Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
“Yes,” Voss says, moving to stand beside me. “That was why I brought him here. Without your healing, he would have certainly died.”
I stare at Raith. His eyes are closed and his expression is peaceful. He's shirtless, revealing numerous half-healed wounds across his chest and arms. The stasis has preserved him exactly as he was, frozen in time.
Through our tether, I sense him—distant but present, as if sleeping deeply.
"Why does he feel so far away?" I whisper.
“Feel?” Voss asks.
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. It just… feels wrong.”
“No, Nessa. This is exactly what you are meant for. Saving the ones you love, just like you told me.”
I study Raith's face, memorizing every line, every curve. Even in stasis, he radiates strength, determination. The man who fought his way through legacies, who claimed the blade, who carried me to safety despite his own wounds.
"What do I do?" I ask, not taking my eyes off him.
"I'll release the stasis," Voss says. "But you must act quickly. His injuries will resume their damage the moment he's free."
Typhon materializes at my shoulder, his form tense with watchfulness. "Something here is wrong,” he warns in my mind.
"It's Raith," I reply silently. "What choice do I have? Even if it’s some sort of trick. I need to help him."
Typhon's unease radiates through our tether, but he doesn't argue further.
"I'm ready," I tell Voss, gathering what little essence I've managed to recover.
Voss waves his hand and the blue light flickers, then fades. Raith begins to fall forward as gravity reclaims him, and I rush to catch him, staggering under his weight. But he feels lighter than I expected, as if he’s already lost so much blood that I can feel its absence.
Gods… Raith…
I lower him gently to the floor, cradling his head in my lap. Blood seeps from his wounds, his breathing shallow and labored.
"Hurry," Voss urges, standing back.
I place my hands on Raith's chest, calling forth my healing power. It comes sluggishly, still depleted from my overextension during the Crucible, but I push harder, drawing on reserves I didn't know I had.
Warmth flows from my palms into his body. I focus on the worst injuries first—a punctured lung, internal bleeding, fractured ribs—letting my instincts guide me through the healing process.
Raith's breathing eases, color returning to his face.
"It's working," I murmur, watching as the smaller wounds begin to close.
But something strange happens as the healing progresses. Raith's form seems to shimmer, like heat rising from summer stone. At first, I think it's my exhaustion playing tricks on my vision, but the effect intensifies.
"What's happening?" I ask, alarm rising as Raith's features begin to blur.
Voss doesn't answer, his eyes fixed on Raith with an intensity that sends chills down my spine.
Beneath my hands, Raith's body continues to shift. His shoulders narrow, his jawline softens, his hair lengthens and darkens from black to deep auburn. The scars on his face fade completely, replaced by smooth, flawless skin.
I try to pull away, but some force holds my hands in place, drawing more and more of my essence into the transformation.
When it's complete, it's no longer Raith lying in my lap, but a woman. She's breathtakingly beautiful, with high cheekbones and full lips. Her military uniform is of an unfamiliar design, its style ancient yet somehow timeless. Silver swirls mark the uniform that look nearly identical to my mark when I’m not holding the disguise.
Her eyes flutter open—silver, eyes. Older than her face, somehow.
She looks up at me with momentary confusion, then turns her head toward Voss. Recognition dawns on her face, followed by a smile of such devotion it makes my heart ache.
"Lorkan, my love," she whispers, voice rich and melodious. "Is that really you?"
"Milena." He kneels beside her, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips with reverence. "At last. It's finally time we take back what is ours."
I scramble backward, horror and confusion warring within me. "What... who..." I stammer, unable to form coherent thoughts. "Where is Raith?"
Through the tether, I search desperately for him, for any trace of the connection we'd forged. But instead of the void I feared, I find him—distant but strong, his essence pulsing with life. Not weakened or diminished, but simply far away.
Lorkan turns to me, his expression almost kind. "Raith Hollow is perfectly safe, Nessa. He never left Confluence. My unbound power is transformation. It’s how the siphons take so many forms. It’s how I made Milena look like Raith. She was wounded and nearly killed over a thousand years ago. But now that she’s back, she can create more siphons. We can control them again. Finally.”
"You used me," I whisper, the full weight of his deception crashing down. "You tricked me into healing her. To helping… you’re—"
Milena rises gracefully to her feet, her movements fluid despite centuries of stasis. "You are unbound," she says, studying me with open curiosity. "Like me." Her gaze drops to my marked hand. "Though you hide it. Why?"