The long slash that extended from my collarbone down to my ribcage still bled, and as my adrenaline began to slow down, a cloud of darkness grew in my vision. I heaved breath after breath into my pleading lungs, but it seemed like I couldn’t get enough.
Just as one of the guards was about to impale me for killing their king, I sobered up and immediately bellowed, “Wait! Just let me heal Lord Döron first, and then you can kill me. I know you don’t want to see him dead. Despite what Aglar wanted for him, I know deep down you don’t agree with it. You care about Döron. You respect him. Am I right? Help me save him. Help me ensure he becomes your king once again!”
“And why should we believe a traitorous usurper?” an unnamed guard bit out, pushing me harder into the wall. “How are we to know it isn’t just more of your lies and deceit used for your freedom? That the moment you taste your release, running away seems sweeter instead?”
“I wouldn’t run away. I have nowhere to run to. My life is meaningless if he doesn’t reclaim the throne, because everyone I love is going to die! But even more than that, he’s my grandfather! I would never abandon him either way!” I lashed back and forth, trying to free myself so I could get to him. “Just let me go!”
Surprisingly, Cílon must’ve believed me. I could feel his tightened fist around my wrist and waist slowly loosen. Hesitantly, he said, “All right. If you truly are a Healer, then do it. But you will not live long after.”
“Thank you!” I breathed, relief coating me warmly. Even if I were to be executed after saving him, I would be content knowing that my father could still carry out our plan. He could still rescue Mycah and Rydan, as long as Döron takes back the crown of Lassaira.
“Release her,” Cílon ordered. Slowly, their grip let up, and I was released, but with extreme caution.
Once I was able to, I half-sprinted, half-stumbled over to my grandfather, holding tightly onto my wounds. My head swam with heaviness and slush. It was all I could do not to pass out. My grandmother was at his side in an instant as well, the prison guards finally releasing her. His wolf Fëa and my grandmother’s fox Fëa whimpered for him from the sidelines. I collapsed on top of him.
“Nariella, you mustn’t!” My grandmother grabbed my arms, pulling me away just as I was about to work my magic.
“Wait, what?!” I jerked my eyes to hers, completely and utterly shocked that those words came from her, of all people standing around us. “Of course I must! I have to save his life! This only happened because he was protecting me from getting stabbed instead.”
“I know why he did it, my child! But your eyes are much too skewed with darkness. Should you save him now, it could either be your last healing, or mean your life in exchange. I cannot have that. He would not want it that way! His desire is for you to live, not exchange your life for his!” She struggled with me as I tried to break free from her grasp so that I could heal her dying mate, but she refused to let go.
“I don’t care. I have to try!” What? I couldn’t even fathom her words. I didn’t care if healing him meant sacrificing my healing powers, or if it even meant sacrificing my life. There was no way I could just sit there and watch him die right before our eyes! There was no way I could stare at his last breath expelling from his lungs while I contained the power to do something about it!
“Nariella, listen to me!” she pleaded, tightening her grip around my wrists. “I have witnessed the toll being a Healer takes on a body. I do not wish that for you. Your grandfather would not wish that for you! I have seen the exact darkness of your eyes in his, and you are either close to death and shattering back to this land as dust, or living in agony for decades as your soul is consumed in death and pain. I cannot know how close you are to your limit, and it is not a risk you should take!”
“It may not be one I should take, but I am taking it.” I ripped my arms from her hold and placed my hands around Döron’s wound as fast as I could. Letting another person die in place of me was out of the question. Having watched my foster mom Elizabeth die in front of me when it should’ve been me had left horrible scars on my heart that I didn’t think would ever fully heal. I wasn’t going to let the same thing happen with my grandfather.
But he was already dead.
Wait…no, no, no. I could’ve sworn he had still been breathing…I thought for sure I had seen his chest moving up and down. I tried to heal him anyway. I pressed harder onto his wound, and while drawing in deep breaths, I did my best to bring him back to life, despite the sound of my grandmother’s objections next to my ear. I ignored her and continued on.
But nothing happened. My body was too weakened by my injuries. I stood back up, but I could hardly keep myself upright as the realization that I had been dreading set in—my grandfather sacrificed his life for mine.
How many times did that have to happen? How many people had to suffer just so that I could live? I couldn’t bear it.
A violent scream erupted from me as I dropped to my knees again. I yelled in a roaring outcry as I gathered fists full of hair on the top of my head and vented all of my pent up anger at the world.
This was not how my plan was supposed to go. Plan B was supposed to be me eliminating the one person standing in my way of saving Mycah and Rydan…or die trying. They were then supposed to accept Döron as their new king since that was who he was before. Yes, both Ender and I knew it was a long shot, and way more than likely not going to work, but that was the only other plan we had to get the army of Lassaira on our side. I had put all my hopes into this plan.
It was all I had to save Mycah and Rydan. But now instead, I was left with a dead grandfather and still no way of saving the ones I loved.
“Listen, I need your help,” I beseeched the army of elves standing around me with bated breath. “He’s dead.”
My grandmother immediately stood up and wrapped her arms around one of the trees that lined the walls, grasping onto it tightly for support, as if she’d be carried away by some invisible flood of grief had she not. Unless I was totally losing it, I swore the leaves and branches slightly bent toward her in an embrace back, comforting her.
Seeing her this way made me pause and rethink what I had intended to say, though I had the army’s attention and them waiting for me to continue. But it was unbearable thinking about how she must have felt. I couldn’t even imagine losing Mycah. For her, she had been mated with my grandfather for who knows how long. It could only be described as devastation, I was sure, but even that had to be an understatement.
I hadn’t known him for long, but I could still feel the detriment of losing him as if I had been close to him all my life. I finally mustered up the strength to drag my heavy feet over to my grandmother and wrapped my arms around her body that remained clutching the tree. Her quiet sobs racked my insides like they were louder than a bullhorn.
But I couldn’t even cry with her. I was in too much shock. Too much loss came from this realm. It was unreal. And I was terrified out of my mind that I wouldn't be able to bring him back. That I had already lost too much of my gift as it was to perform something as big as this again. After what had happened with reviving Zaylie, what if just trying to restore his life killed me before he could live again? Should I even mention the possibility, giving my grandmother false hope? I was torn in two for only a brief moment before realizing that it didn’t matter.
None of that mattered, because I had already made up my mind. I would try to revive him anyway. But I needed to get to Lissë. If she could just heal me first, then together, we could bring him back. I turned back to the waiting soldiers.
“As I said, he’s dead. But I’m more than just a Healer. Please, I beg you, help me bring him into the woods so that I can get to my Fëa. Only then can I save him.” I stood staring as no one attempted to move. “Please! You have to help me!”
“I must ask again. Why should we believe you?” They still hesitated to do as I asked. “There has not been one who could resurrect the dead in hundreds of years, and you a
re telling us now that you have this power?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying. You have to believe me! Don’t you care about him? Don’t you want to undo the mistake you made by killing him?” I asked the guard who had stabbed him instead of me. “Will you just trust me for once? I told you I’m not your enemy. I’m a good person and all I want to do is save the life of someone who didn’t deserve to die. Please, I’m begging you to just trust me!”
As I had said before, I honestly didn’t feel like running anymore either way. Seriously, where would I run to? I had no more hope for anything or anyone. It really was pointless. Without Döron commanding the army to fight against Aselaira, Mycah and Rydan were doomed.
“Trust you? Not one moment ago you sent your blade into our king’s heart. If you truly do have the ability to return those taken by death, then bring back King Aglar,” a voice demanded.
“Okay, fine. Whatever. But I can’t do anything here with these injuries. Just help me bring Döron’s body into the woods and then I’ll do whatever you want,” I lied. I had no intention of reviving Aglar, but I also had no idea if I would even live through reviving Döron. Either way, his life was my first priority, even above my own, so I was willing to do or say anything to get them to help me.
“If you are to betray us, halfbreed, then do not think I will not cut off your head where you stand in an instant. Even if it should take centuries of chasing you down, I vow that it shall be done,” Cílon promised.
“Well, no one would want to live with you as their shadow, so we have a deal,” I agreed. There was nobody else who argued the decision, so I gestured toward the door.
Quickly, they picked up Döron’s slain body and carried him with somberness down the many flights of winding stairs. The people surrounding us gasped and made cries of mourning for their fallen friend. My grandmother and I made it out of the kingdom hand-in-hand with hearts the weight of a hundred elephants.
Once we reached the trees, Lissë stood waiting for me, her head bowed in respect for the dead. I ran to her and wrapped my arms around her neck, soaking her strength in. Immediately she healed every one of my wounds, restoring me to full health again. I felt completely refreshed and new.
“This is not to mean that we do not remain foes. Do not mistake the act as allegiance. It is but as simple as not wishing our king or Lord Döron’s deaths,” Cílon strode right up from the back of the group to stand before me. “We will continue to restrain you should this all be a ruse.”
“Fine. Thank you for bringing him here. I don’t care about anything else right now. I need to revive him, so just do whatever you need to do but stay out of my way while doing it,” I said, not removing my eyes from my grandfather’s face.
My grandmother spoke up as she knelt beside him, “Nariella, what are you to do should this be your last healing? You said you were in love. Do you have any indication on how much pain will come from the inability to save the life of the one you love should he need you to? The desire in you as a Healer and a lover will be so unbearably great, and yet, you will not have the power. It will not come. And you will be left watching as he takes his final breath, a love stolen too soon from you.” I moved to speak, but she held up a finger, silencing me.
“You informed us that he was in captivity by the evil King Ohtar. Because you are so terribly like your mother, I know you are going to storm into that castle regardless of anything that may arise. My fear is when that battle ensues, the moment you need to save his life and cannot, the regret of reviving Lord Döron will choke you into despair. I do not wish that to ever transpire, my child.”
My heart crashed violently in my chest as she spoke. I couldn’t help picturing the events she described, and the pain from just imagining Mycah dying in my arms made me convulse. Goosebumps pricked my skin everywhere, and I shook my head to clear the sting from my eyes and heart. “I wouldn’t regret saving my grandfather’s life.”
I reached out to place my hands back onto his chest at the same time Lissë bent her iridescent horn above his heart. Through our connection, there was a constant flow of strength, love, and vibrancy from one another. I prepared myself for what was to come, in case what my grandmother had said was true and this would be my final act of life. I looked up at her and smiled, sending as much love as I could through my eyes to hers. If this was the last time I would see her face, then I wanted to appreciate it as best as I could while I had the chance. It was clearly visible from her expression that she was torn. She wanted her beloved mate to live again, but she feared for my life.
I focused on what I needed to do and let the world fall away. With leveled breaths, I poured myself into my magic and let it repair the damage the blade had done on Döron, reversing all ill-effects.
The moment his eyes opened fully and locked onto mine, all sound that I had heard prior was obliterated in an instant. The soft glow that bathed our bodies dissipated from view as blackness filled my vision, and the only thing I was coherent enough to understand was that my body was completely paralyzed as I collapsed to my side, hitting the hard ground with a heavy thud.
In the same instant that my eyes flew open, I lunged upward into a crouched position. Enemies surrounded me. At least, that was what it felt like. A silk blanket had fallen from my tired body and draped over my bent knees as I drank in the tension-flared atmosphere.
But rather than dozens of adversaries crowding in on me the way my gut had insisted, I found my grandmother’s worried face and guards from the army of Lassaira staring at me instead.
That was strange. Although I could see they were not enemies, it keenly felt like they were. The way Mycah had felt to me when I had first met him in Kennebunkport.
I realized then that there was a shift in me. A difference. I hadn’t even opened my mouth, yet I already knew with certainty that I was no longer the same Nariella Ashwyn Woodlinn from before. And maybe it was because Lissë’s worriment and fear over this change inside of me took over all of my thoughts and emotions.
Except one thing remained the same—the burning desire to get Mycah and Rydan away from Ohtar could not be squelched, regardless of what other changes had happened inside. But there was a change, and if my Fëa also felt there was a difference, then she would be the one to know and trust about it.
The Tavas blood was gone.
Okay, maybe not gone, but I could no longer feel its specific energy running through my veins. Before this moment, I felt its presence within my body like it was a separate being—like it had a mind of its own.
No, but now…now I wasn’t even sure if it was there in my blood at all. On top of that, I felt calloused. Hard. Numb. Like my usual cares and softness had become frozen over. I was definitely different…but I had no idea what that meant, or even why it had happened.
Lissë’s velvet nose slid over my cheek in her attempt to nudge me into a standing position. She wanted me up. She wanted me to discuss this curious turn of events with everyone else I had around me.
My grandmother eventually let out a gasped breath. “Döron, I believe she is finally well.”
“He’s alive? I did it? Where is he?” I said to the small crowd circling me. That was when I noticed I was still crouched. On a bed.
A bed. In the middle of a freaking forest.
Döron, alive and healthy, came into view as he responded, “Do you possess not the slightest instinct for survival, my dear?”
Gratefulness and astonishment that I hadn’t failed helped blossom some of that old warmth back into my heart. I remained silent as I leapt from the bed and bounded up to him, throwing my arms around his shoulders. He lightly chuckled as he embraced me in return and said, “Thank you for restoring my life. But you must be aware of how foolish it was. How could you do such a dangerous thing?”
“Me? What about you? How could you sacrifice your life for mine? Please promise me you won’t ever do that again! You can’t. I can’t handle it.”
He pulled away and looked me square
in the eyes. “That is quite a different matter, my child. You are much too young to be a martyr. Especially in place of your ancient grandfather who has lived more times over than your human-raised mind can imagine. You cannot be so careless with your life, Nariella. Its worth is greater than all else in the world.”
My shoulders dropped like deadweight when I saw the disappointment in his eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you, but the need to take away a person’s suffering is so strong inside of me, I can’t possibly resist it. Don’t you understand?”
“I understand that very need more than anyone here standing before you,” he replied, his elven accent sharp. I looked around and noticed not only my grandmother watching me carefully, but the small portion of the Lassaira army as well. I slid down to the ground close to Lissë, still listening. “I am one of the last Healers in our realm, and it is not because it was easy. The reason our kind is so rare is for the fact alone of how difficult it truly is to resist healing past our limit.”
My stomach twisted. But I also felt relief, because finally I had hope of getting answers. “I have to know everything there is about being a Healer. It feels like both a blessing and a curse. Most times I am so thankful I have this gift. It’s saved the ones I love on many occasions. But it’s also made me weak and vulnerable. To be honest, I’m a little scared of it. That’s one of the reasons I came to you. I need answers. I need to know about this whole limit thing, why it knocks me unconscious, and what the heck is happening to my eyes?”
“It matters not. As of now, I do not believe you contain the ability to heal even the slightest cut,” Döron admitted. My heart leapt to my throat. Just as Cathar had warned me about. “And yet, that is not the pressing issue at the moment. Greatest of all, I know not how you are still alive, or at least not writhing in bitter agony.”
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