But she was breathing. Still alive.
Two minutes thirty, Keane said quietly. His portal anchors were already showing strain, the silver edges flickering. Wards are pushing back harder than models predicted.
I was already moving forward, my necromancy reaching out.
The moment my magic touched the corruption around Raven, pressure slammed into my mind.
You think you can save her?
The master’s consciousness touched mine through the corruption network.
She’s mine now. This body. This mind. Every thought filtered through my will.
I pushed deeper, ignoring the voice. My necromancy traced through layers of red-black death magic, searching for Raven’s core consciousness underneath.
The corruption pushed back. Hard.
Pain spiked through my temples. My vision blurred at the edges. The master’s presence was everywhere—in the chains, in the walls, in the very air.
Let me show you what you’re trying to save.
Images flooded my mind. Raven screaming. Raven corrupted. Raven’s consciousness fracturing under pressure she couldn’t resist. Months of targeted corruption, methodical and brutal.
Marigold. Cyrus’s voice cut through the assault, close and grounding. Stay with me.
I couldn’t answer. I felt too open, too vulnerable. My necromancy diving deep left me exposed to everything the master wanted me to feel.
The corruption suddenly surged toward me through the connection.
Fire exploded across my awareness, but Cyrus burned the tendril before it could latch on. However, the flames had to go through my necromantic link to reach it.
Pain hit, sharp and immediate, like being burned from the inside. I gasped, nearly losing my grip on the contact.
Stay with me, Cyrus said again. Not to me—to his fire. Controlling it. Keeping it precise even as more corruption tried to jump the connection.
He burned it again, through me, necessary and protective.
It hurt, but I held on.
One minute forty-five, Keane’s voice was strained. Portal’s destabilizing. Whatever you’re doing, do it faster.
I pushed deeper through the layers of corruption, past the master’s interference, searching for Raven’s consciousness.
There.
Faint. Fragile. But present.
I pulled out the token pin. I held it in my necromantic awareness, letting the memory echo through the connection.
First semester. The garden. Finding this together. Laughing about the on-the-nose symbolism.
For a moment, nothing.
Just corruption pulsing and the master’s pressure crushing down.
Then…
Your familiar should be named Edgar, Raven’s voice whispered through the connection. The exact phrase, perfect memory. After Poe.
