Chapter 27: The Sister

  The capital slept.

  The communication chamber sat deep beneath Valorheim's streets. Stone walls surrounded the small room and kept it cold. Three rows of crystals on iron stands filled most of the space, a few pulsing with dim light. The air smelled of dust and metal.

  Two people worked the night shift.

  Rosenna sat at her table near the front row of crystals. Her fingers drummed against the wood.

  *Three hours.*

  *Three hours staring at dark glass and dust.*

  She glanced over her shoulder. Knight-Warden Haldren sat at the larger table behind her, pen scratching against a ledger. Grey at his temples. Deep lines on his face in the dim light.

  "Dead again." She let her head fall back. "Every night the same."

  "You requested this post." His pen kept scratching.

  "I requested the capital, not a basement."

  "You got both."

  *One in ten thousand, the mages told my mother. Your daughter can touch the Wind Gate. She'll carry royal messages across the kingdom. She'll stand in palaces.*

  She turned back to the crystals.

  *Palaces. Right. Stone walls underground and an old man who answers in three words or less.*

  The third row along the far wall caught her eye. Dust thick on the iron stands.

  *When did I last wipe those down?*

  *Why bother?*

  Her gaze drifted across the row. Third from the left. Fifth. The one at the end with the cracked base.

  The crystal in the center flickered.

  Rosenna stopped breathing.

  Green light pulsed from the glass. Once. Twice.

  She stood. Her chair scraped against stone.

  "Sir."

  Haldren's pen stopped. She heard him rise behind her.

  The crystal pulsed again and the green glow spread outward, catching the dust floating in the air around it.

  *That's the third row. The old network. The one they told us about in training.*

  *The one that hasn't activated in ages.*

  "What is it?" Haldren's voice came from behind her.

  She walked to the third row and pressed her palm against the base of the crystal.

  *Stop shaking. You trained for this.*

  She pressed her palm harder against the base. "The shrine network." She let her mana reach through the connection."One of the village shrines just activated its defenses."

  *Willowden. Small village near Thornwood Forest.*

  *Why would a healing shrine need defenses?*

  The crystal blazed under her palm. A crack echoed through the connection. The glass split as the light collapsed into darkness.

  *The stone in Willowden. It shattered.*

  She turned to face Haldren. He stood watching her from across the room, the ledger forgotten on his table.

  "The shrine stone shattered." She took a breath. "I felt it break through the link."

  His face stayed still. His shoulders shifted under his uniform, a small movement she almost missed. She had seen that before. The small adjustment he made when a report turned serious.

  "Which units are nearby?"

  She moved to the map on the wall. Her finger traced the roads, searching for the markers she updated every morning.

  *Think. The patrol schedules. The rotation charts.*

  *There.*

  "Sigrid's unit." She tapped the spot. "They're in the area. Half a day's ride from the village, maybe less."

  "Reach them." Haldren's voice left no room for hesitation.

  She stared at the flickering light of the crystal.

  *Sigrid's unit. What was the pattern?*

  Dozens of traces sat in her memory, each one burned there during her first months at this post.

  *Sigrid's team carved their own.*

  *Three lines. They cross in the center.*

  *The angles sharp, like wings pulled back.*

  She felt Haldren's silence behind her.

  *Was it three lines or four?*

  *Three. The instructor made us trace it twice because it looked nothing like the others.*

  The shape settled in her mind.

  *There.*

  She took a steadying breath. She reached through the Wind Gate.

  *Open the channel. Find the receiver. Simple.*

  She let her mana flow through the Wind Gate, reaching outward across the distance.

  The connection stretched. She felt it searching for the other end.

  Her mana pushed outward. Pressure slammed back into her skull and she gasped, her hand shooting to the table to steady herself.

  *Agh—*

  She gritted her teeth and pushed again. The force hit harder and her breath hissed through her teeth.

  *Heavy mana everywhere. I can't reach the receiver.*

  She pulled back and opened her eyes.

  "I can't get through."

  "There's interference blocking the area. Heavy mana. I've never felt a disturbance like this."

  Haldren stood beside her. She saw his face and the question died in her throat.

  "Who else is in the region?" Haldren's voice came out flat.

  She returned to the map. Her finger traced the roads until she found another marker.

  "Creston." She tapped the marker. "They have knights stationed there."

  "Contact them." Haldren was already moving back to his table.

  Creston's pattern was standard. Simple circle with a line through the center. She found it in seconds and reached through the Wind Gate.

  The connection formed. She heard a voice on the other end.

  "Sir." She turned to Haldren at his table. "Creston. They're waiting."

  "Willowden. Tell them to move."

  She focused her will and pushed his words through the link. A moment passed. The confirmation pulsed back through her fingers.

  She let the connection go and the mana faded from her hands. She stood and walked to Haldren's table.

  "They're going."

  She returned to her seat and watched the crystals, waiting for any of them to flicker again.

  *What happened out there?*

  She didn't ask. Haldren wouldn't have an answer.

  The crystals stayed dark. Neither of them spoke.

  The imperial castle rose above the capital.

  Stone towers climbed into the darkness. Most windows were dark. A few still glowed with candlelight. The outer walls stretched wide, encircling courtyards and gardens that had grown silent hours ago. Guards walked their posts along the battlements, footsteps lost beneath the wind.

  In the eastern wing, a single corridor remained lit.

  Oil lamps lined the walls at measured intervals. Flames held steady behind glass casings, casting long shadows across the stone floor. Tapestries hung between doorways, old threads depicting battles and treaties from centuries past.

  At the corridor's end, a door stood closed.

  Beyond it, a small audience chamber. Stone walls bare except for a single map mounted behind the desk. A window overlooking the inner courtyard, curtains drawn against the night. Two chairs for visitors. A cabinet holding scrolls and ledgers.

  The king sat behind his desk.

  Grey touched his temples. Lines marked the corners of his eyes, deeper than they had been a decade ago. His coat hung open, the formal buttons undone at this hour. A stack of reports sat at his left hand. A half-empty cup of tea at his right, long gone cold.

  His pen moved across the page.

  *Grain shipments to the northern provinces. Three wagons delayed by flooding. The roads near Ashwick need repair before winter.*

  He signed the order and set it aside.

  *Next.*

  *Patrol schedules for the western border. Two units requesting additional supplies. Arrows. Medical kits. Replacement horses for the ones lost to illness.*

  He read the numbers twice. Made a small correction. Signed.

  *Next.*

  The pile never shrank. Every morning he cleared his desk. Every evening it filled again. Reports from generals. Requests from nobles. Trade agreements. Tax disputes. The kingdom breathed through paperwork, and he processed each breath one page at a time.

  *More inspections. More nobles demanding attention.*

  He reached for his tea. Remembered it was cold. Set it down.

  *How many hours until dawn?*

  A knock at the door.

  The king lifted his head.

  "Enter."

  The door opened. A knight stepped through, armor catching the lamplight. The royal crest marked his chest plate. He stopped two paces inside and bowed.

  "Your Majesty. The hero Anna is here."

  The king set his pen down.

  "Send her in."

  The knight stepped aside and held the door.

  Anna walked in.

  Young. Black hair pulled back from her face, loose strands falling near her jaw. Her armor was polished steel, bright and clean. Unmarked. A sword hung at her hip, the scabbard plain leather.

  She crossed to the center of the room and bowed. Not deep. The bow of someone who had stood here before.

  "Your Majesty."

  "Anna." The king clasped his hands on the desk. "Your unit is ready?"

  "We finished this morning." She straightened, a small smile on her face. "Supplies packed. Weapons checked. Everyone is waiting for the order to move."

  The king leaned back in his chair.

  "The elves want that river back. They'll keep pushing until they get it or bleed out trying."

  "I know." The smile stayed. "You've told me."

  "I've told you because the Knights stationed there have been fighting for months. Tired men make mistakes."

  "Then I'll make sure they stay sharp."

  She met his eyes.

  "I became a hero to protect people, Your Majesty. Those farmers need the water. I won't let the elves take it."

  The king held her gaze for a moment. Her shoulders were straight, her voice steady, and nothing in her stance suggested hesitation.

  *A knight worth keeping.*

  "The people are counting on you." He leaned forward. "Succeed, and I'll see you titled when you return."

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  She straightened. The smile brightened.

  "I won't disappoint you, Your Majesty. I'll—"

  A knock at the door. Three times, quick.

  His gaze shifted to the entrance.

  "Enter."

  The door opened. A messenger stepped through, breathing hard. Lighter armor than the knight before. His eyes moved to Anna, then back to the king.

  "Your Majesty." He bowed. "Forgive the interruption. A message from the communication chamber."

  The king's hand rose. A small gesture toward the door.

  Anna's eyes moved to the king. He gave a small nod. She bowed and walked past the messenger. The door closed behind her.

  The room went quiet.

  The king looked at the messenger. The man's chest rose and fell too fast.

  "Speak."

  "The old shrine network, Your Majesty." The messenger swallowed. "One of the village protection stones activated."

  The king's fingers stopped on the desk.

  "Which village?"

  "Willowden, Your Majesty."

  The messenger's hands hung at his sides, but his fingers kept moving, pressing against his palms.

  The king stood. His chair scraped against the stone floor.

  *The shrine network.*

  *No one's activated them in... how long?*

  *Who even knows how to—those systems are ancient.*

  "When?"

  "Minutes, Your Majesty. The communication chamber sent me as soon as the signal came through." The messenger hesitated. "There's more."

  "Say it."

  "The stone shattered. They felt it break through the link. And there's interference across the area. Heavy mana. They can't reach any receivers nearby."

  *What could trigger those defenses?*

  The king's jaw tightened.

  He turned back to the messenger.

  "Send the Imperial Knights to Willowden. Tonight. Healers with them."

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "Seal the roads around the village. No one enters or leaves until we know what happened."

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "I want reports every hour."

  The messenger bowed and left.

  The king stood alone. The cold tea. The unfinished reports. The quiet room.

  *The Father*

  *Should I inform him*

  He reached for a fresh page.

  The forest thinned where Spirithold Valley met the outer hills.

  Enid sat on a fallen log. Three of her people rested nearby. A young man fed branches to a small fire. Two women sorted herbs they had gathered that day. Smoke rose through the branches and faded into the night.

  An owl called from deeper in the woods. Moths circled the flames. Fireflies blinked between the tree trunks, slow and patient.

  Enid watched the fire. The warmth reached her face first, then spread down through her neck and shoulders until the tension there began to fade.

  The owl stopped calling.

  She lifted her head. The moths were gone from the fire. The fireflies had stopped blinking. She reached out with her senses, searching for the small spirits that wandered between the trees at night.

  They had fled. All of them, running toward the valley.

  The young man looked up. "Elder?"

  She watched the blackness spread, swallowing the stars above the fire first. It reached down to take the tops of the pines, darkening the oak beside the path before finally sliding over the elm where the owl had perched.

  The darkness moved closer until she lost sight of the bushes at the clearing's edge, the shadows pressing inward to erase the tall grass beyond the young man before finally closing over the log where the two women sat.

  The fire shrank, drawing its light inward until the darkness covered the ground around them. Enid felt the warmth thin against her skin as the glow retreated toward the coals.

  The young man's body dropped. His face struck the dirt and his hands dug into the soil. His mouth hung open, fighting for air that wouldn't come.

  The two women fell from their log. One clutched at her throat. The other pulled her knees to her chest, her breath coming in shallow bursts.

  Enid stayed seated.

  Pressure settled over her, pressing down on her shoulders and spreading across her chest until she felt it behind her eyes.

  *Aurelion.*

  She heard his magic gathering behind her. A low hum in the air. Heat building at her back.

  "Shouldn't you be tending your heroes, Aurelion?" She kept her gaze on the struggling fire. "Leave old women to their rest."

  "Another one woke."

  His voice surrounded her. It scraped at the edges, rougher than she remembered.

  Her fingers tightened on her knees.

  "Too soon."

  The pressure on her shoulders shifted.

  "Always is."

  She turned her head. The humming light behind her thickened, carving space out of the dark until the shape of a man formed. His edges bled into the surrounding black. A shoulder surfaced, then the sharp angle of a jaw, both softening and dissolving back into the glow. Static crawled across where his eyes should be. The whole figure trembled, fighting to hold together.

  "So what am I supposed to do about it?" Enid's voice was tight, strained by the weight pressing against her chest.

  The projection flickered. His voice found her through the dark, and she felt it press against her skin before it reached her ears.

  "Have your people ready. I will send word when my reports come."

  His outline scattered into the dark, and the light that had held him together thinned until only the night remained.

  The pressure eased. Enid watched the darkness pull back from the clearing's edge, retreating the way it had come. The world returned slowly, shapes emerging from the black until the trees stood around her again and the stars filled the gaps between their branches.

  She turned back to the fire. The flames crackled. Her people lay on the ground, still pulling air into their lungs. The forest held its silence around them.

  *Another one.*

  *How many has it been?*

  Ash remained crouched over Mira's unconscious form. Debris still settled around them. Stone dust drifted through the air thick with mana. Heavy. Hard to breathe.

  Pressure slammed into him from the back of the shrine.

  The Seed of Life moved without permission. Mana flooded through him, strengthening muscle and bone before he could think. The Crimson Eyes blazed brighter than they had ever burned.

  The creature outside had stopped moving.

  He could see it through the gaps in ruined walls. The merged abomination of corrupted flesh had gone still. The thick carpet of black petals had ceased its rhythmic pulsing. Tentacles hung motionless above the ruins.

  The entire mass frozen in place.

  He turned slowly. Every fiber of his being screamed warnings he couldn't process. Danger. Power. A presence so vast his mind refused to hold it.

  Someone sat in the back of the shrine.

  Old. White hair cropped close to a skull that had weathered more years than Ash could estimate. Skin like leather left too long in the sun, creased and folded in patterns that mapped decades of expression. A frame that should have been diminished by age but somehow wasn't. Shoulders still broad beneath armor that caught the dim moonlight.

  His breathing held the unmistakable rhythm of someone deep in rest. Like the roof hadn't just collapsed around him.

  The old man wore armor of golden metal, surface etched with designs that seemed to move when he looked away from them.

  A beard the color of winter snow spilled down the old man's chest. Long enough to tuck beneath a belt. His face was hard and weathered. Scars mapped decades of violence across it.

  *The guild hall.*

  The guild hall flashed through his mind. A figure in a hood, refusing the heroes' quest with words that closed doors. A golden spear radiating mana so pure it had made Ash's skin prickle from across the room.

  The same spear leaned against the wall beside him. Worn wood, dark metal blade. Red markings spiraled up the shaft in patterns that shifted whenever he looked away.

  Ash's gaze moved to the spear. His vision collapsed. The Crimson Eyes simply ceased to exist. One moment the world spread before him in layers of mana and hidden truth. The next, the world flattened into mundane sight.

  The Crimson Eyes flared back to life. Colors flooded back, layers of mana flowing through everything around him, depths ordinary sight could never perceive. Relief washed through him, followed immediately by confusion.

  His gaze hadn't moved from the spear.

  The Crimson Eyes shut down again. The ability died the instant his attention fixed on the weapon. His sight couldn't hold against the mana radiating from it. Too dense. Too concentrated. Existing beyond the boundaries his perception had been designed to process.

  Each attempt grew shorter. Each recovery weakened his legs and burned behind his eyes. The strain left him dizzy, nauseous, aware that he was pushing against power that refused to be examined. His ability kept collapsing and returning. A cycle that threatened to break him if he didn't stop.

  Ash looked at the old man instead.

  The old man sat motionless. If the collapsing roof or the screaming villagers had disturbed him, nothing in his posture showed it.

  His eyes opened.

  His gaze was calm and steady, the attention of someone pulled from rest who remained calm. A presence ancient beyond his years.

  Ash felt the weight of that attention. Those eyes were old. Far older than the face around them.

  "Blood carries echoes for those who remember how to hear." The old man's voice was rough. "A sapling of the deep-rooted tree. Curious soil to find such growth."

  Ash's chest constricted.

  His hand moved to his chest, fingers finding the ring hidden beneath his shirt.

  The old man shifted against the stone. "You've grown since last we crossed paths, sapling. The eyes suit you."

  "How—"

  The old man looked past Ash. Toward the opening where the roof had been. Toward the thing waiting beyond the ruined walls.

  His expression shifted.

  "Gudea." His eyes returned to Ash. "My name. Use it while I handle this."

  He stood. "Later. That conversation requires quieter ground."

  The motion contradicted everything his body suggested. Age had carved itself into his frame. Weathered joints. Bent spine. Standing should have been a negotiation with pain. But he rose without effort, smooth and fast, like his body remembered being young.

  His hand closed around the spear. The mana that erupted was too dense. Ash's Crimson Eyes gave out under it. When they returned, the pressure in the air had tripled.

  The pressure filled Ash's lungs with every breath.

  Gudea walked toward the gap in the shrine's walls. Mana rippled from each footstep.

  He stopped at the threshold of ruin.

  The creature waited beyond.

  The merged abomination had recovered. Tentacles swayed, searching. The central mass pulsed with rhythms that had synchronized into a single massive heartbeat. A mountain of combined flesh. Villagers absorbed into something that defied nature.

  Black petals spread across the merged flesh, opening and closing in unison.

  Gudea's arm moved. A small shift of his wrist.

  The air tore itself apart.

  Force exploded from the weapon's tip.

  A wave of compressed pressure erupted outward from where Gudea stood. The air screamed as it split open. Everything in the wave's path ceased to exist.

  The shrine's front wall vanished. The stone became dust in an instant. The roof above it collapsed, half the structure folding inward while the walls on either side held. Debris rained down across the floor. Dust filled Ash's lungs. The ground shook beneath his knees.

  The wave kept moving.

  It carved through the village in a straight line. Buildings split apart where the force passed. Structures folded like paper crushed by an invisible hand. A path of destruction opened between Gudea and his target.

  The wave struck the creature.

  The merged abomination flew backward, crashing through the structures behind it, disappearing into the darkness beyond the village's edge.

  Ash's ears rang.

  Half the shrine stood. The front wall had vanished in the direction of Gudea's strike, leaving a clean edge where stone ceased to exist.

  The old man hadn't moved from his position.

  His breathing remained even. His face held the expression of someone dealing with a chore that had interrupted his rest.

  The creature pulled itself from the rubble in the distance. The mass of flesh rose, blotting out the stars. Where the strike had torn through it, the wounds closed. New buds erupted from the scars and burst open in seconds. Tentacles reformed around the central mass.

  Gudea watched it recover.

  "Tedious." The old man's voice was flat. His expression held the irritation of someone woken from sleep for something that should have handled itself. He shifted his grip on the spear.

  The creature screamed. Rage and agony twisted into an inhuman sound that tore through the night.

  Beneath the debris, Mira stirred.

  She coughed and pushed herself up. Her gaze swept across the ruined shrine before finding him.

  "Ash..." Her voice came out weak.

  Then she saw it.

  The creature in the distance. The mountain of flesh and tentacles rising against the night sky.

  Her breath stopped.

  She grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his sleeve. "Ash. Ash, that's... that's..."

  Ash turned his head.

  Gudea stood at the shrine's edge. The old man's eyes were already on him.

  Gudea's gaze moved to Mira. To her shaking hands. The dust covering her face.

  Back to Ash.

  His grip shifted on the spear. His chin dipped once. A small motion. Then he turned toward the creature.

  He raised the spear toward the sky.

  The clouds spiraled inward and darkened. Lightning flickered in their depths, then tore downward in a single bolt. It struck the creature and wrapped around the abomination's body, coiling tight. Another bolt followed and wound itself through the first. Then a third. A fourth. Storm light layered into chains that bound the mass of flesh and tentacles.

  The creature thrashed against the binding. Its body dragged forward an inch. Two inches. Lightning bit into flesh and the creature fought harder, tentacles whipping, the whole mass shuddering with effort.

  Storm mana bled from the chains while black corruption poured from the creature's wounds. The two forces collided above the creature and tore at each other. Sparks scattered across the night where light met darkness.

  Gudea slammed the spear into the ground.

  The shaft bit into broken stone and held. His hands locked around it, knuckles white against the wood. From the center of the weapon, a wave of force erupted outward. It curved around the shrine platform and arced behind them, forming a barrier between them and the battlefield.

  Tentacles ripped free from the creature's sides and launched toward the shrine.

  The first one struck the barrier.

  The ground jumped beneath Ash's knees. Gudea's boots slid back against the stone, carving lines in the dust before he caught himself. His shoulders tensed. His grip tightened on the shaft.

  A second tentacle hit. A third.

  Each impact shook the floor. Each impact pushed Gudea back another inch. The old man's jaw clenched. Sweat ran down his temple.

  He held.

  Mira pressed her other hand against her mouth. Her words came out muffled behind her fingers. "Tell me that's not him. Please. Please tell me that's not my brother."

  Gudea's voice came through gritted teeth. "The boy is in there. What remains of him."

  A tentacle hammered the barrier. The shrine floor shuddered.

  Mira's hands shot to her ears. "No. No, no, no—"

  Tears spilled down her cheeks. She shook her head, backing away from both of them.

  Ash reached for her. "Mira—"

  "Don't!" She stumbled back. "Don't say it. Please don't say it."

  She collapsed to her knees. Hands over her face, body folding inward.

  "How?" Her voice broke. "How did this happen to him?"

  In the distance, storm mana and corruption tore at each other above the creature. The abomination dragged itself forward another inch, chains biting into its flesh. Gudea's arms trembled with the effort of holding it.

  Ash knelt beside her. His hand found her shoulder. "The potion you brought from Valorheim. The medicine you gave him."

  She lifted her head to look at him. Face wet. Eyes red. Her voice climbed higher. "The potion did this? The medicine I gave him?"

  Ash opened his mouth to answer.

  "Or was it my fault before that? Maybe I waited too long. Maybe if I had left for Valorheim sooner—"

  Two tentacles hit the barrier at once. Gudea slid back a full step. A grunt escaped his throat.

  Her words tumbled out in a rush, crashing into each other. She clawed at her own arms, nails leaving red marks on her skin.

  Ash reached for her hands. "Mira—"

  She pulled away. Her gaze jumped from wall to rubble to sky, never settling. "The roads were blocked. Heroes everywhere. I couldn't get through. Eight days. It took me eight days to get home. He was alone for eight days."

  Ash tried again. "That's not what—"

  She laughed. A horrible sound, brittle and sharp. "Or maybe it was my cooking. I wasn't feeding him right. He kept getting thinner. I didn't know what to make him. I didn't know what would help."

  The barrier flickered. Gudea's knees bent under the pressure of another strike. He straightened with effort, breath hissing through his teeth.

  Her voice shattered into pieces. "And when he finally needed me. When it was my turn to save him. I fed him poison."

  She slammed her fists against the ground. "I'm his little sister! He spent his whole life protecting me! And the one time he needed protection, I killed him!"

  Her eyes dropped to the ground. "His little sister. His little sister fed him poison. What kind of—what kind of healer poisons her own brother?"

  Gudea's boots scraped against stone. Another inch lost. The chains above groaned as the creature strained against them.

  She looked at Ash with eyes that held despair. "I was selfish. I bought that potion because I couldn't handle my own fear. And now my brother is a monster and an entire village is dead because of me."

  Ash waited. Let her words settle.

  Then he spoke. "We can still save them."

  She blinked. "What do you mean?"

  Ash kept his voice calm. Certain. "The villagers. Your brother. We can still save them."

  A tentacle thicker than the others crashed into the barrier. Cracks spread through the wall of force before sealing shut. Gudea's whole body shook with the impact.

  Her hands gripped the fabric of her robes. "How? How do you save people from what I did?"

  Ash spoke with absolute certainty. "The parasite feeds on corruption. On the connections you made. If I pull that corruption out, from the villagers, from you, from your brother, the parasite starves."

  Her voice was barely audible. "You can really do that?"

  Ash nodded. "Yes."

  She leaned toward him. "And the villagers? The people I infected? What happens to them?"

  Ash kept his voice steady. "They'll live. The connections will break. The corruption will leave their bodies."

  Her voice trembled on her brother's name. "And Elian? Can you save him?"

  Ash paused. His eyes held hers. "If the parasite starves, your brother can finally rest."

  Mira stared at him. "Rest? What do you mean rest?"

  Ash looked down.

  Neither of them spoke.

  Mira's face changed. Her mouth opened. Closed. Her hands began to shake.

  Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Her voice broke. "He deserved so much more than me."

  "Mira. Get up." Ash extended his hand. "Your brother is waiting."

  She looked at his hand. Then at the creature in the distance, still fighting the chains of lightning wrapped around its body. Her brother buried somewhere inside that mass of flesh and tentacles.

  She took his hand.

  Ash pulled her to her feet. She stood unsteady. Legs shaking. Her eyes were red and swollen.

  She turned to him. "What do you need me to do?"

  Ash met her eyes. "When I pull the corruption out, it's going to fight back. Try to take hold inside my body. I need you to pour your healing into me while I work. Keep me standing."

  Mira's face went pale. "You're going to pull all that corruption into yourself?"

  Ash nodded.

  Her voice started shaking. "But... but your body... you're going to..."

  She couldn't finish. Her hands grabbed his arm, her grip tight, desperate.

  Tears welled in her eyes. "Please. I just watched my brother become that thing. I can't... I can't see it happen again. Not to you."

  Ash turned to face her fully. His hands found her shoulders, steady and warm.

  "Mira. Look at me."

  She looked up. Eyes wet. Terrified.

  His voice softened. "You're going to be right there with me. Your healing. Your hands. That's what's going to keep me standing."

  Her lip trembled.

  His grip on her shoulders tightened slightly. "I'm not facing this alone. You're here. That's why this is going to work."

  Mira held his gaze for a long moment, her breath steadying with each second that passed.

  "Elian." She looked down, and the name came out soft. "I'm here."

  She gave a small, shaky nod.

  Her breath hitched. A small sob escaped her throat.

  She looked at the creature one more time. At her brother.

  "I'm ready."

  The chains shattered.

  Lightning scattered across the night sky as the creature tore free from its binding. The barrier flickered and died. Gudea staggered forward, catching himself on the spear before his knees hit the ground. He sucked in a ragged breath and spat to the side.

  The creature rose to its full height, blotting out the stars.

  Ash turned toward the old man.

  "I need to pull the corruption out. Can you keep that thing off us?"

  Gudea straightened. Rolled his shoulders. His breathing was rough but his grip on the spear stayed firm.

  "Ten minutes. Maybe twelve if you're lucky."

  Ash nodded. "That's enough."

  Gudea's grip shifted on his spear. "Make it count, sapling."

  The spear blazed with storm light. A wave of pressure swept across the shrine.

  Mira grabbed Ash's arm as her legs threatened to give out.

  On the shrine platform, Ash knelt among the debris.

  The Seed of Life pulsed in his chest.

  Mira knelt behind him. Her hands pressed against his back, healing mana flowing into him.

  "I'm with you." Her voice shook but held.

  Ash closed his eyes and reached outward with his senses. The corruption answered. He felt it pulsing through the village. Through the infected. Through the creature.

  The corruption began flowing toward him.