Page 77 of Curse of Darkness
I hate seeing him like this.
“Help me across,” she says.
Step by step, we cross toward him. My heart breaks when we finally reach him, and I go to my knees, my hand skating over his freezing cold skin. “Thiago?”
There’s nothing there.
Nothing but the vessel he left behind. Tearing off my cloak, I place it over him, trying to warm him. Hot tears slip down my cheeks.
“Break the glass,” the Mother says, “and bring it to his lips.”
I crack the ampoule against the rock, somewhat like cracking an egg. Wisps of silvery soul stream through the fracture lines, but it’s not until I lift it to his mouth that they pause, as if they sense where they should be going.
I break the glass apart and hold it to his lips.
His soul gushes toward his mouth, and then vanishes inside him.
Thiago’s chest rattles as if he sucks it in.
And then it falls.
I place a hand on his shoulder, the pressure in my chest increasing as I search for a single sign of life….
His eyelashes don’t flutter.
The muscle in his jaw doesn’t flex.
Nothing happens.
He’s cold and pale, andnothinghappens.
“Please.I don’t want to do this alone.” Hot tears escape me. “Please come back to me. Come back to me.”
I slam my fists down on his chest, and try to force the heat and hurt building within me through him. My tears splash on his chest, but they don’t gleam golden. They don’t sink inside his skin, nor stir through his veins.
I can’t bring him back, and it nearly ruins me.
The Hallow’s magic slips through my fingers.
“Think of the network, Vi. In the past, to wield the Hallow’s magic, those without the gift of the gods would use a kingly sacrifice or a relic of power. Neither is necessary. Not for you. You can sense the leylines; you can pluck their strings and drink their power. Now you must learn to refill the well. Here.” The Mother of Night places her hand over mine. “Close your eyes. Let yourselffeel.”
Taking a shuddering breath, I release everything that’s bottled up inside me and reach for the song of the Hallows.
At first it’s distant.
Faint pulsing magic. I can feel this Hallow. The echo of Mistmere.
“Reach out,” she whispers. “Pluck the strings.”
Five Hallows are linked to Mistmere. If I concentrate, I can just feel the distant buzz. They sing back to me.
“There,” she breathes. “Wells full of power. Bring it to you, Vi.”
The trickle of magic runs over my senses. Then it becomes a flood.
“Not too much,” she warns. “Just enough to fill Mistmere’s glutted pool of magic.”
Heat lights through my veins. Energy. All the hairs on my body stand on end. I try and channel it through him.
