“Blood magics have been outlawed for centuries throughout the world. The ban spans a tremendous number of fields, from curses to necromancy to the more generally defined dark arts. Such magics have largely been lost anyway, as their few practitioners were either hunted, killed by their own creations, or died of backlash from their spells.”

~ Bek Trent, M.A.S.O

Biarn. Dear, mischievous, brave Biarn. The pup had saved her life. Some things could not be repaid, and yet Silver wanted to. She wanted to so badly. And the magic poured out of her before she understood what she was doing. Beneath her palm, his breathing was fast and shallow. In the moment that she had glimpsed his bloodied face, she had seen that his dark lips were as pale as snow.

Tears choked her, along with memories of the many times Biarn’s red-eyed gaze had fallen on her, bright and expectant, excited and awed. How many more people would she lose? How many beasts? How many more precious lives would the Zara steal from her?

My world is not like this…she thought desperately, magic is not like this, not this cruel.

The liquid pooling of her magic in her fingertips, both hot and cold at once, brought beads of sweat to her forehead. There was so little she understood of anatomy, and she remembered what Bek had told her about healing; it was one of the few arts in magic that relied heavily on knowledge. Even then, it was limited simply because people’s understanding of the body itself was limited.

Silver forged ahead anyway, grasping at everything she sensed was wrong, everything broken, everything out of place. Yet all the time, the tree wolf was slipping away.

She could feel him dying.

My world is not so cruel…

Her mind rebelled. She could have let him go, and in the past, she might have. Weeks ago, before everything had started to fall uncontrollably into a state of chaos and uncertainty. Impossible was impossible. Every fiber of her being screamed that she should stop. But if Biarn died…if she let him go now, she would never forgive herself.

As long as she still had more to give, she would give it to him.

As if from a distance, she felt herself lurch forward. Biarn’s heartbeat was heavy in her ears. His ragged breathing was louder than the roar of the Zara in her memory, the rise and fall of his chest more violent than the turbulent waters of the river when its icy waves stole over her. The world outside of her had faded long ago when she closed her eyes to focus, and now it was as if she saw the blood flowing within his veins, and she flowed with it. She could feel Biarn’s terrible pain as sharply as if it were her own. Every stab of agony within his starved lungs twisted like a hot brand in her chest.

Conscious thought left her.

In that instant, she saw and knew only what was before her. She could not remember how to breathe. Her body was sore and burning with fire like she had never known. Her mouth opened to scream for help, and nothing came out but a ragged gasp. Her breath was too shallow and fast, and it was coming too hard.

But the pain was fading, ever so slightly. The fire was slowly cooling, until it was only a smoldering in her muscles and joints. Somehow, that sent fresh panic through her. Pain was her world. Without it, she floated in limbo, neither living nor dead, grasping at consciousness like a blind man searching for the sun.

Then she stood, suddenly, no longer within the young tree wolf’s body, where she had seen the failing of its life, but within her own, in the place where she first saw her magic. There was darkness all around, except where she saw the light before her. Again, the vast silver gates, chained shut and casting a gentle glow through the darkness. This time, there was no hurry. No anger. She simply stood, staring, unable to make a sound. Only moments ago, she had raged at these gates. They had looked to her like a barrier, unsurpassable. Now, she saw them differently.

What if she stood on the outside for a reason? What if these gates protected her from a magic she had never known? The more she stared, the more she thought that she should never touch those gates. They should remain just as they were, and she should turn and walk back into the darkness of her soul without ever touching her power again.

But that would not save Biarn.

She took a hesitant step forward, pressing her hands against what she expected to be cold metal, but found to be searing hot. Still, in this dream world, it could not burn her skin, even if she could imagine pain. She took another step, wrapping her hands around the metal bars and beginning to pull. Then she was leaning back, feeling the heat of the magic pressing against her as the gates buckled and the chain holding them strained against her. Whatever pain I might feel, or however weary I may become, I’m still alive. While that is true, I can’t believe in the possibility of failure, she whispered to herself, hoping that she could believe in her own words.

More desperately, Silver threw herself backwards again, hands wrapped firmly around the silver gate, feet digging into the nothingness as if it were solid earth…and it was solid, because she imagined that it was. The metal was straining and creaking with the pressure, because she imagined that it should, and then the metal links of the chain were stretching. They had no seam to break. She strained harder, throwing herself backwards time and again, afraid because she should be sweating, but there was no such thing as physical fatigue in her own mind.

Suddenly, the links snapped, and the chain binding the gates slid off with a soft chink to vanish into the darkness at the base of the gate. She stopped, opened the gate just wide enough to insert one hand, and drew on the magic there.

Her pain lessened slightly, but her breathing had only grown faster. The darkness and gate were gone. She could feel the young tree wolf still slipping, still falling farther out of her reach, and she reached for him. Perhaps for an instant their souls touched. She felt his pain again, and she knew when it receded.

“Stay with me,” she whispered into the emptiness.

The world had grown silent. Outside, the snow still fell in torrents. Her lungs felt like someone had punched a hole in them and they could no longer hold her breath. Dimly, she was aware that her job was done. Biarn was safe.

Darkness. Where, where was the light? In the vast stretch of nothingness her eyes sought wildly for it, in all directions, yearning for its warmth. When at last they found it, they latched on, and then she remembered nothing more.