Page 278 of The Cradle of Ice
Ahead, a figure stood in that lighthouse, limned against that flame.
She rushed toward that light, toward him.
Remembering all.
Who she was.
Who he was.
She struck that shore, reaching for him, for that safe harbor—and most importantly, the strength of those warm arms.
* * *
DAAL FADED AS she rushed toward him. He smiled at her joy and relief. Her golden essence burst against him, throwing him back into his body. He carried her with him.
As the smoky world returned, she was in his arms. He had not seen her move. She was simply there, as if she had always been there, hugging tight to him.
“Thank you,” Nyx whispered in his ear.
He pulled her closer with the last beat of his heart.
You’re safe.
Knowing that, he let go—of her and the world.
* * *
NYX HELD DAAL as his head fell to his shoulders and his arms draped to her sides. She felt his weight lean into her and his last breath brush her skin.
No …
She hugged and shook him. “Daal.”
His open eyes stared blindly.
She let go of his body and shifted her hands to his cheeks, drawing his eyes back to her. She sang her grief into a glow, fueling it with his flames.
I won’t let you go.
The others came rushing up, but Bashaliia hissed them back, protecting the two of them. Nyx sensed the madness there, but it would have to wait.
She reached her gift into Daal, passing through the nothingness that was everything. She swept into his empty spaces, drew energy from those vibrating hard motes. She drew upon his heart and fed it back his fire. She willed it to beat, wrapping it with energy and verve.
But it remained still and dark.
Nyx had made a promise to two—now she added a third. She put all her strength into her demand, her will, her resolve.
Never.
Still, she was refused.
“Daal … please…”
A shadow passed over her. A soft nose nuzzled her crown as Bashaliia sensed her distress. She wanted to rub his ears to reassure him, but she refused to let go of Daal. Still, the reflex to reach to Bashaliia reminded her that touch could be more powerful than any gifted song. A simple touch—fingers brushing a cheek, a hand on a shoulder—was often the start of that indescribable, wordless sense of connection, of a wholeness that could only be found in another’s heart.
So, she obeyed what she had wanted to do for a long time. She no longer hid it. She pulled Daal to her and kissed him, the most intimate of touches, sharing heat and breath. In the past, she had been wary of touching him, while at the same time desiring it, fueled by the hunger of the dark abyss inside her.
This touch had nothing to do with any darkness.
