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This has to work.
I don’t have another option. Either I save Azarius, or he dies in my arms.
My breath stutters at the thought, but I divert my attention back to summoning my magic.
“Devyn,” Ignatius is saying, but I’m done listening. I don’t care what he’s about to say; I don’t want to hear it.
All I want is for Azarius to be alright, and if that means pouring every bit of myself into him to make it happen, that’s what I plan to do.
My magic sparks to life, flaring in my chest and slowly morphing into something bigger. I feel it in my veins, a tingling that vibrates just beneath my skin, and I focus in on it.Hard.Every emotion, every bit of my energy, I shove into the feeling, willing it to grow stronger and focusing my intent on saving my mate.
I want to heal every bone, mend every artery. Whatever the Malev destroyed, I want to fix it.
I will fix it.
Because if I fail, Azarius could die. We both could.
This has to work.
The clearing is silent, and there’s no telling how many eyes are on us now. I refuse to peek, refuse to pry my eyes open. I don’t care about anything else in the world right now, only that my magic keeps pooling, keeps growing.
I’m not holding back, not afraid of what might happen if I use too much. I pour every drop of energy into the spell I intend to perform, a healing spell I have no idea how to use, and focus clearly on my intention.
Then, placing my hands flat against Azarius’ cold, hard chest, I unleash the flow of magic. The force of it makes my limbs tremble, the wave of power rushing out of me like a waterfall, sinking into my mate. I grit my teeth at the sensation, feeling the strength slipping out of my body as the magic drains me of everything I have.
I keep going, pushing the magic out even though it feels like I’m being drained of something crucial. Like my lungs need air to breathe, my cells need the magic I’m using up, and they ache.
I know I’m getting close to my limit, the point of no return. I’m using up every ounce of magic in my cells, not knowing if I’ll have enough energy left to breathe at the end of this, but I keep going.
I keep fighting, because I need this to work.
I need Azarius to live.
Lightheadedness takes over as I send out the last drops of magic I can conjure, and I pry my eyes open to find the edges of my vision black. Azarius’ chest is no longer blotchy and purple, but he still isn’t moving. He’s still barely breathing.
With disappointment landing on my shoulders, and defeat worming its way into my heart, I lose my grip on consciousness and everything goes black.
ChapterThirty-Seven
RAFE
Isee Devyn’s eyelids flutter, and the swirling white magic pouring out of her flickers before dying altogether. She slumps, and I turn to smoke in an instant, racing to catch her before she hits the ground.
Solid once more, I cradle her against my chest, brushing stray blonde hairs away from her face with blood-stained fingers. I trace them along her cheek, waiting for her eyes to pop open again, but they don’t.
“Devyn,” I say, tapping affectionately against her face to wake her. Her pulse is faint and slow, her breathing shallow, almost unnoticeable. “Wake up. Come on now.”
Still, nothing.
My chest twists uncomfortably as I stare down at her closed eyes, not daring to let the horrific thoughts dancing at the edge of my mind take root. She might have exhausted her magic, but she couldn’t have exhausted her life force. She would have known when to stop. She wouldn’t have sacrificed herself trying to save Azarius.
Would she?
I’m vaguely aware of everyone watching, wondering what the hell is happening, but I don’t care. They can watch. They can wonder. They could be rejoicing the downfall of the Malevs right now, and I wouldn’t bat an eye.
Nothing beyond the scope of Devyn in my arms registers as I squeeze her a little tighter.
“Devyn,” I say, her name lodging in my throat. “My love, you have to wake up. Please.”
