Page 161 of Whisper of Nightmares

A last-ditch effort.

And it is futile.

Euphemia flashes Kelda a sorrowful look, one that she hopes conveys the true remorse she feels for having to ignore this woman whom she has come to respect.

Then, Euphemia is bounding up the stairs, and the horrendous cry of a mother who believes she has failed her son comes careening after her. A shattering sound that will surely haunt Euphemia for the rest of her days. But only if she fails.

And she won’t—Kelda will see.

Each stride skyward fills Euphemia with confidence.

This will work.

She will show her.

She will save him.

Euphemia reaches the top of the stairs. Fumbles for the iron keys.

Behind her, Kelda’s strides reach the spiral steps, fury echoing into the cramped chamber. Euphemia hears her grunts and knows she doesn’t have much time at all.

The iron keys rattle in her hands as she searches for the right one—why hadn’t she done this part earlier? Why hadn’t she paid more attention to which key was the most important of them all?

Kelda’s pounding footsteps shake the walls.

Euphemia tries key after key.

None of them fit the lock correctly.

She curses herself. The keys. And Kelda’s quick, heated gait.

An eternity passes. Kelda is right on her heels when finally, one key slides into the lock.

Euphemia twists it and throws herself inside the tower chamber. There is no time to close and relock the door behind her. Kelda would be upon her before she even had the chance.

Instead, Euphemia bounds for Dagfinn’s body.

She slips her arm under his neck just as Kelda barrels inside, chest huffing.

“Put. Him. Down.”

Euphemia’s spine stiffens.

Slowly, she looks over her shoulder, her voice shaky as she says, “I cannot do that.”

Behind Kelda, Euphemia hears another set of steps leaping up the stairs. Asvald reaches the landing a few moments later.

“Let her try,” he says to Kelda.

A torn silence follows.

Euphemia raises the bottle up to Dagfinn’s face.

“Please, Euphemia,” Kelda begs, her voice haggard. “You don’t know what you’re doing. Dagfinn studied this magick for years, and look at the state of him. He still didn’t understand it. If you got anything wrong, you could kill him.”

Euphemia considers Kelda’s words as she gazes down upon her husband.

Kelda is wrong though. Dagfinn did not fail. In fact, his concoction did exactly what he intended. It brought him to the only place where he could find acceptance. A place where he could finally say goodbye. A place where Euphemia could too.