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A breath caught in his lungs, playing a familiar death rattle.
I braced myself for his spirit to pass through mine, balling my hands and getting ready for the shock of his ether, his Semetzi, promising to protect him while he was no longer allowed in this mortal realm.
Runa let out a strangled cry, sensing what I did.
With her white hair strewn over Natim’s shoulders, her sobs came harder, shaking her entire body.
This time, I couldn’t stop myself, and Way didn’t tell me not to.
I bent to touch her.
To pull her away from her dead fawn and—
A golden glow suddenly rivered from her skin.
My hand hovered but didn’t touch; my fingers gilded with her sunshine light.
With a cry of pure anguish, Runa flung herself on Natim and enveloped him from horn to hoof in glowing, gleaming gold.
I tripped backward, shielding my eyes as the lupic became ablaze with a sun that’d fallen from sky to earth.
Way raised her head.
She scrambled backward with a gasp, knocking into a shelf holding jars and bowls of healing. “By the fire—”
The smoke hole funnelled Runa’s blinding light up and out, no doubt splitting the cloudy horizon for all to see outside.
I sucked in a breath as the strangest sensation unfurled through me. A sickly chill from Natim. A gasping, suffocating horror. Followed by the purest grace as Runa cracked open her heart and poured everything she was into him.
I felt her link with the deer.
I jerked at the snapping of her spirit with his, dragging mine along with hers, locking me in her magic as the unwanted spectator.
I collapsed to my knees as the world around me vanished.
I drowned beneath her power.
A power so very, very different to mine.
A faultless purity. An impeccable sinlessness that tasted as sweet as honey and spun through my blood as delicate as spider silk.
That unblemished perfection cloaked Natim and sank into his every cell. It wrapped around him, cherished him, soothed him, and the suffocating sickness began to fade.
Bit by bit.
Heartbeat by tattered heartbeat.
I saw for the first time just how powerful she was and just how far she’d go to protect those she loved.
With determination and recklessness, she forced every glow of her lifeforce into Natim—trading her blood for his, cleansing his body, ridding his system of venom, purifying it with light, love, and selfless longevity.
Natim took a breath.
And then another.
And the lupic beamed with another pulse of gold as Runa raised her head, smiled as the young stag opened his eyes, and then...
I groaned as her power exploded.
It tore through me.
Wrong and strong, breaking me apart, snarling at me for daring to feel such magic.
I wasn’t permitted.
I was opposite.
The antithesis to her creation.
The link between Runa and me—the link that’d formed the moment I sank inside her—broke with a heart-rendering crack. I tumbled to the side, landing on my elbow as Natim stood and shook out his gleaming coat. My eyes swam, blinded by gold that continued to pour off him, blinking back confusion as he changed.
He grew.
His legs lengthened.
His mane thickened.
His antlers shot toward the lupic roof, spiralling out with velvet-covered bone, curling and twirling, towering over us from their sudden height. The tips tangled in the drying flowers and plants, becoming one with the hanging medicines as Runa’s magic fed into everything that Natim touched.
Dried flowers came alive again, withered twigs sprouted, and vines tumbled and looped around his impressive rack of antlers.
Along his brow and at the base of his giant crown dotted bluebells, daisies, and orchids. More flowers sprouted along his spine while the softest moss covered the rest of his cream-glossy hide.
Without a word, Runa climbed unsteadily to her feet.
The stag nosed her, keeping her upright as she swayed before the giant beast that stood in Natim’s place. Her head tilted and eyes searched, diving into the deep, dark pools of the deer’s endless stare.
They shared a look for an age before the beast snorted and tossed his mighty head. He pawed at the strewn bison skins on the floor, his cloven hooves splayed as large as lily pads. Butterflies appeared from the bluebells on his back as if they’d hatched from their chrysalises, brought forth by Runa’s incredible power.
Natim raised his head to the smoke hole, his rack of flower-laden antlers catching on the edges with his monstrous size. He shook his head, making the jewelled butterflies scatter. The butterflies landed on Runa’s shoulders, coating her in their dust just as bees appeared, covering her in glittering pollen.
He roared.
A roar of a mature rutting stag that shook the lupic walls, made Way huddle into a ball against her potions, and Runa burst into tears.
She threw her arms around his thick neck.
Slowly, I pushed upright.
I rubbed my eyes.
I ran both hands over my face.
And what I’d seen was still there, still real, still true.
