Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"Hmm," Typhon rumbles. "You took the time to make cosmetic improvements. Was this for your benefit or his?"
"Shut up, Typhon. I have no idea what I'm doing, but..." I run my fingertips down Raith's left cheek, which is now only faintly rippled with scar tissue.
It's almost hard to look at him like this, but I feel a pang of guilt.
Those scars were part of him, and I had no right to change them. I can only hope he understands I didn't know what I was doing.
Pyrin's flames grow brighter, his form solidifying as the connection with Raith strengthens once more.
I sit back, suddenly lightheaded. The room tilts alarmingly around me. I've never channeled so much power for so long. And the void magic left some sort of mark inside me that makes my body feel like it weighs a thousand pounds and clouds my thoughts.
"Nessa?" Raith's voice is raspy but strong. He sits up, reaching for me as I sway.
"I'm fine," I try to say, but the words come out slurred. "Just... tired."
The last of my strength leaves me. I pitch forward, and the world goes dark.
I feel Raith catching me, his arms strong and warm around my body as consciousness begins to slip away. And somewhere, just at the edge of my awareness, a thin thread pulses between us—delicate but unbroken.
Through it, I feel something warm and foreign, as if it's coming not from my own body but from his.
It's protective. It's warm. It's caring. It's so fierce it nearly takes my breath away, because if I didn't know better, I'd say it feels like love.
30
Darkness. Then flashes of light. Voices float around me like wisps of smoke, never quite solid enough to grasp.
I hear Raith's voice, rough with concern, then... Bastian? I think I hear them arguing.
I'm vaguely aware of being carried in strong arms—Raith's arms—his heartbeat steady against my cheek as my head lolls against his chest. His scent envelops me, familiar and comforting even in my disoriented state. I hear his sharp voice silencing a few students who ask about me as he carries me somewhere.
"What happened to her?"
"Is that Thorne?"
"Why is Hollow carrying her?"
“Did Raith kill her? I thought they were fucking?”
My thoughts come like fuzzy impressions through a thick fog. I'm unable to tell if minutes or hours are passing. Time stretches and compresses in strange ways. I can sense that the void magic left something inside me, something cold and heavy that pulls me down into darkness whenever I try to surface. It's like being trapped in the depths of a frozen lake, looking up at a world I can't quite reach.
"Stay with me, angry human." Typhon's voice is distant, as if he's calling to me from across a vast ocean. "Your body is purging the void corruption, but it will take time. The siphon's touch has lingering effects, even secondhand as you received it."
I try to respond, but can't form the words. My tongue feels swollen, my throat raw. Instead, I sink deeper into the darkness that keeps pulling at me, dragging me under.
"No. Fight it." Typhon's voice grows more urgent. "The void magic seeks to sever our tether. It would leave you vulnerable, and I refuse to lose another human. Not after all the trouble you've been."
I want to tell him I'm trying, but the cold is seeping into my bones, making it impossible to resist the pull of unconsciousness. Just before I slip away completely, I feel a surge of warmth from somewhere outside myself—a flicker of fire magic, hot and bright, pushing back against the encroaching void.
Raith. It has to be him.
The last thing I remember is Typhon's voice, closer now: "Interesting. The fire touched is lending you strength through the tether, thin as it may be."
Then nothing.
I don't know how long it has been before I finally wake with my thoughts more clear, but my body is still diminished.
There's soft linen beneath my fingertips. Warmth enveloping me. I'm in a bed, but not my own.
I force my eyes open, blinking against even the dim light of a single candle burning beside the bed. Everything hurts, my muscles aching as if I've been training for days without rest. My mouth is dry, my lips cracked and bleeding. Even the simple act of breathing sends dull waves of pain through my chest.
"Water," I croak, the word barely audible even to my own ears.
A figure moves at the edge of my vision, and then Raith is there, his face illuminated by the soft glow of the candle as he holds a cup to my lips. I drink greedily, letting the cool liquid soothe my parched throat. It tastes impossibly sweet.
When I've had enough, he takes the cup away, his movements careful and precise. Now that my vision is clearing, I can see the dark circles under his eyes, the tension in his jaw. He hasn't been sleeping.