Silence stretches between us—long, heavy—until a faint whisper slips free on her next breath.
“Worthy marked.
“Scales. Will. Balance.
“Guard… him. Saith God.”
Tension leaves her body all at once, and she goes limp.
I commit each word to memory so I might reflect on it later when there’s time. But a few of the phrases give me pause. The names and…
Reign with mercy.
A gift… of many forms.
Handmaiden of God.
Could this be her?
A priestess who carries knowledge she should not possess… power she should not wield…
A woman who has captured something so many have not—enough of my long-dead humanity that I find myself incapable of letting her pass from this world.
I scan the ground below and spot a small clearing ahead—a strip of earth still living. I angle my wings and descend, slowing, quieting them as much as possible, unwilling to let their beat drown out her voice should she speak again.
I touch down gently, folding my wings as soon as my feet meet the soil. The sudden quiet feels heavy.
Shrugging my cloak from my shoulders, I spread it across the ground and carefully lower her onto it. I lie beside her, close enough to feel every uneven breath, while shutting out the broken world around us.
Her pulse stutters as does her heart.
I press my palm to her chest and reach inward, scanning her body. Her tether to this life is withering.
Something is wrong. Beneath her skin—something moves. It threads through her bloodstream, rapid, invasive, spreading like a disease through her blood cells. Foul. Toxic.
I close my eyes and move my hand more slowly over her body, healing as I go, searching—trying to find the source.
It is not confined to her blood. It has taken hold in her organs as well. There is divinity there… but it is fading.
As is she.
I pause over her stomach. What I feel there disturbs me greatly.
Without hesitation, I pull open her cloak and begin working through the layers of clothing.
Her skin is warm again. Her stomach is flat—save for a small rise between her navel and hip. I know what it is the moment I touch it. My hand recoils.
Shock fills me.
I steady myself and continue, opening her clothing further, pushing the fabric aside. I find more—what I sensed but could not see.
Hidden.
With focused precision, I trace the seams of her garments, discovering the concealed compartments.
Two small vials sewn into the lining.
More—small capsules embedded beneath her skin.
