Page 53 of Synodic

“Good,” he said, his chest swelling towards me like he was breathing me in, needing more of my oxygen, and I became hyper-aware of the intimate space we shared on the vast stretch of forest. I instinctively leaned closer towards him, my lips slightly parting for the breath of him as well.

His relaxed body suddenly snapped to attention, as if realizing he’d made a grave mistake in allowing himself to get too comfortable around me. His eyes narrowed, scanning the silent woods as if we were being watched. “I trust you know your way back,” he said, his voice suddenly rough and clipped.

He turned from me abruptly and disappeared into the dark shadows of the night, leaving me alone and breathless in the dim glow of the forest, holding nothing but a small leaf of hope.

* * *

I was getting worse.

Each morning I woke more tired and drained than the last. My thoughts and movements grew more sluggish with each passing day. My words and limbs lagged, and my appetite was completely gone.

I was relieved I hadn’t been training with Dyani. There was no way I would have been able to keep up with her. Even the smallest act required the utmost attention and effort and left me gasping for breath.

Even though I’d only been here two weeks, I knew I’d lost a dangerous amount of weight. My reflection told me as much when I dared to look at it. My cheeks were hollow, and the light smudges I once had under my eyes were now dark smears of purple. I looked malnourished even though I forced food down my gullet several times a day. My metabolism was burning too fast to keep up. It was as if my body was in hyperdrive, working three times as hard.

I was only too glad to look away from my reflection in the small lavatory of Rowen’s dome. I was rapidly wasting away and I wished I knew why.

Was I not meant to be here? Was the environment of Luneth not compatible with my body over a long period of time?

My state affirmed how the Summit viewed me—a weakened mare—and it infuriated me that they were turning out to be right.

I hadn’t been called back to meet with the Summit, but the tension in their faces as we all awaited Erovos’ next move was evident. So far, we hadn’t heard a peep from him since Graem’s visit, and the silence weighed on us that much more heavily.

The next morning, I almost couldn’t get out of bed. It took every morsel of strength to pry myself from Rowen’s plush bedding. I barely made it out the front door before Rowen greeted me as he did every morning since the day Ven and I went off-grid.

I was ready for him to make some snide comment about the way I looked, but with just one glance at my unsteady appearance, his face creased with concern. “Youareunwell.”

“I’m fine,” I said, even as my legs threatened to buckle out from underneath me.

The last thing I remembered was thinking what a comical epitaph those two little words would make because I was clearly anything but fine.

And as I fainted right into Rowen’s arms, I knew I would never live it down.

* * *

“What happened?” I asked through half-lidded eyes, making out Takoda’s form hovering above me with his palm over my brow. His suspended hand slowly trailed down the length of my face, chest, and stomach—nothing to be discerned beyond a calm concentration.

“Your body gave out,” he said candidly, checking various acupoints along my neck and skull. As Takoda examined me with adept fingers, my eyes scanned around another exquisitely crafted dome. It was similar to Rowen’s in many ways, except this was the room of a healer. And gently laid upon the examining bedroll as I was, it was unfortunately clear that I was the patient.

Healing ferns and herbs surrounded me from floor to ceiling. Plants grew in hydroponic glass vials, their roots visible as they overflowed into spiraling green vines while leaves, seeds, and flowers dried from the walls and rafters.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rowen demanded with a growl.

“I have never seen this before. She is fading away before my very eyes,” Takoda replied, standing from his crouch and turning from me. His glorious white mane was bound at the base of his neck, and I tried to focus on the smooth-shifting muscles of his back as he gathered ingredients from around the room.

Takoda gently plucked and cut various vegetation and ground them into powder using a stone mortar and pestle. “I need to go back,” I croaked, “but I…I’ve been struggling.”

“What can be done, Takoda?” Rowen almost pleaded.

Takoda quickly brewed the ingredients into a tea and placed his hand on my shoulder. “Do you remember what happened right before you came here last?” he asked gently, too gently.

“I remember…” My voice didn’t sound like my own. It was muffled, garbled, and far away like I was hearing myself from across the room. “I remember just before I left, I felt a moment of hesitation. I…I was scared I’d be stuck here.”

What irony.

“It would seem in that moment of fear, you split yourself in two. Neither fully here nor there. Astrally torn,” Takoda said, finishing up with his brew. “You are slipping away from yourself, caught between our worlds. No body can sustain such a divide for long. Drink this, star-touched. It will help you regain a little of your strength, but not much. You will have to find and mend yourself on your own, this is a journey none but you can make. Here, help me lift her.”

Rowen’s fingers gently swept back my hair before snaking around to cradle the nape of my neck. He lifted me to the mug Takoda held before my lips, and I managed to choke down a few sips of bitter liquid.

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