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"So you've come at last," she said with a lilting Irish accent.
"You're Gwen," Mara stammered.
Her eyes sparkled with amusement. "Aye, that's me. And you are here to set me free at last. You took your time."
"It's Augustus's fault for not finding me earlier," Mara found herself saying. "Bloody sorcerers."
Gwen laughed a big belly laugh that made Mara feel a little better. "He always was a stubborn ass. Lucky, he found you at all."
Mara held onto Gwen's hand, unsure of what would happen if she let it go. "He misses you."
"I know, and as much as I love him, he needs to let me go. You are going to help him with that. I just know it." Gwen laughed. "Don't look so worried,achara. I saw you in his future long ago. I'm half-fae, and we are all cursed with the dratted Sight. All except for the important things like dying in a damn cave."
"I'm sorry," Mara said, squeezing her hand. "And so is he."
"There's no use fighting your fate. Augustus really loves to blame himself for everything, but it was magic that took me, not him." Gwen smiled at her, and it was so bright, tears pricked Mara's eyes. "No tears, saint. I always knew that I would be a woman that he loved, but you were always going to bethewoman. You will look after him, won't you?"
"Yes, always," Mara replied. "I was waiting for him too."
"Give him hell for making us both wait for so long. If you survive, give him this too. I may have stolen it from him for fun, and he'll be missing it. It will help guide you back to him."
Gwen pressed something smooth and round into her hand before hugging her tightly. Her eyes glowed with unnatural light, and Mara knew that magic had taken over Gwen's body.
She opened her mouth and said in a deep, ancient voice, "Thank you for healing us both and setting us free, Saint of heartache."
Mara made to reply, but Gwen shoved her back into the vortex with a smile.
Like Alice and Dorothy combined, Mara fell through a hurricane of silver stags and stars, leopards and laughter, magic and madness.
And then it was only the cawing of crows, the brush of black feathers, and darkness.
Twenty-Six
"There is no greater mistakea sorcerer can make than to think that they understand magic. Even in this most enlightened time of scientific reasoning and logic, magic is there to remind us that it defies both, existing in a realm apart and by rules, we will never know." — Sorcery in the Age of Reason.
Augustus couldn't breathe. The wind and magic in the cave were clenching him like he was caught in a fist.
Mara was glowing like she had a sun inside of her. Augustus fought against the power gripping him, but he wasn't strong enough. He reached her, panic and desperation overriding all reason. He lunged, and all he caught was crow feathers.
"Mara!" he shouted, trying to follow her into the pillar of gray smoke and wild magic.
A bolt of magic struck him hard in the chest, and he screamed, his heart burning as it knitted together. He clutched the handfuls of feathers, his last thought of his saint, and magic slammed him back into darkness.
Augustus woke, his whole body aching and a cat pawing at his face. He groaned, trying to sit up and finding it difficult.
The sun was rising outside the cave mouth, the gully heavy with mist.
"Augustus? Are you alive," Athanasius asked, pawing him again.
"In a manner of speaking." Augustus pulled himself upright and tried to get his bearings. He was lying in a pile of crow feathers. "No."
"Augustus…"
"No. No. No. She can't be gone. She can't…" Augustus sobbed, holding the feathers to his chest.
"She released her miracle. It's rare that a Corvo can handle such divine power. She saved you, saved magic," Athanasius said softly. "All magic demands a price, a sacrifice. You know this better than most."
"It was meant to be me!" Augustus cried out. "I was meant to be the sacrifice. I can't do this. I can't be the one who survives, not again…" His voice broke, and he held the feathers to his face and shouted in rage and despair. "Mara. My darling. Why did you go into the magic?"
