Chapter Twenty-Two #4
each pulse more brilliant than the last, until no hint of red-tinged black nor even sickly gray shone in the incandescent
threads of her weave.
She spun that life, that love, and that fierce strength into the kits’ souls, pouring it out upon them as the Source of Dharsa
poured its waters upon the fountains and streams of the city, giving them everything, holding back nothing for herself.
The kitlings’ voices grew louder, surer. The timid, hesitant glimmers of their song became shining stars of gold and silver
light, a river of sparkling brightness that illuminated the Well as it spiraled upwards.
?Go, dearlings,? Ellysetta urged. ?Go.? She gave them each a gentle nudge with sun-bright hands.
The shining orbs that were the kitlings’ souls shifted, spreading, stretching out small limbs and wings to become small, dazzling glows of tairen-shaped light.
They soared upwards, following the river of song out of the Well.
Vadim Maur roared as he felt the bright souls of the tairen escaping from Choutarre’s grip. Bitter rage and reckless fury
warred inside him. He plunged the exorcism needle filled with Ellysetta’s blood into his own vein and whispered the release
spell. The searing rush of her powerful blood mingled with his own. His senses and his connection to her sharpened.
For the second time that night, he struck.
Ellysetta shrieked as the Mage’s dark power drove a new blade of ice into her heart.
Her light shattered, and the Well was plunged into darkness.
Dimly she heard Rain calling her name, but the sound was muffled and so far away. Weariness enveloped her. She was so tired,
her strength depleted. She’d given everything she had to the kitlings, keeping precious little for herself, and the fourth
Mark that now bloomed on her breast had drained what Light yet remained.
In the darkness and silence, she could hear the voices, the whispers, calling her name as they had at the peak of the Fire
Song. The urge to let go was nearly overpowering. She was so tired, and somehow the voices didn’t seem so frightening anymore.
Now, they seemed only welcoming.
?Ellysetta!? Rain’s voice boomed in the silence of the Well. The threads of their bond blazed with sudden incandescence as the vast, immeasurable
force of his power sizzled down them, as strong and vibrant as faerilas from Dharsa’s Source, shocking her back to alertness.
Rain, her mate. Rain, her love.
Rain, who was weaving black Azrahn in a desperate bid to free her from the Well.
A sudden surge of dark power exploded in the Well. The High Mage, who had baited his trap and waited, now struck in earnest. His magic plunged like a dagger into Rain’s weave.
“No!” she screamed in horror. “Shei’tan!”
The next thing Ellysetta knew, she was lying on the hot sands of the nesting lair, staring up into the savage blaze of lavender
eyes. Rain snatched her up, hauling her into his arms, holding her so tight she could scarcely breathe.
“Beylah sallan. Beylah sallan.” His voice cracked. “I thought I’d lost you, shei’tani.”
Terrified on his behalf, she pushed against him and tore open his tunic with a sharp weave of Earth, baring the smooth paleness
of his chest. She summoned a flicker of Azrahn, then promptly extinguished it after a brief gasp of disbelief. Rain’s chest
was luminous and Fey pale, without the slightest smudge of a Mage Mark upon it.
“I don’t understand.” Her shaking fingers trembled against his flesh. “You wove Azrahn. I saw him strike you. I felt it. Yet
you are unmarked.”
Rain clasped her hand to his breast and gave a sound that was half laugh, half sob. “How could he lay claim to a soul that
already belongs utterly to you? There is nothing I would not give, no part of me I would not sacrifice, no law I would not
break if it meant keeping you from harm. Kem’reisa sha ver. My soul is yours. Do with it what you will.”
She felt her own soul unfurl like a flower blossoming in the sun as a brilliant new bond thread spun from her deepest being
to his. Glorious and golden-white, a thread of purest shei’dalin’s love, a bond of truth and trust she knew would never be broken. She flung her arms around his neck, pulling him close.
She wept as her lips found his, claiming his mouth as she had claimed his heart and soul.
Behind them, around them, the pride began to hum, and a rich, bright melody of tairen song flowed out into the nesting lair.
Ellysetta and Rain turned. The four eggs were rocking, tears appearing in the hardened leathery hides as razor-sharp claws
poked through. Tiny muzzles, filled with egg teeth, poked through the holes, gnawing at the edges to make them larger.
Four damp, fuzzy little heads poked through, glowing, jewel-toned eyes whirling star-bright. The leathery eggs stretched and
shredded. Wriggling and squirming, the kitlings clawed their way to freedom, until all four small bodies tumbled out and lay
panting on the sands, mewing, trembling with exhaustion. Their damp wings fluttered.
Sybharukai bent her head to lick each of the kitlings dry, purring deep in her throat. The kitlings closed their eyes in bliss
and tilted up their small heads, bodies quivering with their happy, answering purrs.
“Oh, Rain.” Ellysetta held him tight, her eyes filled with happy tears.
“You did it, shei’tani.”
She shook her head. “Nei. We did it, shei’tan. You and I.”