Page 109 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
Now that’s fairer, because I couldn’t possibly forget the name of such an ethereal being.
“You’re…Damia…” I say thickly, doing my best to suppress another cough.
“That’s it. Just?—”
“Damia, the carriage! Get back to the carriage!” I recognize this voice too, calling from a few feet away. That’s when it all comes back to me: the Hand, the clerics and the fae, as well as the reason we’re here in the first place.
I gasp, and it feels like I’m dragging my lungs over hot coals.
“The child, Damia,” I mumble. “You have to protect them. What about the mission?—”
“Fuck the mission,” Damia says, and I watch as she pulls a snake from her collar, setting it on the ground. Next, she rips off her belt and starts to fasten it tightly around my middle, ripping a scream of agony from me.
My cry mingles with that of a cleric who just tried to get too close. Barb pulls her fangs from his leg, hissing happily as he backs away. Then she proceeds to dart playfully at another figure sprinting past us.
Damia’s ripped off a piece of her shirt now and is doing something with that too. I can’t see what; I can’t even lift my head. The darkness keeps coming, slowly spreading across my vision.
“I saiddon’t die, Corrin,” Damia snaps, shaking me. “Gods, you couldn’t follow an order if your life depended on it.” But now she doesn’t look so angry. In fact, she looks afraid. I didn’t think she could look like that. I don’t like it.
Then she disappears from my vision, and I’m left quite cold and alone. At least I still have Barb, hissing beside my ear to keep me company.
Footsteps shake the ground beside me, and Damia’s back. This time she’s dragging the princess with her.
My friend, the princess. Who would’ve thought it?
Princess Morgana is throwing out sun beams left and right. She’s like Ralus himself and seems to only half hear what Damia is saying to her.
“You have to heal him,” she shouts over the noise of battle.
“What?”
Damia forcefully spins the princess around, pointing to me. I try to smile in greeting, but I’m not sure if I still have control of my face.
“You have to heal him, now,” Damia says.
The princess looks at her with wide eyes. “I can’t heal wounds like this—you know that.”
“But you can buy him time,” Damia replies, andhereyes are like twin emerald fires burning in the night.
The princess gives her a long look, then she nods and kneels beside me. I’m even colder now. So cold that I can’t feel the princess’s hands when she lays them on me.
“Cover me,” the princess tells Damia, then closes her eyes. I join her, letting my heavy lids finally slide shut.
But something’s stirring deep inside me. A force eating away at the iciness at my core, a flare of power—of bright, warm, life-giving light. It surges through me, thawing my stiff, frozen body.
I’m still in pain. There’s a jagged stab like someone’s twisting a knife just below my navel. But I’m fully awake to it, my mind clear and my body strong enough to fight through it. If part of me was draining away moments ago, now I feel life coursing through me.
I open my eyes and slowly sit up. Hands grab my arm to steady me as I suck in air sharply through my teeth.
“By Winnivus, that hurts,” I say.
“Nice to have you back with us, Corrin,” Princess Morgana says with a tense smile as Damia takes one hand off me to grab her shoulder.
“Thank you,” Damia says to the princess, and I don’t think I’m imagining the catch in her voice. “Now go.”
The princess throws herself to her feet, sun beams pouring from her hands as she rejoins the fight. For one, brief moment, my eyes meet Damia’s, and I think she might kiss me. Then her gaze lifts above my head, staring at something behind me. Her face breaks into an expression of relief.
“They’re here.”
