Then he dies.
Even with all the power I wield, I can’t bring someone back from the dead.
His dark eyes are still open, but they see nothing now.
I’ve lost my mate. I’ve lost him. He was mine, mine to protect, and Disa tried to take him from me. She tried, but even she couldn’t do it. The energy that bound us was too powerful even then, even when we were still so young …
I press my hand to Reck’s chest, the blade between my thumb and forefinger. The wound isn’t bleeding anymore, but …
I can feel him.
I can feel Reck and the cu-sith. Those last two threads still cling to my wrist, like faint echoes.
Only the universe is powerful enough to take my mate from me.
And I fucking command the universe.
Energy explodes from me as I extend all my senses in all directions. I pull all the essence at my command, all the essence of the intersection point, and I direct it into those fading threads, the connection to the cu-sith the thicker of the two.
I fucking hold my soul-bound mate on the edge of the aether. Then I throw my head back and scream …
“Precious!”
Muta disappears from around my neck, as if I’ve commanded him to find the young awry for me. And maybe I have, but all I can focus on is holding … holding fast and pouring all of myself into this tenuous, final connection to Reck.
Time passes oddly — all in a rush and then not at all. I’m aware of an ongoing battle taking place around the bluff, in the water and on the beach, but the life force of the gryphon and the dragon pulses with so much vitality and power that I don’t pay close attention.
I hold onto Reck and the cu-sith’s life force, vaguely aware that I’m defying the universe in doing so … and that there will be ramifications. Ramifications that I might be willing to pay, but that might also lash back against someone else who —
Presh is suddenly beside me, sobbing. Her hands are over mine on Reck’s chest, energy pouring out of her. I’m not certain how long she’s been here. Muta is coiled next to her, using her body as a shelter from the rain and keeping watch.
Then Bellamy is there, snarling something right in my face, but I can’t hear the actual words if there are any.
I just hold. I hold steady and true. She shouts again.
“He’s mine!” I cry. “He’s fucking mine!”
“No one is fighting you,” Bellamy says. “But you have to let us help!”
I blink, clearly losing another chunk of time. Because when the night comes into sharper focus around me, the rain has stopped.
Rought and Rath both stand naked and panting behind me, slightly to the side. Their energy is depleted but still vibrant. Presh is on her knees on the other side of Reck’s supine body. Bellamy kneels by his head.
The former dire awry tips Reck’s head back and carefully pours something down his throat. “I didn’t think these would be for this asshole,” she mutters, though without heat. “We have to remove the knife.”
“But … but …” Presh stutters.
The younger awry is dripping wet, as are we all. So Presh was clearly out with me on the bluff for a while before the rain stopped.
“The knife is impeding Reck’s healing,” Bellamy says, trying to be patient as she dribbles a second brew into his mouth, then massages his bruised throat.
Her hand covered in rain-diluted blood, Presh reaches for the knife.
“No,” Bellamy snaps. “Zaya has to pull it.”
“I’m holding his threads,” I murmur. I’m not quite back in the moment, as if I’m hovering half in the aether alongside Reck.
“With your other hand, then, Conduit,” Bellamy snarls.
