Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
At first light, stiff and nowhere near rested, we prepare to leave Elyrion.
The border is only a five-minute walk away, so we leave the car behind. Cáel’s crossing spell will not work on a vehicle.
As we draw nearer, Thea slips into step beside me and asks every few moments how I feel.
I keep insisting that I am fine.
Cáel’s team follows. He assures us that, once we cross, a pickup crew can reach us within fifteen minutes.
Everyone watches me as though I am a grenade with the pin already pulled.
At the border, the ward shimmers in the cold air where it meets the open ground, and a faint distortion ripples across the landscape.
Cáel positions himself on my left, Thea on my right.
Neither of them will cross before me.
Cáel activates the ward tunnel—a narrow rectangle of folded magic that turns the barrier inwards and leaves a clear passage through the centre.
Four of his people cross first.
We wait for their signal.
Mina whines.
“Wait,” I tell her, then step into the tunnel.
Thea takes my hand, her fingertips over my wrist to track my pulse. I force it to remain steady.
One step, then another.
The ward quivers on either side of me. Its magic hums against my skin, but the passage holds.
I remember the last time I crossed a border.
Fourteen years old, on a school trip—the same trip that took us to the Aegis Spire and beyond. That was before the Games.
I have not left the city since.
This feels monumental.
Thea’s fingers tighten as I take the final step—
Pain.
It tears through me, white and absolute.
Cáel catches me around the waist and hauls me backwards.
Then there is nothing.
I come to on cold grass.
I do not understand what he says, but Cáel’s voice is tight with emotion. Thea’s hands cradle my face, and winter air bites at my skin.
Someone is crying softly.
“She’s breathing,” Thea says. “She’s breathing.”
Their magic moves through me. Thea’s Thread light is precise and delicate. Cáel’s healing is warm, flooding my chest and sinking deep beneath my ribs.
Everything aches.
My lips taste of blood.
“I’m all right,” I croak. “Vivian, don’t cry. I’m fine.”
I blink upwards.
Thea kneels over me, her head bowed, one hand braced against my shoulder.
She looks terrified.
Cáel looks positively green.
Mina lies sprawled across my legs, ears flattened, her chest heaving.
Vivian stands a little way off with both hands pressed over her mouth. She does not come nearer.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Your heart stopped,” Thea whispers.
“Another brain bleed,” Cáel adds.
“Right.” I breathe out carefully. “So that didn’t work.”
I try to sit up.
Thea presses me back down. “Please. Just—please give it a moment.”
Her clinical calm is gone.
Instinctively, I reach for Cáel’s hand. He takes mine as though it is made of glass.
“I feel all right,” I begin.
“I don’t,” Thea interrupts. “That reaction—” She glances towards Vivian. “I’m sorry. We had to try. I should have foreseen it, but this magic is unlike anything I’ve encountered.”
“How could you have known?” I say. “You said it yourself. It’s ancient. Almost alien.”
I push myself onto my elbows.
Thea protests.
“I’m all right.”
Mostly true.
My chest feels as though something heavy has been sitting on it, but Cáel’s healing will have dealt with the worst of the damage.
Mina shifts away from my legs as I roll onto my knees. I wait for the world to stop tilting, then stand with Cáel’s help.
Only then does Vivian close the distance. She takes my arm and grips it hard enough to bruise and says nothing at all.
“Thank you,” I say to Cáel.
He nods, still pale and far too close to shaking.
“Are you all right?” I ask.
“I’m all right.” His grip tightens around my hand. “That was… horrible.”
“I know.” I manage a small smile. “I’m glad I was unconscious for most of it.”
I do not add that I felt every second before the darkness took me.
One of Cáel’s men brings the car around, and they help me inside.
“Are the trackers still blocked?” I ask, flexing my wrists.
Even that small movement hurts.
“Yes,” Cáel says. “The wards are holding.”
“Good. Thank you.”
I stare at the roof lining for a moment, then say, “I think we should go up.”
Everyone looks at me.
“The Immortal Zone,” I clarify. “The rune network doesn’t reach that high. My magic returns, the drain stops, and I’m no longer feeding the network.” I let the words settle. “It’s the one place we know I’m not making matters worse.”
Silence fills the car.
Which is not the whole truth, and I make myself say the rest of it aloud. “The magic I use up there comes from down here.” I look at my hands. “A few days ago I decided I would never touch it again. I’m deciding differently now, and I would rather everybody heard me do it.”
“Absolutely not,” Thea says.
I turn.
“Your heart stopped a quarter of an hour ago.” Her voice is perfectly level, which is worse than shouting. “I have no idea what that magic will do to you now, and nor does anybody else in this car. You need three days flat on your back and a clinic.”
“We don’t have three days.”
“I am well aware of what we do not have.” She presses the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I am telling you, as your doctor, that this is a terrible idea. And I want it on the record that I said so.”
“Noted,” I say gently. “And ignored.”
“Yes. I assumed.”
“They won’t expect me to go back,” I add. “Not after everything.”
Nobody answers that either.
“Besides, there’s an Overseer I’d like to speak with.”
Cáel’s expression tightens. “Preston.”
Exactly.
I still have a mystery to solve.
“We need to know what he knows,” I say. “What he believed he was part of and how far this mess extends.”
“When did this occur to you?” Cáel asks.
“Over tea.” I turn towards him. “All my best ideas arrive with a mug in hand.”
He almost laughs.
Almost.
“And the lift?” he asks. “The usual routes will be locked down. Our credentials will have been revoked.”
I glance at Vivian. “Do you remember the Gilded Drop?”
Vivian laughs—properly and unexpectedly—and the sound fills the car. “Oh,” she says. “I remember.”