Page 112 of Prisoner of Darkness and Dreams
Chapter 37
Morgana
Iwatch the scythe slip from Leon’s body, the golden glow of its enchantment fading as the bearer shoves his body into the dirt.
He can’t be seriously hurt. There’s no blood blooming across his tunic, no visible wound.
Then it hits me. Agony batters through my body, piercing my mind and reaching into some deep, untouchable part of me. I scream, because I’m being split in two, wrenched apart one particle at a time. My whole body buckles, and I hit the ground, my fingers grinding into the dirt between the cobblestones.
“Leon.”I reach out to him, calling across the mooring, searching for the warm, strong presence that’s tied to my very soul.
But he’s not there. It’s like he’s been wiped away. All that answers me is terrible, eternal silence.
NO.
They will not rip him from me like this. They do not get to have him.
I take the agony of our separation and pour it into my veins, using it to light a fire more powerful than a thousand furnaces. A rage as hot as the sun bubbles up within me, and I push the molten force of my magic outward.
I explode, releasing the power of the sun with a savage cry.
The heat beam that leaves my body is so bright that people around me have to shield their eyes. The bearer holding the scythe takes the full force of a flash of white light, his body instantly disintegrating. The scythe falls to the cobblestones with a clang, quickly buried in a shower of ash. A trail of smoke drifts upward, carried away on the air.
Not enough. It’s not even a drop of the pain I feel.
Caledon pushes his way through his clerics, scrambling for the fallen scythe. My power may not be able to hurt him, but I can make the rest of them pay.
My chest heaves with exertion as I call on my magic again, letting sunlight pour out of me in searing rays. I kill the clerics fighting my friends first, the light hitting them so quickly they haven’t got a chance of lifting their hands fast enough to counter. In seconds, they’re nothing more than piles of ash and bone.
Many of them start to turn and run as I advance into the battle zone. My light just chases after them, passing through them and into the buildings beyond, leaving smoking holes and remnants of rubble in its wake.
“Protect the carriage!” That cold voice I’ve heard so often in my nightmares barks orders to his minions. I pay it no attention. I only care about reaching Leon.
This isn’t real. It can’t be. He can’t be gone.
My enemies leave him lying on the ground as they flee. I step around the smoldering craters where their comrades fell, hurrying to his side.
It’s so strange, how still he looks, his face blank and eyes closed. He should look like he’s sleeping—but he doesn’t. As I kneel beside him and take his warm hand, I can’t help but think it’s as if Leon had simply gotten up and walked out of his body, leaving this shell behind. Something about it just isn’t him anymore.
I reach my magic outward, desperately searching for his inner flame. If I can revive whatever they’ve done, it’ll be okay. I can save him, I know it.
My heart leaps when I find it. His inner flame is still burning tall and strong.
Except like Leon’s face, there’s something missing. His celestial flame isn’t a fiery red or gold like usual. Instead, it’s a strange, translucent gray. It’s there, the spark of life dwelling inside of him, but it’s turned ghostly. When I touch my magic to it, hoping to bring its color back, my power just slips right through it, like a hand through mist. I can’t reach it, no matter how hard I try.
I can’t reachhim.
“Please Leon,”I shout across the mooring, although I might as well be screaming into a void.“You can’t leave me here. You promised.”
He swore he’d always find me, in the dream world or the waking one. But how is he going to find me when he’s no longer here?
Except, as I concentrate on the connection, I feelsomething. It takes me a moment to realize it’s his heartbeat, still thudding in his chest with a steady rhythm. I hold my hand to his mouth and feel the shallow breath on it, and my own heart skips a beat.
He’s alive.
A deep sob racks my body at the realization. I’m vaguely aware of the trundle of carriage wheels and the sound of horses cantering away nearby, but I can only hold on to this one thought.
He’s alive. But something’s very wrong. All the signs of life are faint and tepid, as if they’re slowly puttering out. I sense his body’s only just holding on, weakened by whatever absence I felt the moment I touched him.
