Impossible.
“Help her.”
My eyes whip back up to him…his soul.
“Help her.”
I take a stumbling step toward Thayla, and her desperate pleas finally pierce the ringing in my ears.
“It’s okay, Mrs. Armend, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s me, Thayla.” Her wide, terrified eyes jerk from the wound she’s applying pressure to in Mrs. Armend’s stomach to Kyzen. “Please check the house for Laney.”
He nods and moves so fast I can’t track him.
“Laney.”
Mrs. Armend’s breath pours out of her in a struggling gasp.
“Yes, your daughter, Laney. Where is she?” Thayla gently tilts her head toward her and cups her cheek.
My gaze snaps up to Kyzen’s as he appears in the hall, wearing a tight frown and he shakes his head.
“Th-Thayla.”
“That’s right. It’s me.”
A sense of relief seems to pass through Mrs. Armend, and even lying here, on the brink of death, her body relaxes.
“Mel…Mellcom has her. The arenas.”
A deep, soul-shuddering breath falls from Thayla. She coils back tight once again when Mrs. Armend coughs up a stream of blood.
“No, no, no. Hold on for me. We’re going to get you some help.”
My heart cracks as I kneel on the other side of Lambrit’s mother and Thayla looks at me with so much hope in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, my endling.”
She thrashes her head back and forth.
“No, Creed, please. Please don’t.”
The wad of saliva I swallow goes down like shards of a sword.
“Her soul is calling and her husband’s is waiting for her.”
“Luther,” Mrs. Armend mumbles, lifting her hand in the direction his soul is literally standing.
Unbeknownst to that fact, though, Thayla grips it in her hand and holds her tight.
“Come on, Mrs. Armend, please stay with me. Laney needs you. Please don’t leave her.”
For a fleeting moment, Mrs. Armend’s soul flickers.
The light is washed away a second later as the pain and damage done to her body hit her again.
I grit my teeth so hard my jaw pops.
“I-I need,” she stutters through her coughs.
