Chapter 1 #2
“There’s a man out there who suffered a severe abdominal injury three days ago. Go make sure he’s alright, and don’t let him brush you off,” I order.
The dryad ducks his head and starts to make for the entrance when Corrin walks stiffly into the sanctuary on his own accord.
“Changed your mind?” I ask dryly.
His smirk is gone. “I just wanted to say the prince will be alright, you know.” He meets my gaze so directly that I have the urge to look away. “I’m sure they’ll find a way to help him.”
A wave of emotion crashes against me, and I fight to keep my face blank.
“Perhaps,” I say. My voice is even, but he looks at me in that maddening way, the way that sees straight through me.
“I know you have to be strong, but I’m here if you need me.”
“Why would I—” I stop, biting down the sharp reply that comes automatically. He’s right. I do have to be strong, and I appreciate him understanding that.
“Let this healer look you over,” I say, gesturing to the dryad still hovering by the door. “That’s what will be most helpful right now.” Then I walk away.
Where are we going? Barb vibrates gently against my skin. My magic means she doesn’t always have to make a sound to make herself heard.
To see the Captain, I reply, letting my magic translate my words back to her.
You should stay with the dark-haired human, she says. He needs you more.
I think about what Corrin said—his offer of support when all I supply in return is coldness and anger. For some reason, that doesn’t put him off. For some reason, that scares me.
Oh shush, I hiss back. You just like the way he smells.
Barb doesn’t argue, but she lowers her head again to sulk beneath my collar.
Morgana
Once upon a time, I thought I knew what drowning felt like—choking for air as my lungs burned for relief, fighting for every gasp. But I was wrong. That shock and pain is only the beginning.
Now I know what comes after. After your body has given up fighting, as the darkness closes in around you, and you accept that this is it now. Water everywhere, smothering all your senses, pressing down until it’s invaded every part of you.
I float in this new world, vaguely aware of things around me: people talking, moving me from one place to another.
I feel, distantly, the healers examining Leon’s body beside me.
When they speak, their voices are muffled through the ocean of my despair, but I don’t need to hear them. I already know what they will say.
Without his soul, even the power of the sanctuary cannot save Leon.
Inside me, I can feel an open wound, the part of the mooring where he should be. I was just getting used to the connection, and now his absence gnaws at the other end, like teeth on raw flesh.
It’ll be like this until I die too. And I think that will be soon. I don’t know if I can live without him.
A thought occurs to me in the fog, somehow darker and heavier than all that have come before.
Even if I die, I might not be reunited with him. Maybe we’re doomed to stay separated, his soul always adrift, just out of my reach. Surely that would be more torturous than an eternity in the Gloamlands?
“Ana, breathe with me, come on now.”
I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and look up to see Tira bending over me, her face twisted in concern. I’m gasping for air like I’ve been sprinting.
Tira coaches me through the next few minutes, until my breathing slows, and I can get words out.
“What if…what if he never—”
“Don’t say never,” she cuts me off sharply. “Not yet.” Then her features soften. “Just please drink something, will you?” she says, handing me a glass of water. “And maybe try to rest?”
I shake my head, too much fear bubbling up inside of me.
“If his soul isn’t with him, Tira, where is it?”
“That’s part of what they’re arguing about right now,” she says grimly, turning to look across the chamber.
I finally see and hear all the people gathered there, standing on the other side of Leon’s body.
They’ve lain him down on a plain bed like the one Fairon was on when he stayed here.
Behind me, there’s a basin and jug of water, and cabinets of healing supplies line the wall behind the bed.
It all seems odd to me, knowing none of it can help Leon.
The dryad healer Yanda and one of her peers look frustrated as they listen to Mal, while Lafia and Leon’s soldiers watch in silence.
“I don’t see any other way around it,” Mal says heatedly. “And if you didn’t have so many backward—”
“Backward? Gain asiste,” Yanda replies, calling on the gods to give her strength.
“Ana has a question,” Tira raises her voice to cut across the room. “She wants to know where Leon’s soul went.”
Yanda sighs, but her gaze is compassionate as she turns to me.
“The prince’s soul didn’t exactly go anywhere, Your Highness. That’s what’s so complicated.”
I look over at Leon, not understanding. “Well, it’s not inside him,” I point out. “So what did that scythe do?”
“According to legend, Ethira used the scythe to transfer his soul from a mortal form to an immortal one—” Lafia starts to speak, but Tira interrupts her.
“I never heard about that.” My friend frowns.
“They don’t teach it to the public,” Lafia says. “But they have books on it at the high temple, from before—”
“But Leon didn’t have an immortal form,” I say blankly. I’m not interested in hearing how they know this stuff; I just want them to undo it. I want him back.
“Which is why his soul is trapped,” Mal jumps in, running a hand through his short green hair. “When it separated from his body, it didn’t have anywhere to go, so it got stuck in an in-between place, unable to move on to the afterlife. That’s why my idea might—”
“Your idea is nothing short of sacrilege,” one of the dryads snarls back.
My eyes fall on Leon, and I fade out the rest of their arguing, letting the explanation sink in.
So it’s true, then. Even if I die, I won’t be able to join Leon.
The waters start to rise up over me again, threatening to carry me away altogether, but something halts them in their tracks.
A voice, booming through the sanctuary, explosive with rage.
It makes the dryads and Lafia flinch and sends the soldiers darting out of the chamber.
I recognize it. It’s the voice of King Respen, shouting something that includes Leon’s name.
And as I hear the way he’s talking about his grandson, a part of me starts to kick her way up to the surface.