Page 56 of Drawn into Oblivion

Vallen graciously refrained from teasing her any further. “Lie down next to her, and I shall do the same. Touching bare skin is required, so hold her hand.”

Nodding, Mai approached the other side of the bed as Vallen shifted Shumei to the center. Despite the candlelight, the room had grown darker as the sun left them for the night. Something hard dug into Mai’s back when she lay down, but after a quick adjustment, her dagger was wedged more comfortably inside her belt. She grasped Shumei’s hand, which was warmer than it should’ve been.

“She’s feverish,” Mai noted as Vallen settled on the empress’s other side.

“Maintaining the barrier took a lot out of her,” he said. “Now, mind-walking is fickle. Sometimes even joined couples cannot walk each other’s minds. I need you in case I’m unable.”

“Why me?”

“Those with similar mindsets and outlooks have a better chance of success. They know the mental terrain better, in a sense. I know Shumei well, but my life has been far different from hers. You and she are both crow women of this era. Your deep friendship also helps. Rosuke once walked my mind many years ago when I had been knocked unconscious during a fight with demons.”

“A deep friendship? But I haven’t known the empress that long.”

“Not an old friendship, Mai—a deep one. You are her closest friend, the closest she has.”

His pronouncement humbled Mai. She had assumed the empress had made fast friends with others by now, and thought of herself as a loner, just as she had been before. How was she still forgetting that many in the court had been alone much of their lives? Shumei was no exception.

“What will happen if I succeed?” she asked.

“I honestly don’t know, but please help her in whatever way you can.”

“I shall,” she vowed.

“Listen to the word I speak and repeat it, but listen carefully. The spell takes you immediately, and I cannot say it again.”

“Good luck,” she said before holding her breath.

“Seishin hokou.” The barest whisper of sound told her Vallen had gone limp, and hesitancy reared its head. Mind spells indeed were tricky and unpredictable. The only such magic she’d ever heard of was meant to compel someone’s obedience, but one had to be susceptible for it to work. Some minds were simply stronger than others. And she had never heard of mind-walking before, let alone attempted it. What if she hurt herself or the empress?

“You can do this. You can do this. Trust yourself,” she whispered.

What was most important now was Shumei’s safety. Without her, there would be no court and no champion to defeat the evil threatening to swallow their world whole.

“Seishin hokou.”

Her mind snapped back as if walloped with a blunt object, pulling it loose from its physical home. Everything around her was dark. She didn’t have a body with which to feel nauseated, yet a sensation not unlike nausea overwhelmed her. If she could have thrown up, she might have.

Gravity disappeared, leaving her floating in that spinning abyss. Her mind’s eye saw movement, like limbs shifting beneath a black, silken sheet. A whisper floated by— unintelligible but without a doubt Shumei’s high, gentle voice. She then felt pressure, as if the front of her mind were being compressed. No, it was pushing—probing at the black sheet for even the smallest tear.

There, a frayed bit of thread and light beyond. She pushed her mind against that small pinhole, widening it. When it broke open, the light was so bright she couldn’t see anything but a headache. She gasped and realized she had lungs, a mouth, and air. A gentle breeze flowed over her face. Gravity found her and put her on solid ground. She brought her hands up and could barely see their outline in all that light, but slowly, her eyes adjusted, her pupils contracting.

Trees. Flowers. She was in a field, one spotted with cherry trees. But something wasn’t right. She saw no color—or rather, her surroundings were so faded that the grass, the trees, and the myriad flowers were all nearly gray.

She spun slowly and spotted two figures in the distance. She recognized the empress instantly, held in the arms of someone in white—the Divine One. Shumei convulsed in his embrace, her agonized cry tinny in the thin air.

Mai’s heart jumped to her throat. She hiked up her skirt and ran across the field. All around her, colors faded even more. The warm breeze was growing chill. Then the wind stopped, and the world went silent.

“Shumei,” she called, only seconds away. The empress lay limp in the Divine One’s arms, and she was all that remained of the color in this dying plane. In fact, she looked more vibrant than ever, as if her black hair were as deep as midnight, her lips as red as blood, her skin as radiant as sunlit jewels.

“Mai, I knew you would come.” The Divine One turned his faceless hood toward her.

She stopped close enough to feel the aura of power encompassing the empress. “What happened?”

“I give her to you. Hold her close. You can take her back now.”

“Did… Did she die?” she asked in a small voice.

“No, sweet Mai, she is fine. Do as I command.”