Chapter Thirty-Two
Give
“Give her everything you’ve got!” Varic’s voice is a mix of fear and determination.
A cruel machination crafted by my evil mind. A fucking nightmare presented to me at the precipice of death. Or is this the afterlife?
“Give her everything, Cirrin, everything! That can’t be all—you have to have more.” Varic’s voice cracks. “She needs more.”
“I promise I’m trying, but I don’t—my healing, it’s not penetrating.” Cirrin’s voice wavers. “I swear I’m trying, Varic. She’s blocking me or something. I’m not able to get through.”
Be careful, Tasch. Mirinea’s warning reverberates ominously.
Varic’s hand travels down my jaw in this cruel conjuring of my mind, and the rough texture of his fingertips feels real as they rove, then press into the pulse point in my throat.
“That’s impossible,” Varic says. “It takes the strongest force sorcerers years to learn how to block magic while awake. She couldn’t possibly do so while unconscious.”
This gift of yours is not one to reveal to just anyone. Mirinea’s voice is louder this time.
Varic scoffs, then pauses. “You can do this.”
Cirrin grunts with effort, and it feels as if the sound pulls me closer, though I can’t push past that sleep-wake plane, forced to endure this nightmare even longer. “It’s not working.”
“What do you mean it’s not working? What does it feel like—” Varic begins.
“Here, do you want to try it?” Cirrin asks, exasperated.
“I…yes. Tell me how you pull on your healing magic, what it feels like.” Varic says.
A chill rolls from the top of my skull all the way down my spine into the tips of my toes.
“I focus on the being I mean to heal, and I seek out what ails them,” Cirrin begins. “I ask the question in my mind, then await an answer in the form of a pulsing sensation, which communicates where to focus the magic, then a coolness runs from my hands to the source of their need.”
“What exactly are you thinking of doing, Varic? Because if you’re thinking of trying to heal her, you know that’s unsanctioned,” Malin interrupts.
A gift like this is one which spells certain death for yourself and all of those bonded to you, were your ruler to ever find out. Mirinea’s voice repeats.
“I am not going to allow her heart to give out,” Varic seethes.
“The consequence of using unsanctioned magic is death,” Malin says.
“Then turn me in, just please wait until after she’s safe,” Varic grits between clenched teeth, wrapping his hands around my arm, feeling so real it’s cruel.
“No one is turning you in, Varic,” Lars says, pointedly.
“I can feel her pulse as if I’m holding her heart in my hand,” Varic says.
Silence follows as a coolness permeates my skin and swirls within my chest, though it’s fainter and carries a different color than Cirrin’s—because it’s Varic’s—a gorgeous glowing amber.
“That’s a good way to describe it,” Cirrin says. “If you’re feeling her need that clearly, try imbuing her with energy.”
“What does that entail?”
“Focus on the energy inside your own body and imagine sharing it with her, kind of like pressing it from the palm of your hand into her skin—which sounds strange, but it makes sense once you do it.”
More of the amber-hued healing drifts into my dream-state being, feeling more realistic than I’d expect with my mind’s way of remembering and honoring all his magic did for me.
“I think I feel a faint heartbeat—” Cirrin says.
“Everyone try to imbue her like I am. Now,” Varic commands.
“I don’t sense anything like you describe,” Lars says.
“Me either,” says Fray.
“You’re not trying hard enough. There’s no reason only my magic would permeate.”
His healing tugs on me, almost as if it’s pulling me back to the world of the living.
“Come on, Tasch,” Varic cries, and it feels as if a knot forms in the center of my throat. “You can do this, mei waella.”
If I were alive, I would swear a thrill runs through my body when his hands shift up to cradle my face.
I need to wake up.
I can’t do this anymore.
I need this torment to end.
Varic drops a hand to press his fingertips into my wrist. “Cirrin! Her pulse is stronger. Here, feel it.” A different hand replaces his own as he leans in and whispers, “You’re doing it, mei meida. I knew you could.”
A warming sensation unfurls in my chest. Fuck he has a way with words. Then my heart constricts, knowing I’ll never get to learn what these terms he uses for me mean. Because I refuse to demand someone else tell me. It wouldn’t be the same.
“You’re right. It is,” Cirrin says.
“Should we try to wake her?” Lars asks.
My throat constricts at the sound of his voice. Lars—the least likely to have made it out alive.
A choking cry rumbles in my chest, and I curl into a ball over the soft surface.
I changed my mind. I can’t wake up to a world without them. I won’t make it.
I need this dream to last. I can’t handle the anguish that will come when I wake to find them dead. My sobs grow louder—stronger—and my cheeks feel wet with tears.
“You did it, Cirrin! She’s okay!” Fray exclaims.
Hysterical laughter tears through me, sniffling. In this way at least, I can keep them with me. I never wanted a life with Guards by my side at all times, but now that they’re gone, I want nothing more than for them to exist beside me forever.
“Tasch? Are you awake?” Cirrin asks, rubbing circles over my shoulder with warmth and pressure which feel too real for me to believe this is just a dream.
I sit up abruptly, dazed and blinking, then wait for my vision to focus. My hands roam to grasp the closest thing—a warm hand wearing a smooth metal ring on the pinkie finger.
My jaw drops, and my eyes finally adjust enough to see Cirrin sitting on the bed before me.
His kind brown eyes stare back at mine, though he’s so full of concern and stress, his deep brown skin is etched with more severe lines than I’ve ever seen creasing his forehead.
“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Cirrin runs his hands up and down my arms when I jolt forward, pulling him into a desperate hug as my cheeks wobble against his chest, too weak to do anything but melt into him as he pats my back gently.
“Shh shh shh.” He shifts, lifting his hands up to cup my face with a smile before shaking his head as I smile back, tears spilling.
“You gave us quite the scare, mei waella.”
My heart leaps at the sound of Varic’s voice, and I am shocked I don’t snap back immediately to be able to see him. Yet something slows me down, and I extract myself from Cirrin’s grasp in slow motion, only to whimper as I turn and capture the exhaustion radiating from Varic’s expression.
Repressing the urge—the incredible sting in my muscles which scream for me to run to him. Every part of my being which yearns to crush him to my chest and breathe him in. To shove him down on the bed and pin him beneath my hips to make sure he never leaves me again.
I need to feel him. To know that he’s real. He’s alive. He’s here. And he’s mine.
“You’re alive,” I croak.
Varic’s cheeks wobble as he presses his lips into a line, glancing from Fray to Cirrin, then Lars.
“How? Wait.” I scan the room, heart sinking. “Where’s Malin?”
Lars’ smile means Malin is alive, and his gaze drifts to the doorway just as Malin walks in. My heart lurches with shock at how good he looks, with only the typical amount of stray hairs having found their way out of his top-knot.
“You’re awake,” he says, and I snort.
“Good to see you, too.”
He nods in response, and I stare at where he shows off with his purple magic trailing in just behind him, swirling beneath a tray carrying a pitcher of water and a glass for each of us.
He sets it on a side table near Fray, who lounges on the opposite side of the quaint room in what must be one of the many safe houses hidden across the Empire.
My heart clenches at the way Fray reclines so far back his long legs stretch out from the dark brown leather chair angled in the darkest corner—which I hope to be the reason his pale skin appears grayer than usual.
His hand trembles as he reaches beneath his collar, tugging on my heart as he gently pulls on the black leather cord until he frees the green glass vial. He noticeably deflates, releasing a breath once his fingers make it all the way around the vessel, verifying it’s still intact.
“What is it with you and that thing?” Malin scoffs.
“Have you forgotten every other time I have explained it to you?” Fray asks, narrowing his eyes as he tucks the vial back. “I swear to you, there will come a day where it will be useful, and you will regret ever having teased me about wearing it, or caring if it is intact.”
Malin opens his mouth to answer when Fray cuts him off.
“Here, let me ask you a question. How are you able to tell when someone’s using unsanctioned magic again?”
Malin’s eyes fall closed as he drops his head back, emitting a rare groan in response.
“I have explained this to you,” Malin complains. “Countless times.”
Fray shrugs, leaning forward to brace his forearms over each thigh.
Cirrin moves closer, propping himself against a bedpost as I sit farther back on the mattress, while Lars pours water into each of the glasses before Malin grabs one with his telekinesis and delivers mine in a swirl of purple mist.
“Why you never retain the information, I’ll never understand.
” A deep sigh seeps from between my telekinetic Guard’s lips before he acquiesces.
“The energy is different—wobbly, or uneven. Often it’s more jagged—whereas the inborn magic one uses the most is smoother, more even.
It’s easy to discern when you’ve used this magic since childhood,” Malin says, and Fray nods.
Lars clears his throat and catches my eye with a meaningful look, so I straighten my spine to prove I am listening.
“Before we were interrupted by Fray’s penchant for curiosity, you asked how we are still alive, so I will tell you,” he says, though it was Malin who interrupted him.
“The second Fray soared out the window, I went to dive for the bomb so I could run it into the woods.”
“But instead of bear-hugging the bomb and running away with it, he bounced off of an invisible force-shield and fell flat on his ass,” Cirrin explains with a slight smile pulling on his full cheeks.
I knit my brows and look to Varic for confirmation, to which he nods, staring back at me with such intensity I drop my gaze and study the ripple of the sigil tattoo flexing over the back of his hand as he lifts a glass to his lips.
I pull in a shallow breath as he sets it down to take off in a stride filled with urgency toward me.
“Malin raised the bomb off the ground so that Varic’s suppression bubble could surround it mid-air, so it wouldn’t obliterate your floor,” Lars adds, beaming with pride at the sorcerer in question. “Or so we assume, since we’ve never known force magic to suppress a bomb before.”
Heat spreads up my chest as I turn back to Varic’s pained expression from where he stands so close, the front of his thighs press into the bedframe, compressing the bit of bedcovers which have fallen over the side.
“Remember when you taught me how to focus my energy on a more concentrated area so that my attacks could be more precise? Then you helped me gain more control over how much power I expel every time I blast?” I nod, almost laughing at how he has no idea just how often I recount every second of our time together.
“Well, I continued to practice everything you taught me after you left.” He pauses, dropping his gaze to my hands folded neatly over my lap. “And I have since learned to modify a force-shield to act as what we can call a protective shield in order to contain something—”
I raise my brows and say what I assume he would have, “Explosive.”
Lars zooms forward to clap Varic on the shoulder and says, “It seems the new leader of your Guard can suppress the most destructive bomb in existence inside his force bubble.” The tone of his voice is sincere as he looks at Varic with a mix of awe and gratitude.
“He called it a protective shield,” Malin corrects, side-eyeing.
“The fact that I am able to sit here,” I begin, shaking my head, “on a plush bed inside of a safe house, which was built for this purpose, with all five of my surviving Guards gathered around me, because the sorcerer I was sent to rehabilitate all those years ago has expanded upon a skillset I taught him—” I cannot seem to stop shaking my head as Varic studies me, his amber eyes shifting and changing as different emotions flit behind each.
“Do you understand the gravity of this reversal?” I ask, as Varic’s expression turns almost sheepish.
“You have trained your magic to save the lives of the most important beings in the Continent to me, in a way we’ve never known to be possible, with the same inborn power you once detested, simply by using it with more awareness and finesse. ”
A flush spreads over each of his cheeks until it reaches the center of his nose as he smiles back at me. Then all at once—it’s as if his energy has finally been tapped from all that’s happened—Varic collapses.