On hearing the desolation in my voice, Alaric's anger faded, replaced by something steadier.
"We'll keep looking," he said quietly. "We'll find her."
"But when? I want her here now.” Not knowing where she was, was driving me fucking crazy. I wanted to tear my skinoff. “There has to be something we're missing. Some spell, some artifact, somerulewe haven't considered."
“And we’ll find it.”
“Every moment she’s out there alone pushes her closer to danger.”
I turned back to the desk, my hands bracing against the edge as my mind spiraled through every possibility I'd already exhausted a dozen times.
Tracking spells, rituals, limitations of time magic, rules that governed bonds and shackles and the threads that tied souls together.
There has to be something.
But even as I searched, a darker thought crept in.
What if I was already too late?
What if the reason we couldn’t find her was because something happened?
If she was hurt. Captured. Orworse.
Merciless Gods.
I wouldn’t survive it.
I didn’t want to.
Alaric was about to speak when the double glass doors flew open.
Wind surged into the room, carrying the sharp bite of magic.
Papers scattered. Candles guttered out. The air itself seemed tocrackwith energy.
Then a flurry of Nyzith strands fluttered inside, riding the edge of the wind.
They danced through the air in twisting spirals, catching the light like fragments of stars given form.
I stiffened and stared, completely enthralled.
Gods be good. This wasn't random.
It was a message.
Something from the ring. And destiny.
I only ever saw the strands when I was being guided. The last time I saw them was in Morgäven, when Elariya and the others rescued me.
She’d seen them, too.
"Do you see the strands?" I muttered, almost afraid they’d disappear.
Alaric frowned, his gaze sweeping the room. "I don't see anything, Wolfe."
Of course, he didn't.
They were meant for me. The only other person who would have been able to see them was Elariya.
