Page 84 of The Blood Rites

A shudder tears through him.

“But you do not belong to her.”

My heart freezes, the shield rippling as my knees threaten to splinter, but I stay upright.

Behind me, Marissa is screaming, but it’s far away, like a voice at the bottom of a well.

Atheron laughs and throws another fireball, this one aimed directly at my face. I’m too slow, too exhausted, and it hits me in the shoulder. My arm drops away in agony and the shield falters.

Kael is shouting too, but not words—just my name, over and over.

I channel my remaining Mana into the buckled shield with my remaining hand, but it’s not enough.

In front of me, the wave hesitates. For a moment, it’s as if time stops. The water bends outwards, peeking over the edge of my broken shield, savouring its view of the kill.

It arches around the shield in a perfect crest.

Then, with a hiss, it collapses downwards.

The wave leaps at us, hungry and alive. In the instant before it hits, Kael wraps Marissa in his arms, turning his body to shield her from the brunt of it.

The wave catches Theon first and rips him from the plateau. He almost looks as though he's flying, arms spread wide to embrace the world.

The wave rolls him violently before hurling him onto the spiked rocks below.

The water seems to hang there, suspended, relishing the victory. Then it vanishes, evaporating into a mist so thick I can taste it, like poison on my tongue.

I hit my knees. My shoulder is on fire. Above me, the Mother Shard flickers, then shifts.

It is as though I’m no longer in my body.

Yet I still see the number on the Mother Shard change from two to three, as Theon’s broken corpse is absorbed and counted.

I hear the whispering chant of the Overseers. Here but not here.

Let the Veins be fed.

I’m floating in a transient space as the Heartlands fade from view. I look down at my hands.

They don't feel like mine anymore.

The world peels back in shreds, the stone beneath me cold and damp. I’m on my knees, back in the Embrace. The golden cracks that cover the floor of my room are unchanged.

Already, I can feel my wounds knitting shut, the burning flesh on my shoulder regrowing in a grotesque display of the Mother Shard’s mercy. My uniform is still soaked through and torn.

I kneel there on the cold floor for a long time, unable to move.

There is a knock on the door, but they do not wait for permission to enter.

Kael kneels beside me—I know it’s him without looking—his breath a wet rasp.

“You did it,” he whispers.

I did nothing.

“You saved her.”

I failed.