough.
She builds another wall anyway. I feel her pour everything she has into it. Every scrap of will she has left. The barrier is rough, uneven, and riddled with cracks.
But it holds … for now.
The mage slams against it. And the impact shudders through her, throughme,and through the bond that connects us. Spiderweb lines crack across the wall she’s built. He hits it again. And each impact sends pain through both of us.
She’s not going to last. She can’t. He’s too strong, too experienced, and she’s already on the brink of exhaustion.
There’s a way to stop this, but you have to trust me.
How?
The magic that’s been weaving around you. The Nightwild Guard. If you accept it, I can reach you. I can help you fight him.
What will it do to me?
She wants to know if it will change her, and the truth is I don’t know. I could lie. I could tell her it’s safe. I could promise her things I have no right to do.
I don’t know. It won’t kill you, I know that much. But if you don’t, then the mage is going to take everything you are, Moirthalen.
Another wall crumbles. The mage surges forward, reaching for memories of the village, and faces of everyone who helped us.
Alleria … Aethryn. The word slips out before I can stop it. Aethryn—my love.
Aethryn, please. Let me in.
She’s drowning, her mind fragmenting under the assault, thoughts scattering faster than she can gather them. She can’t hold the walls and think at the same time. She can’t fight the mage and make a decision. She’s losing, and she knows she’s losing. The terror of that is bleeding through the bond in waves.
So I do something I have never done before.
I reach through the bond with everything I am. Every scrap of power I have. I take hold of the connection between us and I build. Not just a wall around her mind, but a space. A pocket of stillness inside the chaos, where the mage won’t be able to follow for a little while.
It costs me. Gods, it costs me. I can feel my magic draining out of me. My vision swims. My hands shake where they’re braced against the ground. Somewhere far away, I can hear Therin’s voice, but I can’t answer him. I can’t do anything except pour myself into this barrier, this moment of quiet I’m carving out for her.
The world shifts …
And then she’s in front of me. Not the real her, but an image built from her consciousness. Her body is still in the room while the mage batters against the barrier I’ve built. But the part of herthat matters is here, standing in the darkness with me.
She looks exhausted. Her hair is tangled, her eyes red-rimmed. There’s blood at the corner of her mouth—an echo of what’s happening to her flesh.
“Cairn?” Her voice shakes. “What is this? Where are we?”
“Between. Between your mind and mine.” I move toward her. “He can’t reach us here. But we don’t have long.”
She looks around, but there’s nothing to see other than emptiness stretching in every direction.
“I can’t feel him.” Relief creeps into her voice. “He was tearing through everything and now?—”
“He still is. I’m holding him back for now.”
She looks at me then, taking in the sweat beading on my face, the strain I’m sure that’s visible around my eyes.
“You’re hurting yourself.”
