“It’s Durvla!” Chiyoko shouts.
Everyone rushes toward her only for shadows to whip out at them.
“Ava, do something!” Chiyoko says, jabbing the woman with the braids.
Ava faces the shadows, her hands up, but nothing happens. More shadows whip out, sending everyone another step back. Neris mutters a slew of swear words beside me, her elbow linking with mine and squeezing.
“Ma, can your light get through enough to at least soothe her?” Ava asks the older woman.
The woman nods, rubbing her hands together and taking a deep breath. Her hands glow a warm white light as she steps forward, the shadows receding slightly, bending around her like water around a stone. The darkness seems almost reluctant, pulsing, as if it has its own life force. I watch as the mother-daughter duo work together to get close enough to Durvla, to reach through the dark mist, the older woman’s hand resting on Durvla’s arm before Ava follows.
In the blink of an eye, her powers die out, and Durvla lies still.
“Is she breathing?” Ava asks. Her own breath goes out of her as she leans close, pulling the neckline of Durvla’s top away for her mother to see. Tears blur my vision as Durvla is flipped onto her back, as Ava’s mother—a Healer, by the looks of it—gets to work, her hands running over Durvla’s body from head to toe, healing light emitting.
Ava turns, looking at Chiyoko and then me. “Somebody explain what happened, dammit.”
Neris nudges me again. Chiyoko still seems too overcome to speak, so I take a breath and explain to the best of my ability what happened back in Paramount. The auburn-haired man eventually volunteers to take Durvla downstairs to one of the bedrooms. Everything seems to happen too fast and too slow.
Somehow, I get my legs to move. I get cleaned up, my mind turning over a million things at once. Somewhere between washing up and putting on fresh clothing, the sobs begin. It takes me a while to realize that the sound is coming from another room and not from me, though my heart feels heavy. I stand in the corridor, an oil lamp flickering as if it’s about to die out, and I listen to the gut-wrenching cries. Durvlabegsto go back to Paramount. To save Tiernan. Her words are half incoherent, half lucid.
Then there’s abrupt silence.
I lean against the wall, my eyes squeezed shut as I sink down to the floor. As I listen to the quiet that seems so much louder than anything else.
Everyone is kind to Neris and I, which feels unnatural given that this is my fault. As with everything, Neris takes this newtransition with the utmost grace. The Healer, Alys, suggested that it would be best to keep Durvla in a sleeping state—for the sake of her overtaxed body and her mental state—so things remain almost deathly silent. As if everyone’s afraid to wake her.
Neris and I sit side by side on the couch of the common room, my entire body humming with a dull ache that reminds me I have no more elixirs as the adrenaline finally starts to wear off. Neris silently combs through her golden curls.
I cannot get the image of Radika holding that blade to her throat out of my mind. Even now, there’s a small cut on her neck. I shake the thoughts from my head, reminding myself that she is safe. She is alive.
Father however … My throat knots again, and my eyes burn.
“I cannot believe Rheon somehow succeeded in transferring powers,” Neris says as if she’s read my mind. She peers at me through curls partially covering her eyes. For a moment, there’s only silence, then she asks, “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course.” My voice comes out raw.
Neris hesitates, averting her gaze to the overly patterned carpet. The swirls and multitude of colors do nothing to help my already aching head, so I turn my focus back to her.
“I’d briefly entertained the idea of having magical abilities,” she says.
My spine straightens, my muscles whingeing, and Neris breathes out an embarrassed laugh.
“I know. Ridiculous after everything I’ve seen you experience. But what if I’d drank that potion? What would’ve become of me? Would I turn out like how you described—?” She leaves her sentence unfinished, an apologetic look on her face.
My heart sinks again. “It doesn’t matter. You didn’t drink the potion.”
“But Icould’ve. And sadly I think, given the chance, there are many who would.”
Silence stretches between us for a moment.
“But don’t worry, I might not have the magic, but I want to brush up on my fighting skills.”
My heart tugs awkwardly as I remember all the times we spent training with Father. His skills are now within the hands of yet another corrupt sect. There was recognition in his eyes for a brief moment. Can whatever was done to him be reversed? My chest feels hollow, but I cannot return to Paramount to find out. We cannot even remain here in Mainland for much longer; it’s too dangerous.
As much as I’ve hated masquerading as someone I’m not—within the Zenith, within my own household and the Pendrys’—the thought of leaving Barr na Cahar feels scarier. The unknown is always scary. But it will never become known if I don’t find the courage to face it.
In the middle of the night, I’m ripped out of my sleep by a voice practically shouting in my ear.
