Cirian gritted his teeth, his heels digging into the stone beneath as he tried to pry the Cardinal loose. With a bellow of frustration, he tore his hand free, loosing a bolt of cerulean lightning into the curtain of inky night. The flash was devoured by the darkness, and Sancha moved forward another step, the front of her body swallowed.
I seized Cirian’s shoulders, pulling back with all my might, but he held fast to the Cardinal.
“Let her go!” I shouted, shifting my grip and wrapping both arms around Cirian’s waist. I pulled once more, feeling his frame lift off the ground, but still he clung to her.
“I can still save her!” he cried, every muscle in his body flexing as he dug his heels into the ground. But it was no use. Sancha’s shoulders passed through the curtain, and it was only a matter of seconds before Cirian’s hands would plunge into it as well.
Tears stung my eyes as I pleaded with him. “We can still help her, but only if you let go. Please, Cirian. I can’t lose you too.”
Movement in my periphery drew both of our attention as one of the clergy members walked headfirst into the curtain, disappearing into the folds of darkness without a single word. Then another on the opposite side, and shoulders brushed against me as I realized that the room was filling up with clergy, moving in tandem towards the embrace of the Umbral.
“Source save us,” breathed Cirian, finally releasing his hold on Sancha. The curtain quickly enveloped her, another member of the clergy taking her place as the crowd around us grew thicker, pushing us towards the inevitable.
Cirian held his arms wide, trying to keep as many from advancing as he could, but their strength quickly overwhelmed him, and he had to duck under the wave of bodies to keep from being swept into the darkness. More and more bodies piled through the entrance to the office, pressing toward the Umbral with a determination that could not be shaken. Cirian grabbed a hold of me in the torrent of limbs, pulling me tight against him as the chaotic churn of the crowd pulled us forward.
“Is there another way out?”
Desperation saturated my voice.
Cirian shook his head, a monk colliding with his shoulder and nearly tearing him from my grip. “We’re nearly at the heart of the Cradle. There’s only the passage that brought us here.”
“Then hold tight to me,” I told him. “We merely have to wait for a break in the waves, then we can make our escape?—”
My words were wrung from my mind, a small, still voice replacing them.
“Come to me, Seeker. Come and rest.”
“Bast?”
Cirian’s face eclipsed my vision, his fathomless eyes wresting me from the pull of the Umber as it filled my head.
“Ignore it, Bast. I’ve got you.”
I nodded, but the voice swelled once more, pressing out everything that wasn’t the soothing tone.
“He does not understand, Seeker. He is careless.”
Cirian’s hand pressed into the flesh of my chest, the connection between us flickering once more, but the light wasn’t as strong, the thread no thicker than a strand of hair.
“You can’t listen to it,” he told me, breath hot against my ear. “Focus on me, Bast. Focus on my words?—”
“Lay down your burdens, Seeker. You need not carry them any longer.”
Relief flooded my veins at the mere mention of the Umbral’s offer. In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to obey. To lean into the extended embrace and allow it to strip away the weight of expectation that hung over my head like an executioner’s axe.
My body moved before my mind could translate the desire. Cirian tightened his grip on me, more hot words pouring into my ear as he did.
“Bastien, stop. This isn’t what you want. I don’t know what it’s telling you, but you have to listen to me—fight it.”
“Come to me, Seeker. Know what it is like to be truly free of strife.”
“Fight it, Bast!”
Why would I fight the embrace of something that knew me so well? Was this what it was like for Cirian to commune with the Source? Suddenly, his faith no longer appeared so unbelievable. I longed to cast my burdens upon the divine, if only to end this hopeless dread that filled my veins. Let someone else carry the burdens.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” Cirian asked, breathless, his grip on me slackening ever so slightly.
