The final anchor between soul and body stretched so thin it was nearly invisible.
About to break.
Time seemed to slow.
He could see every individual fiber of the connection coming apart. Her soul pulling upward. Her body going completely still beneath his hands. That struggling breathing had stopped entirely now.
The last thread began to fray.
His whole body was shaking now. His jaw ached from clenching. His fingernails had cut crescents into his palms without him noticing.
His mind screamed. Do something. Anything. There has to be?—
He stared at his bare hands on her chest. Right where Caelum had struck. Where her soul was trying to depart.
These hands had only ever taken. Had only ever harvested. Had only ever ended.
But she was the one person they'd never hurt.
The thought cut through his panic like lightning.
What if he could do more than touch her safely?
He could channel. He always channeled. It was his nature. But what if he channeled differently?
Not harvest. Not take.
Give.
Force his power to work in reverse. Pour his essence into her instead of draining hers away. Anchor her soul with threads of his own power. Share enough of what he was to tether her to existence.
The idea was reckless. Desperate. The kind of thing that only occurred to someone watching everything they loved slip away.
His nature didn't work that way. He took life. That was what he was built for, what he'd always been.
It might not work.
Might kill her faster.
Might destroy them both.
Three fibers left in that final thread.
But doing nothing meant watching her die.
Two fibers.
And he'd rather risk everything, including himself, than lose her without trying.
One fiber.
That heart had beaten so strongly against his palm just hours ago. Had raced when he kissed her. Had belonged to him as surely as his belonged to her.
It was barely beating now.
But it was still beating.
Which meant there was still a chance.
