Page 271 of The Cradle of Ice
She lifted her arms and cast out ribbons of golden song, reassuring and welcoming. She repeated her last words to him, both in melody and voice.
“Come back to me.”
He swept to her level, overshot, then with a single beat of his wings pulled abreast of her. He tried to join her on the footpath, but there was barely room. She hopped to the side, buffeted by his wings. She grabbed the rung of a ladder to hold herself steady.
Bashaliia fought to perch next to her, but he struggled to get his claws in place. Then a talon reached, snagged his old body, and rolled it off the footway to make room. She gasped and reached for it, but then pulled back. She had said as much of a good-bye as she could.
She stared up at Bashaliia as he finally landed and folded his wings. He rocked in place, like he always did when happy or nervous or both. It was still Bashaliia in there. She suspected she would have to keep reminding herself of that.
Before, the top of his head had barely reached her nose. Now that steel-helmed crown was so high. She would have to reach her arm up to scratch his chin. He cocked his head, as if testing the weight of that steel. He keened in distress.
She reached a hand to his heart, then shifted her palm higher.
He is so much taller.
She sang a promise, adding words to cement it. “We’ll get that off you.”
And those copper needles out of you.
He rocked on his legs, this time clearly nervous. He stared with one eye, then the other, down at the blood, at the knife still on the platform. He whined in his throat, a note of apology, asking even now for forgiveness, believing he had done something wrong.
“No, my sweet boy.” She reached to him, still balancing on one leg, hiding the wince of pain so as not to scare him. “You are perfect.”
He leaned his head down. She hooked her arms around his neck and pressed into him. He smelled rank from his abuse, a reek of excrement from a poorly kept pen, the burn of punishment. She felt the scars around his neck from chains and steel collars. She felt the reflexive tremor from a body that had seen too much torture.
I’m sorry this is the body I had to give you.
He pushed into her, needing more reassurance, nearly knocking her off the platform with his strength. She clung tighter. She closed her eyes and sang to him. She used the fire left inside her to warm a glow. She let it suffuse into his frightened heart, to let him know he was loved. He slowly joined her, a soft keening, rocking again, but more with contentment. She layered on harmonies that were both memories and promises. She infused her sorrow and shame for what she had done to him, asking for his forgiveness.
He keened back his trust.
She pressed her brow to his chest.
“Thank you…”
She straightened and rubbed ears that were too tall. She felt the snuffle of velvet at her neck. Such touches, more than their shared glow, drew them closer. They sang together until his heart lost its panic, allowing him to start to find his center again in this new body.
Then lightning struck them both.
Bonded in that moment, she felt the rip of emerald fire. Flames burned the inside of his skull, seeking to dominate and enslave. Madness frilled the edges, ready to rip away sanity, leaving only mindless control.
Nyx gasped and stared up.
No.
Jagged bolts of energy chased down the pit, striking walls and ricocheting off them. They struck the steel helm and frazzled across the top, demanding submission.
Bashaliia screamed, toppling off the platform.
She leaped out and onto his back. She snagged fistfuls of scruff at the base of his neck and clung there as he fluttered and fought to regain himself. She never let her song drop, protecting Bashaliia, refusing to let him go.
She drove her fire into his skull. He remained too fragile to fight on his own, to resist the torture that demanded obedience. Instead, she siphoned that pain and madness into herself, stripping it from her winged brother.
Bashaliia recovered enough to draw level, to catch her under him.
She stared up, full of rage, edged by madness, rife with fire both golden and emerald. She took a breath and screamed one word, one command, one promise.
Never.
