The seven champions fanned out in a crescent before her, the wall of root and thorn at her back.
Kit took the dagger and sliced the tip of her finger. She let a few drops fall into Elyria’s palm.
Nox went next, their maroon blood tinting the mixture a darker shade. Then Zephyr and Thraigg, her droplets of green blood swallowed up by a rivulet of his, red and bright.
Cyren and Gael added a few drops each.
Finally, it was Cedric’s turn. He eyed Elyria’s bleeding palm dubiously.
“I only need a drop or two,” she said. “It won’t take much.”
“You don’t—” His throat bobbed, his gaze darting between the other champions with nervous energy. “You don’t actually need me, right? We wield magic through our tokens, it’s not in our blood. There’s nothing to merge.”
“There is magic in everything,” Nox said.
“And what kind ofunitywould this be without you, knightling?” Kit added with a grin. She looked at Leona, who sniffed and took a few steps back. The grin fell. “Last chance,” Kit offered.
“No fucking way,” Leona spat.
Cedric sighed as he sliced the tip of his finger, blood trailing down his knuckle until it dropped into Elyria’s open palm.
As if Elyria’s own blood understood that this was the final contribution, it started to swirl in her palm, shimmery and glistening. Then, so quickly she would have missed it if she blinked, it was gone—sucked back into her, merging with her bloodstream, not even the puncture wound on her hand left behind.
Elyria beheld her hand, the magic thrumming in her veins. The swell of untapped power that swept through her was unlike anything she’d felt before. It sang in her blood, lighting her nerves.
Something tugged at Elyria, right in the center of her chest. She raised her eyes to look at the champions surrounding her. They stared at her in awe, a luminous web weaving around them, binding them together. To her.
And amidst those shimmering threads of light, one glowed golden.
“Is it working?” Cedric asked, something like astonishment in his voice.
“Yes,” she breathed, stunned by the power washing over them.
“There’s just one more step, right?” Kit said, prompting the words that were stuck in the back of Elyria’s throat.
“Right. Yes. You all need to wield your magic—together.” Elyria took a deep breath and raised her other hand. “Call it. Cast it. Now.”
They didn’t hesitate.
Kit raised a hand, water swirling, darting between her knuckles.
Periwinkle hair whipped around Elyria’s face as Cyren’s wind freed several strands from her braid.
Shadows bloomed at Nox’s feet.
Healing light poured from Zephyr’s fingers.
Heat warmed Elyria’s skin as Gael kindled a flame in her hand.
Thraigg grunted as he plucked a rock from the ground and gripped it tightly in his gloved hand. Elyria found herself momentarily captivated as the rock crumbled into dust, leaving a brilliant gemstone in the center of the dwarf’s palm.
And then Cedric wrapped his hand around his mana token, and Elyria lit up.
Like a birthing star, fiery and bright, she felt it all. Each thread of their magic, flame and wild and water and wind mixing in her veins, in her breath, in her very being. Her inner shadow woke and joined the tapestry of magic swimming within her. She had never felt so powerful, never felt so alive.
So complete.
Elyria spun to face the wall and this time she didn’t even need to reach out and pull on those threads of wild magic within. With little more than the flex of her hand, the ice melted from the window that had taken so much effort to create. The frozen barrier dissolved, revealing the tangled vines beneath. Vines that no longer resisted, nolonger fought her.
