Chapter 52
Senshi Warriors and defected Bellator alike all contributed to the chaos around them as they secured refugees.
Healers, both of Aterna Magic and Dread Magic, worked on reviving those terminally affected by Shadow’s toxic presence.
By the blight she’d become once more in their final days in the Dread Lands.
“Where is he?” asked Maeve as they entered the Celestian Palace.
“In the healing waters right now,” said Zimsy. “Abraxas is with him. He’s still not conscious.”
“Where’s Mely?”
Zimsy shook her head. “She’s not well at all.”
“Of course she’s not,” said Reeve plainly. “Death breathes at the nape of all our necks.”
“I need to see her,” said Maeve insistently.
Zimsy hadn’t been exaggerating. Mely was both better and worse than before. While some of her coloring had returned, the obvious vertigo running through her had her reeling. And with nothing left to throw up, she dry heaved every other sentence from the chaise where she lounged.
“She’s given me a wonderful concoction,” said Mely shakily, gesturing to Astrea. “I feel able to sit up at the very least.”
“Hello, Astrea,” said Maeve curtly.
Astrea nodded in reply.
“Mal?” asked Maeve at once, turning her attention back to Mely.
Mely made a distressed sound as she threw up nothing at all.
“He’s. . .no longer dying,” she managed to gasp out.
Maeve’s head tipped back as relief exhaled from her lips. She’d done it. She had successfully removed Shadow’s contamination from him.
“But,” said Mely, squirming beneath her nausea, “he’s still in terrible shape.”
Maeve nodded. She could fix that just as Reeve had gifted her with Aterna Magic long before it was hers to Inherit.
Maeve turned on her heel, prepared to head to the healing waters at once.
“Maeve,” called Astrea, her voice strained.
She turned back, and Astrea began talking before she even had eyes on her.
“I’m sorry, Maeve. I failed. I couldn’t—”
“You weren’t capable,” interrupted Maeve. “That isn’t failure. Failure would mean you hadn’t tried. And I know you tried.”
Astrea nodded, her eyes thick with tears. “I really did.”
“He’ll be fine now,” said Maeve with a nod. “I have him back now.”
Astrea nodded, and Maeve turned on her heel. She paused and looked back at Astrea.
“Is Emerie here?”
Astrea swallowed. “Emerie’s dead.”
Another mother lost to her child. Another death on Maeve’s tally of blame.
“And her girl?” she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“She’s here,” said Astrea. “She’s with the other children.”
Except Maxius.
Maeve pushed down on that thought and assured herself that soon he’d be free. She moved swiftly from the room, darting across the palace and towards the healing waters. The icy air nipped at her skin as she crossed the open archways standing above the frozen Black Deep, hurrying to Mal.
A small jolt of Magic stalled Maeve mid-step.
“No,” she breathed.
A rolling momentum of Magic violently shook through the palace. The ground itself seemed to ripple as a low grumbling noise undulated into a roar. Her footing shifted, and she gripped one of the crystal pillars, her eyes narrowed across the Black Deep.
Reeve appeared behind her as she stared across the darkened lake. His arms wrapped around her front, and he pulled her back against his chest. She allowed herself the short and fleeting moment. Reeve’s lips pressed against her hair, finding her temple in a reverent way.
It was unspoken between them what they did in their next shared breath.
Her head leaned back against his chest. Their arms moved as one, developing from their bodies and extending to either side.
The bond of Magic between them tightened, humming in joyous harmony at their shared use of Magic.
Reeve’s fingers found her own, interlacing them with his.
As they erected a new line of holy Magic, one that separated the incoming Dreaded Dead from Crystalmore and the Celestian Palace, Maeve couldn’t understand how the ability poured freely from her with no reserve.
It was as easy as twisting two fingers to lift a feather.
It had been the same with transfiguring Antony’s Magic. She willed it. And Magic answered.
“I’m by your side, Maeve,” said Reeve, his breath ghosting the side of her face.
Not enough time. There hadn’t been enough time for Shadow to possibly absorb enough Dread Magic from the Dreaded Dead to breach the wall.
But as a distinct Magical signature and the distance pretense of toxic air pricked in warning in her Magic, and as the sounds of Senshi and Dread Magicals alike prepared for incoming, she knew a final battle was upon her. Seeing Mal would have to wait.