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“Tavik,” I whispered weakly. “Stay with me.” I tore off a section of fabric from my skirt and pressed it to the gaping wound in his throat.

A sharp cry sounded from behind me, followed by a loud metal clatter. I glanced over my shoulder to find Dulsa, her face pale and her hands shaking as she took in the destruction around her. The tray of food she’d been holding had fallen to the floor.

“Help me!” I begged her. ”Dulsa, please!”

She was gaping at Gorem’s wolf, who had stopped moving, his glassy gold eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“Dulsa!” I shrieked, waving my free hand, then wincing as more blood oozed from my side.

Dulsa seemed to snap into action. She hurried toward us and knelt on the bloody floor to inspect Tavik’s wound. “Gods’ breath,” she whispered. “He’s lost so much blood.”

“Please,” I moaned, tears streaming down my face. “Save him. I’m begging you.”

“Alaric, don’t leave me,” I pleaded. “I need you. I—I can’t live without you.”

“Keep putting pressure on the wound,” Dulsa said before placing her hands on Tavik’s chest. Her eyes closed, her brows knitting together.

Shouts echoed in the hall as several other Mages approached, no doubt following the sounds of commotion.

Energy hummed in the air, and faint shadows surrounded Tavik’s wound. Icy air chilled my skin, and I suppressed a shudder.

“It’s… too much,” Dulsa grunted, her expression strained. “My magic… can’t knit the flesh back together…”

I gritted my teeth, refusing to accept this. “Let me help.” I pushed the cloth more firmly against the wound and channeled my own magic. The heal spell was my weakest spell by far.

But I had to try.

I took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the metallic scent of Tavik’s blood as it burned my nostrils.

Focus, I urged myself. There’s no one else here. Just you and your magic.

Tears continued to spill down my face, and I sniffled. I can’t lose him. I can’t lose him.

“Cerise,” said a voice inside me, weak but firm. “Cerise, you can do this.”

Sasha was awake. I felt her presence stirring inside me. She was trying to push aside her own panic at the sight of Tavik dying on the floor.

“Breathe,” she urged me. “Clear your mind. Empty it of everything except the spell.”

I drew in a ragged breath and pictured a blank white wall. No spots. No stains. Just a wall and nothing more.

Another inhale. My magic prickled to life inside me.

Heal, I thought, envisioning a roaring fire in my mind. The heal spell was always blisteringly hot, which was why I could never master it. I always shied away from the pain of it.

But not today. Not now.

Flames, I thought. A raging inferno. A fiery volcano.

My skin boiled as warmth flooded my veins.

Erupt. Explode. Consume.

The bloody cloth under my hands felt like hot coals, but I pushed harder.

Heal, I commanded.

The magic scorched my skin, and the smell of burnt flesh met my nose.