“Get back–” Her voice cracked and broke, and her friends charged forward. The mud grew cold under her feet as her eyes darted between the small approaching squad to the mound of stone and muscle that covered the maple tree. From Rimmel and Nelly to the massive head that could snap them up in a bite. From Aidan, with his sword blazing blue, to the shard and the steam that slowly crept from the mud.

  “Stop!” Syra threw up the signal for Aidan to halt.

  But his hand was already raised. And she watched in slowed, sharp detail as an austrum-tipped arrow arched from Rimmel's bow, its morakii core streaking through the air like the shooting star that bore it. Syra's chest seized and, for a moment, she was back on the battlefield in Erdenir as the arrow lodged itself at the base of the dragon's neck.

  Syra clenched her eyes shut and shoved herself into the mud.

  One…two…

  It took 2 seconds for the austrum coating to melt. It took 1 second for the morakii to shatter.

  Three.

  The air stood still as the expanding ball of light and stone and blood muted all sound and sent the soldiers flying off their feet.

  Syra’s claws raked the ground as the blast forced her backward. Her snout filled with the scent of mud, ozone, and charred flesh. It was a shrieking cry that brought Syra's hearing back. One that made her recall her mother's dying moment. A cry of pain.

  Syra coughed back her breath and squinted from the cloud of dust.

  “Is everyone alright?” Aidan’s call was answered with a chorus of coughs and groans, and Syra breathed a quick sigh until another cry rang out.

  Through the dust Marrak’s shadow rose, only to collapse again in a haggard heap. Syra could hear his breathing, wet and burbling as if thick with mucus. It creaked and whined as he rose again and huffed the dust away.

  Syra’s gut went sour.

  A cavern of flesh gaped from his neck and shoulder. Bone glistened a stark white against the black blood dribbling down his side. Syra begged her lungs not to breathe. Like a pungent perfume, the fumes filled the garden with the scent of smoke, blood, and the sickening undertone of fear.

  Smoke and screeching poured from Marrak's throat and his head lulled as he stumbled about as if rabid. His eyes darted around him searching for the source of his pain, but his huge pupils strained to find their focus. Until they landed on Aidan, and Rimmel, and his fancy bow.

  He stalked forward, swaying and hobbling with head low and teeth bared and bleeding from the gashes that clawed half his face.

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  Syra forced a breath and heaved herself up on shaky legs, “No...stop.”

  How is he still up, and moving? She watched, frozen, as his bleeding slowed and smoke coated his wounds in ash. She snarled. I bet it’s that damn shard. Weaving the shadows themselves to heal him.

  Val...kriosaar

  The Erdrumic words for 'shadow healer' shot through her mind, and her body went eerily still.

  Breathe. The familiar voice filled her head and warmed her chest, sending a rush of calm through her body. And call to him.

  Syra didn’t recognize the voice–not from memory. And yet it soothed her. Tender and sure, urging her on with the same steadiness as Cas or Petra. She recalled her mother’s visage–the voices in her memories–and her heart fluttered.

  Breathe, it repeated.

  But its tone was not her father’s, despite her aching it so.

  Who are you? She finally asked.

  It paused, as if holding its breath, and a sudden rush of warmth covered her entire body and threatened to steal tears from her eyes.

  I…am here. Was, and will be. Until all threads come undone.

  Her head reeled. Threads? What threads? You’re making no sen–

  A sudden sensation of deep knowing stilled her mind as she felt as if a gentle hand was placed on her head.

  It will. But now, you must call to him. Free him…and yourself.

  The image of shimmering threads flashed in her mind and her head drooped.

  Ah. I see, now.

  With a steady inhale, Syra let the forbidden words rumble deep in her throat.

  “Valkrios, stop.”

  The Erdrumic command echoed off the water and sent the ground buzzing. Marrak's chest glowed as his Name filled the air between them, and his body seized still. A pained whine hissed from his jaws left agape and quivering in defiance. Only his eyes turned themselves to gaze upon Syra's glowing chest and the shimmering thread wafting between them.

  Her chest ached. But with one look into his feral, bloodshot eyes, she knew. Pain had triumphed over reason. And this was their last shot.

  A quick glance at Aidan was all that was needed. She raised a glowing hand and in a flash of blue, Aidan sprung from the ground and sprinted towards Marrak, sword reared and blazing.

  Tears peaked at her eyes as Syra held Marrak’s gaze. She could feel his straining in her chest. Like a wounded skyray caught in a net.

  Aidan’s footfalls grew closer and her hand shook, but the golden light around it never wavered.

  A pained smile flickered on her face as her hand reached for the thread connecting them. “I loved you, you know. And I’m so…so sorry.” Tears flowed freely this time as her throat threatened to close. “I can’t be your fuzzlebug anymore.”

  The thread shone like starlight in the radiance of the descending blade, and time seemed to slow. Syra gazed down at the tiny sun pulsing just behind Marrak’s skin. She could feel its warmth radiating from the thread. She inhaled its comforting glow before tearing her eyes away.

  “Goodbye…Valen.”

  With a held breath, she latched both hands around the thread, and pulled.