“You need to come with me.” Her voice is rough, and her silver eyes glisten. “Right now.”
I look towards Lachlan, who’s already staring at me.Go.He nods at me, his tattoos unfurl into raven black wings.
“I’ll be right behind ye.” His words give me a small piece of comfort as anxiety wraps around me.
I step towards Luna. And more gently than I thought her capable of, she envelops me in her arms.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.
The world is ripped from me. Colors stretch and splice. Awave of dizziness hits me, my stomach sinks, and my head jolts to the side.
It lasts a heartbeat.
Then I’m standing in the middle of my throne room.
My body is thrown to the side before I can steady my feet, and I gasp, struggling to breathe normally. Luna still holds me tightly in her arms. She eases away, unblocking my line of sight to Torin.
Torin holding Gran.
Tears fall in a stream down his weathered and weary face. His usual flat cap tilted up at an unusual angle. His hands are underneath her legs and around her back, cradling her to him.
She doesn’t move, there’s no movement of her chest at all.
I take one small step toward them before I sprint. Running like my life depends on it across the marble floor.
“Gran!” I scream.
Torin sinks to his knees, clutching her body to his chest.
Tears pour down my cheeks before I even reach them.
He lifts his head to the sky, a silent plea coming from his lips and his tears roll sideways down his cheeks. His flat cap slips off his head and clatters to the floor.
“She’s still hanging on.” His voice cracks. “But barely.”
I skid to a stop, falling to my knees before them. Pain rocks through my bones, but I ignore it.
“How?” I choke out the words.
Torin shakes his head. “It’s almost time. She had me take her to the cairn early this morning. Then she fell asleep, and has nae woken up.” He swallows and his throat bobs.
I reach out with timid slowness to touch her hand. There is still warmth there, still life clinging to her.
“The magic awoken, and it brought us home,” he whispers.
I squeeze my eyes shut, praying to Odin that the magic here is strong enough now to heal her.
“Please, please,” I whisper the plea to any gods that could be listening.
Torin shifts forward towards me. I pray for the faintest sign of life, a flicker of a pulse or a gasp of breath. Anything at all to confirm my prayers are answered, and that she’s healing.
There’s magic here.
Bring her back.
A slight flicker of blood pulses through her veins.
She’s not gone.
