Page 94 of Gift from the Stone

Guilt clouds every surface of him, from the wildness in his glare to the way his posture looks beaten down. Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. She shoved him out of the way and took the dagger that would’ve hit him.

Why the fuck did she jump in front of Lyker? She could die for this. I’ll kill him if my little wanderer dies right now.

As Jamie continues to hover his hands over her body, he grunts as if he’s in pain himself.

“I can’t. I can’t heal this. There’s something taking over her blood, rapidly. She doesn’t have much longer.”

My dragon thrashes around in my chest, trying to escape the closing walls. My breathing becomes labored along with hers, and my heart breaks into a thousand pieces. If she dies, I’ll die right along with her, and in this moment, that’s exactly what I’d want. There’s no way I’d want to live a life without her in it. The thought of us dying, leaving my brothers behind, has tears falling from my eyes.

“Little wanderer,” I choke.

Grabbing a hold of her limp, cold hand, she doesn’t even have the strength to squeeze my hand back, just a small twitch of her finger. There’s no giggling or shaking her head at me. There are no hungry looks or comforting purrs. She’s lying motionless, her eyes bouncing to each of us.

“She’s saying tar. Tar what? What is it?” Tillman urges, staring into her eyes, begging her for an answer.

“The Tarring poison. The dagger is laced in Tarring poison. This is why she made us make the cures. Oh, Willow.” Oakly gasps, causing all of us to whip our heads to her.

“The cures you all made her first day of shifter class? The same day she had that awful vision? It was because of this?” I don’t know if I’m asking or stating. I’m just trying to put the pieces together in my mind.

“Yes, yes, that’s it. She agrees. Pocket. Something’s in her pocket. Check her pockets,” Tillman orders, and the four of us begin patting her down.

“There’s nothing there,” Corentin shouts.

“No, her pocket dimension. She put the cures in her pocket dimension,” Oakly croaks out as her tears flow down her face in a rapid stream.

“Guys…” I groan, trying to breathe through the pain that just hit me. “We don’t have long.”

Pain like nothing I’ve ever felt slices across my body, dragging a sob out of the depths of my soul. It feels like my blood is slowing as it makes its way through my veins. It’s hard to hear, hard to think, or talk. There’s nothing but pain. Her pain. I feel it all.

I can remember a drunken Gaster one night telling us how a bond he had at one time in his long ass life severed. He explained it as a piece of his soul being ripped apart, shredded to pieces.

I know that this is exactly that. The part of my soul that’s woven together by threads of a connection tied to Willow, far deeper than I could ever explain, is beginning to tear off. And in the process, I’m feeling everything she’s feeling.

“Draken,” Caspian barks.

“Yeah… What?” I shake my head out, trying to clear the pain to focus on them.

“Did you hear anything Tillman just said to you?” he asks softer, finally noticing my obvious struggle.

“No. I’m sorry. What did you say?” I grit my teeth as another wave hits me.

“She said for you to open it. Open her dimension,” Tillman orders.

“But I can’t. I don’t know…” I trail off as one of our many nightly conversations come to mind.

We were lying in her bed, waiting for Tillman to join us at some point. She was leaning against my chest, my fingers trailing through her soft hair as she read from her journal.

“Do you have any pocket dimensions?” she asks me randomly.

“No, little wanderer, never really needed one and I can barely speak Elema Lingua Vetus, despite Gaster’s persistent bickering for me to learn it all. Why?” I ask.

“I was just wondering if you did and where you wove it. Mine is woven into the fabric of Elementra, out in the open, so I can access it anywhere,” she says excitedly.

“Damn, kitten, you’re a little badass,” I growl, attacking her neck with kisses as she squeals, trying to get away from me. “So how do you access your other world, little wanderer?”

“It’s just a pocket dimension.” She laughs, lightly patting my chest. “Well, I ground my magic into the earth, then I draw a circle like this, and when my points meet at the top, I pull down the center like a zipper, opening it up.” I watch her with a small smile on my lips as she shows me her way of getting her pocket dimension opened. Everything she does amazes me and brings me so much happiness.

“I just read in my journal, though, that I don’t have to ground my magic into the earth before opening the dimension; that’s just the easiest way. I apparently can ground it into whatever I need to balance myself,” she exclaims, sitting up and gracing me with a huge smile.

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