Page 82 of Panther in the Shadows
Down toward the ocean floor where Catalina's binding circles used to be. Where the darkness waits to claim another victim.
Arms grab me.
Pull me up. Strong but gentle. Urgent but careful.
Not Rafe. Not any of the brotherhood. Something else. Someone else.
A figure made of water and light. Eight years old. Glowing with freedom and joy.
Elspeth.
"Not yet, big sister." Her voice sounds like waves on shore. Like laughter. Like childhood memories I thought were lost. "You have too much life left to live."
She carries me up. Pushes me toward the surface. Toward life. Her spirit form is stronger than it should be. Powered by freedom and love and gratitude. By the chance to save me the way I saved her.
We rise through the darkness. Through the cold. Through the pressure that crushes and the corruption that's already starting to fade now that Catalina is gone.
The surface appears above us. Silver moonlight filtering through black water. So close. So far.
Elspeth pushes harder. Swims with determination that makes my chest ache.
We break through together.
Air hits my face. Sweet. Cold. Precious. Gasping. Choking. Coughing up water that tastes of death and salt. My lungs expand. Contract. Pull in oxygen that feels like fire after so long without.
Alive. Against all odds. Against all logic. Alive.
Elspeth holds me at the surface. Keeps my head above water while I remember how to breathe. How to exist. How to be.
"You did it." Her voice is fading. Growing distant. The temporary strength that let her manifest is draining away. "You freed us all. You saved everyone."
"Elspeth." The name comes out broken. Desperate. "Don't go. Please. I just got you back."
"I was never really gone." She smiles. The expression is so familiar it makes tears stream down my face. "I've been here the whole time. Watching. Waiting. Hoping. You were never alone, Moira. Never."
Her form begins to fade. Water and light separating. Spirit returning to whatever comes after death.
"I love you." The words tear from my throat. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you then."
"You saved me now." She's almost transparent. Almost gone. "That's what matters. Live, big sister. Live for both of us. Be happy. Be free. Love that panther of yours. He's good for you."
She dissipates into mist. Into memory. Into the ocean that will always carry a piece of her.
The ache in my chest threatens to pull me under. Want to sink back down. Want to follow her into whatever peace she's found. Want to stop fighting and rest.
But she told me to live, and Rafe needs me.
Turning toward shore, the distance seems impossible. My body is spent. My magic is gone. Nothing left. But I swim anyway. One stroke. Another. Slow. Agonizing. Each movement costs more than I have to give.
The shore grows closer. Figures on the rocks come into focus. Declan's kneeling next to Rafe. Grayson hauling himself from the water. The others are gathering. The fighting is over. Victory has been claimed.
And Rafe. Lying on the stones. Still. Too still.
No. Not still. Breathing. Barely. Declan’s hands pressed to the wound, trying to slow the corruption. But it's not enough. The death magic is too deep. Too strong.
I swim harder. Ignoring the pain. Ignoring the exhaustion. Ignoring everything except getting to him.
My feet touch sand. Rock follows. I drag myself from the water on hands and knees. Crawling. Barely human. But moving.
