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The alicorn unleashes that terrible bleating again as I cross the distance between her and Agnar. She struggles and fails to lift her head. Her single eye is still locked on my face. This sweet, regal creature is begging me to fulfill my duties as a Warden.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” I drop to my knees in the bloody, churned-up dirt beside her. “I’m going to try to help. If you’ll let me.”

Cautiously, I place both palms flat against her neck, where the jaw meets the throat.

Her fur is coarse under my hands, matted with foam, blood, and fluids I don’t want to identify. Beneath it, her skin burns fever hot.

I close my eyes and reach for the calm center Veradin spent years trying to teach me how to find. The place where emotion gives way to purpose. The Lull answers my call.

So does something else I don’t recognize.

I sense the light gathering at my fingertips. A warm, gentle, honey glow that’s bright even in the late afternoon sun. The old, healing words rise up from somewhere deep in my memory.

I pour the light into the alicorn, seeking the path of least resistance. Simultaneously, the arrow wound in my shoulder shrinks, the muscles regrowing and stitching together.

The alicorn’s breathing steadies. The rapid, panicked heaving of her chest eases, with each breath coming easier than the last. Relief floods me as her pain subsides, along with pride over the knowledge that I helped soothe her.

It’s working. Thank the gods and every power that watches over nature, it’s actually working.

Agnar’s sword tip hits the ground as he finally relaxes. “I’ll be a horse’s ass. You can heal wounds?”

A complicated question since this is my first time to even successfully start the spell without Veradin’s supervision. Instead of answering, I check my progress, and grateful tears leak from the corner of the alicorn’s remaining eye.

“That’s it.” I soothe her with my voice, reinforcing the Lull. “That’s it, stay with me. I can help you. I can⁠—”

The glow under my hands flares so brightly that I squint. The warmth spreads from my hands and up my arms, infusing my chest until I’m nothing but heat and purpose and determination. This is what I’m meant for. This is what all those years of training, failure, and trying again were leading toward. This moment. This creature. This⁠—

The alicorn convulses.

Her body arcs off the ground. Her legs thrash, and her wings beat in huge, awkward sweeps that tear feathers loose. She twists away, out of my reach.

As I lose contact, the light dies.

Not yet!

Lunging forward, I try to reestablish the link to finish healing her.

Her head swings round, half-healed lips pulled back and baring flat teeth perfect for crushing and tearing.

Eyes dilated and searching for a fight, her jaws snap at my throat, and foam splatters my face in foul-smelling droplets.

I throw myself backward as fear slashes through me, but she’s too fast.

Her muzzle consumes my vision. I can see down her throat, the gaping dark maw desperate to devour me.

Silver whistles past my face, reflecting back my own shocked expression.

Agnar’s blade sweeps through the pure white neck of the alicorn without a hitch.

Blood sprays over my cheeks, chest, and hands while I continue reaching out to heal her.

As her head slides free, the alicorn’s eye finds mine. The wildness is gone, leaving only relief. Her legs fold properly this time, graceful in death, her massive body settling gently into the gray dirt.

I kneel in the pooling blood, staring into her dead eye, and something cracks inside my chest.

I failed.

I had it. For one perfect moment, I had healing in my hands. The light was working.