48. Soren
Chapter forty-eight
Soren
One moment, Enna is safely in my arms. The next, she is crumpling like paper. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, and she collapses against my chest, twitching like a wrigglefish.
I cry out her name, clutching her close as her body continues to writhe in unnatural angles. “A healer!” I shout. “Call the healer!”
The room explodes into chaos around me. My mother’s voice rings with command, and metal clinks as weapons draw. Aris—if that’s even her name—screams. Footsteps shuffle in endless, scuttling rhythm.
In my arms, Enna’s face grows unnaturally pale, the usual soft pink hue of her skin draining quickly into cold white. I repeat her name until my throat grows sore, and even then, I whisper it with a dry, cracking voice. This cannot be happening. Whatever sick twist of fate this is, I want out. Enna is mine. The death goddess has no right to take her from me. Not now, not this soon. Not until after we’ve spent centuries fading our scales and hollowing our bones, on the verge of dissolving. Only then will I part from her.
I touch her neck, confirming the fluttering beat of her heart, the passage of her breath. She’s still with me, for now. Hands clap my shoulders, then curl around my hands, prying my fingers loose. I growl, the sound rumbling deep in my chest.
“Don’t touch her,” I say, holding her more tightly. The guard backs away, stuttering something about the healer preparing the wing. “I will take her myself.”
I walk forward on numb legs, following the familiar twists of the hallway. The marble walls tilt in a blur of white, and I nearly stumble. Someone catches my elbow, straightens me, then guides me forward. Enna shifts in my arms, her eyes darting in rapid rhythm underneath her eyelids. I increase my pace, flying through the halls as fast as I can without jostling my precious cargo. The crisp, clean scent of the healer’s wing floods my nose. The door swings open with a bang, and I’m ushered inside.
A healer points me to the back of the vast, white room. The healing tank lies horizontal on a steel platform; the glass tube clamps to the marble floor with metal straps, open to the air at the top.
I lower Enna into the warm salt water. Her body twists and snaps, clothes tearing, and her legs snap together as they form her slick black tail. Bits of cloth float to the surface of the tank. Her back arches as the water absorbs her weight, suspending her. The healer touches my shoulder, and I step away from the tank.
“We’ll take it from here,” the healer says. Her eyes are warm as honey. She approaches the tank, beginning to hum a spell. Golden light slips from her mouth, diving into the tank to surround Enna with its tendrils.
I lean against the wall, watching the magic swirl and kiss Enna’s skin. The moment's weight tugs my limbs, and I succumb, sliding down the stone to land on the floor. My head falls into my hands. I sit there, waiting, until my body becomes one with the stone.