75. AT DEATH’S DOOR
I let out a cry as I hurtled us through space. But by the god’s good graces, I managed to do it, while practically holding in my own entrails.
Both Dionachs used their wings to steady us into a semi-graceful landing, and thank the gods for them, because the moment we landed at the edge of the wraith’s sacred spring, the little bit of strength and power I had managed to regain was completely spent.
“Take us into the water,” I said, pointing a shaky hand through the darkness.
Weston hauled me into the pool, the other Dionach close on his heels, carrying Breck. I sucked in a breath as the cold water washed over the wounds on my abdomen.
“Wraith!” I called out. “Wraith!”
The cavern was bathed in the same faint glow as before, stippling the ceiling with the water’s strange reflection. A small fire was steadily roaring at the opposite end, providing enough ambient light for us to vaguely see our surroundings.
A moment passed, then a figure scurried from the depths of the cave and peered around a massive stalagmite. She gasped. “You!” In an instant, she appeared before us in the water.
Both Dionachs jolted back.
“It’s all right,” I said. “She’s a friend.”
“You are hurt,” the wraith said. She dipped below the water’s surface to look at the damage. When she emerged, she blinked her wide eyes and stared at me in shock. “You should be dead.”
Weston’s hands tightened around me.
“How did this happen?” the wraith asked, looking between all of us.
“I’ll explain later.” I peered down at myself, but the cavern was too dark, the water to black to see if the wounds were healing. “How long will it take to heal?”
She watched me, her face full of genuine concern. “Minutes. Hours. I do not know.” She turned to assess Breck next, cupping her hands around his jaw and lifting his face. His head tipped backward, splashing into the water.
“Is he . . .” I couldn’t finish the question. I didn’t want to say the word.
She placed a hand across the width of his neck. “He has a very faint pulse. It falters . . .” She looked up at the Dionach. “Submerge him—fully.”
“What?” My voice cracked. “No! He’ll drown—”
“He needs the water inside him as well. It will not drown him. It can only heal.”
“How do you know?” Weston asked.
“There is no time to explain,” she said, pressing Breck further into the water.
The Dionach looked back at us for permission.
“Do it,” I said.
He obeyed.
As Breck’s body sank beneath the surface, my own began to tingle. I rested my head against Weston’s chest and slid further into the water until it was lapping at my ears and my extremities were floating. I hoped that whatever magic this pool contained was enough to fix what had been done.
I thought of Niall, wishing it were his arms I was lying in and his face that stared back at me. But it was Weston who held me, worry and anxiety etched into his familiar features. At least I was with someone I knew—someone I trusted.
I inhaled deeply but felt like I couldn’t get a full breath in.
My wounds began to crackle beneath the water, like my skin was fissuring all over again.
The pain seeped back in, becoming unbearable within an instant.
I met Weston’s unwavering stare as my vision began tunneling. “Weston—I don’t feel right . . .”
He shifted me in his arms. “Auren? Auren!”
Everything blurred.
“What’s happening to her?” he shouted.
“The waters are working,” the wraith answered, but her voice was starting to sound further away as I slipped in and out of consciousness.
Weston said something else, but I couldn’t make out what it was.
I blinked, trying to find his face as I said, “Don’t hurt her.”
He knew of whom I spoke. His glance at the wraith confirmed it.
My head drifted to the side, and the last thing I saw was the wraith, bobbing in the water, watching, waiting. Then, darkness swept in like a rampant tide, taking my consciousness with it.
There was nothing to see in the dark abyss—no strange presence, no voices tearing at my senses.
Just a gentle humming that rippled over my body in waves.
I wasn’t sure what it was, or why it hovered over my abdomen.
I didn’t seem to care enough to dwell on either thought.
I just drifted, attuned to the gentle energy that purred along my skin and left me lost to time.
When I opened my eyes, the room was still dark.
No, not a room . . . A cavern.
I gasped, remembering where we were and what had happened.
Above me, a pair of black wings, disheveled brown hair . . .
Weston’s eyes widened. “She’s awake!” He shifted his body, lifting me partially out of the water.
The wraith splashed into view, her cold hands suddenly clutching onto my forearm. “How do you feel?”
“Alive,” I answered. And it was good to see that Weston had listened and not blamed the wraith when I’d passed out, or . . . died. I wasn’t sure which one had happened, and I was too afraid to ask.
In the time that I’d been assumedly unconscious, we had moved. We were closer to the edge of the pool, and from the looks of it, Weston had been resting against a large rock while holding me.
“How long was I out?”
“An hour, if I had to guess,” he answered.
It hadn’t felt like an hour at all.
I brought my hand to my abdomen, feeling for any sign of my wounds.
Nothing, no gashes or indentations. No pain.
Just the shredded pieces of leather that hung from my vest where Skadi’s shadow had sliced into me.
The skin on the palm of my hand was sealed and smooth, and my face no longer hurt or felt swollen.
I lifted a finger to where the arrow had pierced my chest. The hole was gone. The water had healed me completely.
Movement caught my attention from across the pool.
It was the auburn-haired Dionach, the one who had jumped in front of me to save my life. The one who . . .
My eyes drifted down his arms, into the water. He was holding something down.
Memories barreled through my mind. Shadows, and black fur, and blood running over the forest floor, and—
“Breck! Is he . . . Has he not woken up?”
The wraith slowly shook her head.
“How long does it normally take? The water will heal him, won’t it?”
Her face remained solemn. “He was dangerously close to death. So were you, but your god-blood gave you an advantage that he did not have.” She looked over her shoulder to where the other Dionach stood. “It could take time. Or . . . time might not be enough.”
No, that could not be.
My feet found the floor of the pool, and Weston released me. “Careful,” he cautioned.
I waded through the water toward the other Dionach. He turned, but he did not remove his hands from the water.
I searched the stranger’s eyes for something unspoken, some sort of confirmation that there was still life left in the body he held beneath the water. I was too scared to ask him, fearing the finality of the four-letter word that panged against the back of my mind.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
He glanced over his shoulder at Weston before returning his gaze to me. “We have prayed to your gods for your friend’s complete healing.”
It was the first time I’d heard him speak, and his words surprised me. “You . . . you prayed to my gods?”
“Yes. Weston told us that you are descended from them.”
I looked back at Weston, who was speaking softly with the wraith.
“I am,” I said, finding the Dionach’s eyes again.
From what I could tell in the dim light, they were brown, like mine.
I glimpsed a sliver of hope in them, and though it didn’t replace the fear in my gut, it soothed the jagged edges of it.
A dozen questions lined up on the edge of my tongue, but the water suddenly rippled between us, breaking my train of thought.
Breck’s entire body twitched beneath the surface, and the Dionach sprang into action. He reached below and lifted him up. The moment Breck’s head was above water, he began heaving in breaths of air. His frantic eyes found mine, and that seemed to be all he needed to remember what had happened.
“Auren . . .”
I didn’t wait. I flung my arms around his neck. “You’re alive!”
He closed his arms around me in return, stumbling as he found his footing beneath the water. His breathy laugh warmed my neck. “I’m guessing that’s all thanks to you?”
“Not quite.” I pulled away to look at him, then gestured to the pool.
“Where are we?”
“In Calledan. I ported us here because the waters have healing abilities, and you and I were . . .” My words faded as I peered down at where his wounds had been.
His hands immediately went there, to feel for any sign of damage. “I—I thought I was dead.”
“You nearly were.”
“But . . . you were hurt too. I remember. I saw the blood.”
“I’m fine. The water fixed it.”
“The water . . .” He ran his hands through it and watched it drip from his fingertips. “It can heal anything?”
“I think so. The wraith has been sustained by it for thousands of years.” I pointed toward the creature, her pale form and long black hair bobbing in the water next to Weston.
Stunned, Breck took a step back, then recognized the presence behind him. He whirled, and the Dionach held up both hands.
“It’s all right. He helped bring you here,” I explained. “Though . . .” I turned toward the stranger. “I do not know your name.”
“Saxon,” the Dionach said, dipping his head forward.
“Thank you, Saxon, for helping us.”
He gave me a soft smile, inclining his head once more, but his acknowledgement was cut short by a bright flash of light that illuminated the cavern.
Saxon’s wings spread, thrashing the water in their wake as he spun and withdrew his swords.
Standing at the edge of the pool, clad in pristinely kept robes, was Syros, The Adorner.
My arm shot out in front of Saxon. “Wait! I know him. Lower your weapons.” I spoke the command loud enough for Weston to hear, and he lowered his sword too, as instructed.
The wraith slunk further into the water until she was barely noticeable against a nearby alcove.
Syros remained still, peering out across the chamber, seemingly confused. When I willed an orb of light in my hand and sent it up above us in the air, illuminating our faces, his eyes widened. “My Lady? What are you . . .” His voice trailed off as he glanced between me, Breck, and the two Dionachs.
“Long story,” I said.
He nodded warily, then cleared his throat. “I’ve been summoned here.”
“What for?”
“For him.” Syros pointed a finger at Breck.
“Me?” Breck shook his head. “W-Why?”
“To bestow your shroud.”