"Tin," Eni whispered, barely able to hear herself over the furious gusts of wind that swept across the mountain and ruffled her robes.
Her voice was as numb as her body, chilled in a way beyond the bite of the air, and she stared desperately into the wolf's face as she blinked away her tears. Her eyes were suddenly dry, like two burning marbles set into her skull, although she desperately wished she was still blinded.
Tin almost looked as though he was sleeping, his eyes closed and his features relaxed into an expression of contentment. He was more peaceful than Eni had ever seen him, his body heavy on her lap as his slick fingers slipped through her own.
She grabbed for his paw as she lost her grip, holding him close as she buried her head against the base of his neck. His mane was soft and yet prickly, filling her nose with the wild scent of his musk, but there was something missing, some nuance she didn't have a word for. Tin would know it; he could describe any smell, his own sense far beyond her own, and the question almost came to her lips before the crushing realization hit her.
He would never answer anything again.
She would never again see his irritation at a topic he wanted to avoid or his rare pleasure at something that caught his interest. He would no longer fumble over his words, groping for an explanation just beyond his ability to conceptualize. All that was left of him was what remained etched in her mind, and she squeezed him tight, breathing in his unmistakable aroma. The word came to her suddenly, flashing through her mind as her arms trembled.
Vitality.
That was what was gone, something that she never would have said had a scent. But it did, something as rich and as lush as the green buds of a maple tree in spring that brought with them the promise of life. Eni wept, her ears roaring with emptiness, a perfect void of sound trying to push its way into her head. The only noises Tin made were small and terrible, his cooling blood splashing against the stone underneath her and his fur whispering softly as it brushed against hers.
She could almost hear words and she lunged for them, reaching for anything but the awful truth cradled in her arms. Tin was all she could feel, all she could sense, and she didn't want anything more. The outside world was meaningless, a mere distraction, and she pushed it aside as she focused her power on Tin.
Her own heart hammered wildly, its beat a hateful echo of what should have been there but no longer was, and she ignored it, blotting it out as she pressed her fingers against the side of Tin's face.
Doesn't matter.
She heard the words he spoke when he had first tried teaching her mentalism. The memory tasted bitter, a cold reminder of her own inadequacy. Eni had been so concerned about positioning her paws just so, about following the forms precisely the way she would if she was painting calligraphy. She wondered dimly if the opposite had bothered Tin, if he found the rules of writing too rigid compared to the unbridled fluidity of magic. It was another question she could no longer ask, and Eni set it aside. The act felt like tearing off a piece of herself, of giving something up that she could never reclaim, but she had to.
Something undeniable drove her on, her power surging as she felt for a spark she knew wouldn't be there. It was as futile as trying to pass through a door without opening it, but she couldn't yield even in the face of an incontrovertible truth. Tin was limp and still in her arms, but she looked beyond his physical form, straining every sense as—
Power answered her.
It was like watching the sun rise on a winter morning, warm rays pressing against her. Relief filled Eni, her entire body relaxing as she felt Tin's presence fill her. He was incandescent in her mind's eye, blazing with a luminosity too brilliant to be contained, and she couldn't even make out the shape of him. His strength coursed through her, as sharp and as sudden as a bolt of lightning, and she opened her mind to his, reaching out as she would if he was drowning. She could see him, his limbs unmoving as he bobbed up and down, and she called for him. Waves battered her, crashing against her and pushing her back, but she refused to move, planting herself like a spire of rock, and her fingers of power closed around him.
Giddy excitement filled her, a new and wonderful certainty replacing the one that had taken her over only moments before. He was not gone, he was not beyond reach, and she strained as hard as she could even as a sea raged around her.
The water was cold and furious, capped with brilliantly white foam and churning as intensely as any onami, and Eni's head was filled with the sound of it. The ocean was alive, its motion the beating of the heart of a creature of incredible size and power, and by comparison she and Tin were nothing. The sky overhead darkened, swirling with raging clouds the color of lead, and cracks of thunder split the air.
Tin retained his brilliance, a beacon brighter and more welcoming than any lighthouse, and Eni stretched herself to her limits, grabbing on and pulling hard. Her mind throbbed with the effort, her very being trembling with it as she tightened her grip, and she braced herself for the coming storm of touching his mind directly. She knew it would make anything else pale by comparison, that the full extent of his being was beyond comparison, and she concentrated fiercely. Eni touched her thoughts and her very essence to Tin, calling out for him to respond. "Tin!" she cried, his name on her tongue and in her head, vibrating and pulsing with the strength of her effort, "I'm here!"
I'm here.
Her words came flatly back to her, spoken in her own voice, and Eni sagged as she realized what she was hearing with every fiber of her being. She called out again, even more fiercely than she had the first time, and the response was no different. Eni shook with exertion, feeling the surf threatening to overwhelm her as she forced herself to remain planted as she reached for Tin, and gave a scream of pure emotion.
Her vision trembled and distorted, the view of the ocean fading, but Tin's body remained, sprawled motionless against bare rocks. Eni collapsed, all the strength gone from her arms and legs, and as she watched Tin's still face she could no longer deny what had filled her ears.
It had been nothing but an echo.
Everything that had made Tin vital, that had filled him with life, was gone. All that was left was his power, a flat impression no better than a shadow. His memories might still swirl about in his head, but even those would be fading, stripped of color and nuance as his theurgy evaporated. Eni wept, the tears as cold as ice against her cheeks, watching in miserable silence as snowflakes drifted across the stone platform.
They dissolved into mist around the edges, evaporated by the fiery heart of the volcano, and everything took on a dully red-orange glow as the light diffused through the vapor. The warmth made Tin look like the subject of a painting, burnished with a fiery essence, but the snowflakes that descended upon him didn't melt like the ones landing on Eni. They salted the iridescent blackness of his fur, as brilliant as gems, slowly blurring the outlines of his limbs.
Eni didn't know how she had been separated from Tin; he was at least ten feet away, the distance looming like an eternity as she tried to stand. She couldn't manage it, her legs wobbling, and so she started crawling forward.
The ground under her was bitterly cold, her fingers going almost completely numb. She could barely feel the hard stone as powdery snow built up, but she forced herself onward. Her vision doubled, duplicating Tin as her head swam with exhaustion and grief. Eni shivered, her progress painfully slow, but there was no denying what waited for her.
Tin was almost completely covered, little more than a white mound, but she made it forward another foot as her chest heaved with exertion. Eni slipped, striking her chin against the painfully hard rock underneath the soft cushion of snow, and blearily gazed upwards as stars danced before her. Neira was there, hanging above her like a dismal storm cloud, the gleaming flakes seeming to come from her powerful wings. The dragon's face was sharp and watchful, her eyes compassionless as they stared back into Eni's.
She dragged herself forward another six inches, her entire body feeling as heavy as a castle. "No," she croaked, her voice not even a whisper, "Not going to… trick me."
A mad smile split her face, her sluggish heart filling with something like triumph as she looked at the enormous dragon overhead. "Another trick," Eni managed, her tongue feeling large and clumsy in her mouth, "Not going to… It's not…"
She swallowed hard, her throat so dry that it was like rubbing sandpaper against itself. "Sorry, Tin," she said, looking away from Neira and back at the snow-covered wolf, "I shouldn't have… Let her fool me."
"You only fool yourself, leveret."
Neira's voice was a spear through Eni's mind, painfully sharp and strong compared to what she could manage, but she shook her head. "No," Eni said, but it was getting hard to speak.
She couldn't feel her legs anymore, but that didn't seem to merit anything more than vague concern, as though she was hearing about the affairs of a distant neighbor. Her vision throbbed in time with her heart, everything going first bright and then dark as it maintained a slow beat. "None of this is real," Eni said, "Can't be."
With supreme effort, Eni managed to raise herself up just enough to point accusingly at the dragon. Or at least, enough to try; her arm didn't quite seem able to do what she wanted, her gesture clumsy and imprecise. "Said it yourself," she mumbled, darkness swirling around her as the brilliant colors of the lava grayed out, "Can't kill a dragon. Said Tin has a Dracryst. So you couldn't… you can't have…"
"The wolf you knew is gone."
Neira's voice was insidious as she went on, the words slithering like serpents through Eni's mind. Eni wanted to deny it, but the horribly immobile form of Tin before her was impossibly real. "You've always known it would come to this," Neira continued, "Ever since you first rejected your senses, you have felt this coming."
Eni's mouth worked wordlessly, her thoughts a confused jumble. "Cold. Alone," Neira said, her voice as frigid as their surroundings, "Despairing as you wandered the world."
The air pulled at Eni, every breath a slow torment. She could feel her lungs freezing, barely able to fill them, and she wheezed as she tried to find her voice to defy Neira. "Abraxas's mad wanderings were his beginning, not his end," the dragon went on, "The same may yet be true for you."
Eni shivered as she shook her head, her mind as numb as her body. "Power cannot be locked away, leveret. Not forever," Neira said, "You need me."
"No," Eni replied, her voice shaky and weak, "Tin—"
"Lied," Neira interrupted, and then a thoughtful frown crossed her face, "Ah, you hadn't noticed."
Her eyes seemed bitter as she considered Eni, but she barely noticed. An icy fist seemed to be clenching her stomach, a slow and nauseating feeling coming over her as she realized the dragon was telling the truth. "He tried to spare you, but you can feel it now," Neira said, "His strength was always there for him, waiting only to be tapped if he chose to."
"Because of me," Eni whispered, frozen trails working their way down her face, "He…"
"He feared hurting you," Neira said, the words simultaneously soothing and vicious, "The Slayer died to keep you safe; all that is left is for you to decide how to honor his sacrifice. Will you throw yourself against me, leveret? Will you turn away and continue to search the world for something you cannot find?"
The dragon paused, fixed in the sky above Eni as the wind howled mournfully past her wings. "Or will you accept what I have to offer you?" Neira asked, her voice falling to a hypnotic whisper.
The impact was still incredible, the offer searing through Eni's head. A world of possibilities swam before her, Derkomai sigils etching themselves into her. "The Slayer you knew could never be anything but a disappointment," Neira went on, "Too rigid and set in his ways when you met him, scarred by his own choices and fearful of his own abilities."
Eni wanted to protest, but she couldn't, the words undeniable in their truth. The dragon's pupils were fixed on Eni's own as she went on, ideas blooming in her head like the first flowers of spring. "There can be another Slayer," Neira said, and the concept seized her like a shackle.
A hare filled her mind, tall as only an Aberrant could be, and wearing an elegant whip-sword made of a fathomless black metal as a belt. The figure was clad in a cloak of fine silk the color of fresh snow, impossibly pure and glowing in the light of dawn. The hare was walking through a grassy plain, shockingly green and vivid, and alive with a gentle breeze. The clouds overhead were small and puffy, concealing neither the sun nor a sky the same color as Tin's eyes.
The same color as the hare's eyes.
He was perfect, his features masculine and his body lithely muscular under his clothes. His ears were long and scalloped, trailing down his back and nearly reaching his cotton fluff of a tail. His fur was almost entirely an absolute black, from the shock of it atop his head that ran like a mane down his neck to his exposed paws, but with contrasting white under his short muzzle. The hare walked easily and with complete confidence, his every motion as graceful as a dancer's, and at his side Eni saw herself.
"I'm not going too fast for you, am I mother?" he asked, his voice a rich and almost musical baritone.
His eyes were soft with affection, but there was still an undeniable strength and sharpness to him, an awareness that made it seem as though nothing could escape his senses. Eni saw herself laugh, swatting at the hare's head with playfully feigned irritation. Her double was dressed in robes the equal of the Slayer's own, using a familiar gnarled wooden staff as a walking stick.
Longing overcame Eni as she watched the pair, her arm outstretched as they passed. Her heart was as full as her eyes, and when she had blinked away her tears they were gone. The field and the inviting sky had disappeared with them, leaving only a frozen expanse of rock below her and a dragon above. "It can be yours," Neira said softly, "He was born a wolf when a mortal accepted his Dracryst into her. I offer the same opportunity to you, and more. I will teach you the secrets of magic no one else can, empower you to be my champion in a world remade to your liking."
"Tin," Eni managed, and Neira smiled gently.
"Bettered," she said, "Unburdened by the memories and failures of this life. With my guidance, you'll mold him into the hero you wished him to be. There is more to my Kidu than the All-King or the Slayer you knew. Swear me your fealty and you shall never taste disappointment again."
As she lay there, her cheek pressed against the ground, Eni could feel Neira's words as much as she heard them. The pressure was incredible, pinning her flat, and she couldn't move. Everything spun around her, her vision swimming in and out of focus, and she gave her answer.
"No."
Neira said nothing, a silent phantom above her. The snow-covered rock beneath Eni stretched on to infinity, and above her the dragon's wings grew until they were all encompassing, blotting everything else out. The faded colors of the world vanished entirely, plunging Eni into absolute darkness.
Tin was gone.
Had he ever been there? Eni tried to crawl toward where she had last seen him, but it was pointless. There was nothing ahead of her but more of what she had left behind, nothing but a yawning emptiness. Her clothes were tattered rags, completely incapable of blocking the bitter chill of the endless winter. It would go on forever, her own personal torment.
Even his echo had long since faded, the power that had been his callously absorbed by her torturer. Eni longed for even that scrap of her companion, for the weak reminder that was still better than all the time she had spent alone. "Have you reconsidered?"
Neira's voice was a part of it. One of the worst, a cloud of failure that always asked the same cruel question. It must have been months since the dragon had last appeared. Years, perhaps, but Eni had lost all sense of time. The sun had disappeared with Tin, leaving only an inky void in the sky that carried no warmth or light. Even the stars had grown feeble, nothing more than grayish pinpricks.
Neira's eyes were the only spots of color left in all the Mother's creation, the same icy blue as Tin's. Had they always been that color? Eni couldn't remember, but her heart still broke each time they met hers. There was always the thrill of recognition, the sense that he had returned, followed by a disappointment too crushing for words. It was an agony Eni knew would end only when she was too crushed to feel anything but dread when the familiar hue appeared above her, and she swallowed.
She didn't answer at first, lacking even the strength to pull herself forward another inch. She was sprawled across the harsh rock, the snow beneath her hard packed and as sharp as a knife. Eni blinked blearily, barely able to keep her eyelids open. "I…" Eni whispered, her head flopping to the side as she stared at the infinite wasteland that stretched before her.
"To wield magic is to fulfil a wish," Neira said, her words cruelly sharp, "But a wish fulfilled alone is only a waking dream. Have you reconsidered?"
The monotonous terrain glowed an unearthly blue, lit only by the hateful glow of Neira's eyes. Giving in would be easy, easier by far than continuing on. And for what? Eni tried to remember what had driven her in the years since Tin—since she had been alone again. There were no teachers left to find, not any that could show her what she needed. She groped for what that had been, but her thoughts were too hard to make out. The whispering voice of her power never left anymore, a continuous babble always at the back of her head.
Accept.
The word came to her as though it had left her own tongue, throbbing with urgency and authority. It echoed in a male voice, a hare repeating her. Eni wavered, everything seeming to slowly spin around her. Denying a dragon was madness, an invitation to worse suffering, and Neira had… Eni's mind drifted away from her, the memory lost as her magic screamed at her.
Accept!
It came to her again, a lion’s throat adding to its force as he spoke. What had Neira done each time she had turned her down? She knew it had been awful, a suffering beyond imagining, and yet she couldn't recall anything. All that was left was an aching gap in her heart, a missing piece that had gone unfilled for much too long. Eni licked her lips, which were as numb as the rest of her body. A desperate resignation descended over her as her eyes slowly met Neira's, too exhausted even to tremble with fear. "I…" she began again, the dragon's gaze swallowing her as she went on, and—
"Eni!" a familiar voice cried, and she smiled as she tried to push herself to her feet.
"No, no, my dear, please don't get up on my behalf," her guest said warmly as he shuffled into her office, motioning for her to stay seated behind her desk.
He beamed at her, smiling as he went on. "I daresay that these days I have an easier time getting around than you."
The Archivist's eyes twinkled behind his spectacles, and Eni allowed herself to sink back into her chair, trying not to groan with the effort. She sighed, placing one paw across the great swell of her belly. "For a few more days, at least," she said, feeling the motion of the small life growing within her.
So near the end of her pregnancy, her son's heartbeat was a constant presence in her ears, a low and steady thrumming sound that she found unbelievably soothing. At night she would fall asleep to it, the last thing she was aware of before dozing off and the first to fill her awareness each morning.
"Speaking of which, are you sure you don't mind filling in for a bit?" Eni asked, shuffling her papers together as she regarded her old mentor.
The old markhor chuckled, and despite his claim his arms wavered slightly as he eased himself into the seat before her. He was thinner and grayer than he had ever been, age having turned what little fat he had once had into tough sinew. He bore a puckered scar across his chin, a thin line where his beard had never grown back, and he still refused to give into vanity and cap his chipped left horn. Otherwise, there was no sign of what he had gone through when the Terraces had collapsed atop him, his injuries totally healed.
Or so it seemed, at least.
"You deserve as much time with your child as you desire, Mistress Archivist," he said, his tone even and pleasant.
Eni felt her ears flush as she waved her title away with one paw. "I don't know if it'll ever feel right to hear you call me that," she said, and he smiled faintly.
"Or for you to say my name?" he asked, "Unless my memory is failing me, I don't believe I've ever heard you call me Kurlan."
"There's nothing wrong with your memory," Eni replied, "It's just…"
She trailed off, unable to find the right words. She brought her fingers up to the badge of office she wore, running them across the cool metal as she tried to think of what to say. "You're my teacher," she finished, "And I don't just mean when I was still a student of the university. Even now, you… you still teach me."
"Those are some of the kindest words anyone has ever spoken to me," Arctus replied, "And, if I may be so bold, a sign of your wisdom. The true student never stops learning."
"I—"
"Mistress Archivist!" a new voice interrupted, the door to her office flying open as an eager young deer poked her head in, "They're ready for you, ma'am."
Eni nodded briskly, firmly planting her palms atop her desk and pushing herself upright. Her mentor had greater difficulty, leaning heavily on the simple wooden stick he had taken to using as a replacement for the one he had given her, but at last they were making their way into the hallway. She waddled after her adjutant, who was setting a slow and gentle pace to the nearest lift.
The corridor lacked grandeur, the walls plain and simple without any decoration, but that was no matter. Embellishments would come later; there was still far too much work to do. The lift operator nodded at both her and Arctus as they stepped aboard, the ferret tipping his head at each of them in turn. "Mistress Archivist, Archivist Emeritus, Adjutant," Relin said, and then fell into a respectful silence without so much as a single tired joke.
Eni waited until she felt the familiar sensation in the pit of her stomach as the carriage went into motion, relishing the brief moment of increased weight that brought her son comfortingly closer in her gravid belly, and then turned to her mentor. "I can't thank you enough… sir," she said, not quite able to bring herself to speak his name, and he gripped her paw between his gnarled fingers.
"I should be the one saying so, Eni," he replied.
"We all feel that way, Mistress," Relin interjected, the little ferret's eyes bright as he looked up at her.
The reverence she saw made her feel a trifle uneasy, no matter how often she saw it, and she still never knew the right answer to give. Eni's adjutant coughed delicately, glancing at the lift operator, and he squirmed momentarily before straightening. "So, uh, it can't be long now!" he said, changing topics gracelessly as he gestured at the front of her robes, "Have you decided on a name yet? I know how difficult that can be, let me tell you. I remember when my second daughter was born, why, you wouldn't believe what we went through."
He babbled on, cheerfully monologuing about first his daughter and then all his other children in turn, but Eni was only half-listening, turning the question he had asked over in her head. She hadn't decided on a name for her son, not yet. Eni knew he would be a son; she could feel it in every fiber of her being, in the way his unformed thoughts pressed gently against hers sometimes, but there was more than that.
Neira had promised.
Eni was certain her child would be everything the dragon had claimed, the same essence that had given Tin life reborn from her body. The idea filled her with a powerful melancholy, sometimes strong enough to bring unbidden tears to her eyes as she worked at her desk, but it wasn't unwelcome. When she lowered herself into a warm bath at the end of the day, feeling the water wash over her aching form, it was almost a relief. Sometimes she would look at her formerly flat stomach and marvel at what would be coming, at the miracle she had been given.
Her body had changed slowly over the course of her pregnancy, her hips thickening as her breasts and belly swelled, but she wondered if the greatest changes had been the ones she couldn't see. There was an obvious choice for a name, one that brought with it a bittersweet flood of memories, and yet…
His absence hurt less every day. It shouldn't have been possible; her despair had felt so fresh and raw in the moment that she had been sure it would never end. Time had blunted it, filing off its sharp edges, and Eni could only imagine why. Neira's voice had been soothing when she had dared to ask for the first time, and the dragon's answer had been simple.
Mortal grief is itself mortal.
She sometimes went back to the words, unable to deny their truth, but Eni had no idea what to do with them. Perhaps her son's birth would be the final bit of closure she needed, the wound at last healing, but…
The wind blew furiously as they at last stepped off the lift atop what was currently a roof, so high above the ground that the air almost felt thin. Eni planted her staff firmly against the floor as her robes ruffled and flapped, threatening to bowl her over. Her adjutant offered Eni an arm for support, but she gestured for the deer to assist her mentor instead. The old markhor gamely kept up, stooped against the heavy gusts, and they made their way over to the edge.
The adjutant averted her eyes, looking down at her feet and the solid ground that she stood on, but Eni didn't. The view was too wonderful to ignore, Terregor spread beneath them like a dazzling treasure. Like the Archivist, the city still bore its scars; there were gaps filled only by lapping waves where entire blocks ought to have stood. Here and there empty foundations poked above the water, the buildings they had supported gone. Eni didn't focus on the destruction, not when the signs of rebuilding were so obvious. Scaffolds and cranes had sprouted like gaunt flowers, blocks of stone that looked like an infant's toys waiting on barges.
Eni smiled at the thought, some vague anxiety receding from her mind as she cradled her abdomen. She felt a kick and wondered what he would one day build, shaking her head to clear it as she spread out her arms. The wind pushed against her, but as she let trickles of her power flow out it was like an embrace. It was no threat, just a part of the world like any other, and she squeezed her eyes shut as she focused.
What she had seen felt etched onto the insides of her eyelids, and she remembered the many boats plying the canals. Most of them were stacked neatly with freshly quarried stone and newly hewn lumber, but some were not. Some were covered with what looked like waste, cracked bits of rock slimy with algae lumped awkwardly together. Eni saw them, letting her magic caress each one until they were as familiar as her own paw, and then she spoke.
"Remember where you belong."
She spoke the words firmly, the sibilant Derkomai syllables escaping her throat with perfect conviction. The sigils burned inside her, chiming with her exertion, and she felt the stones begin to move. They floated effortlessly upwards to where she stood, two-thirds of the way up what would be the Terraces of Gorin once more, and fell into place with only the slightest whisper of motion.
Stones flowed and merged back together, lost pieces finding their fellows, and the sounds grew dimmer as thick walls set themselves back into place, another floor of the mighty tower rebuilding itself. Eni was trembling with the effort, her head throbbing with the power singing through her, and she gritted her teeth. She was panting for breath as the ceiling formed above them, and when she opened her eyes her adjutant had her hooves wrapped around her shoulders.
The tall deer was looking down at her, concern written across her face, and Eni offered her a casual smile. "I'll be fine, thank you," she said, but the adjutant still led her over to a chair and gently helped her into it.
"That was quite a display, Mistress," the deer said, glancing about, and Eni puffed for breath as she did the same.
She still lacked the skill to restore the Terraces to exactly how they had been; trying to dredge up the books and the carpets and the decorations was beyond her. Her best left the newly completed floor yawningly empty, nothing but bare stone with no trace of what had once been there. It was a start, though, and Neira had said Eni would only improve with time.
"Very impressive indeed," Arctus said, "I must confess, with no walls my old bones found it rather cold."
Cold.
Always cold.
Eni shivered, her vision suddenly swimming as it doubled. For an instant, she was both sitting down and sprawled on her side, her arms and legs duplicated in an impossible way. Her stomach churned as it tried to make sense of which direction was up, her lungs filled with both the pleasantly crisp air of early fall and the biting chill of midwinter. The Archivist was before her and he was not, a room and an empty plain stretching before her. "Kurlan!" she blurted, and even her voice was wrong, filled with hearty strength and reduced to a bare whisper.
"What is it, Eni?" he asked, the words coming in and out of focus.
He was a fading wraith, the old markhor's body transparent as a wasteland formed, and Eni grabbed at him with her mind. She was falling apart, her thoughts breaking into chaos, and she reached at the only question that made sense in both frames of reference.
"What would Tin want?"
Her mentor regarded her curiously, stroking at his beard even as he too broke apart. He was dissolving into snow, a swirling haze no more solid than a morning fog. "He," the Archivist began, a cruel gust of wind threatening to steal his words as it knifed through him, "We fell so you would not."
He rippled dreamily, like an image in a pond, and then went on. “Remember,” he said, “Like you promised.”
He might have had more to say, but then he vanished, torn into disparate snowflakes by a chilling gale. The tower was gone, Eni's belly flat with hunger under her tattered clothes, and every ounce of warmth had left her.
"Yes," Eni said slowly, and she reached out with one paw.
She barely felt her claws digging into her palm as she seized her staff, the throbbing of the cuts she made drowned by numbness. Eni turned her wrist, planting one end of the stick against the icy void, and pushed herself upright. The wind ripped at her, her feet skittering as she desperately maneuvered with her staff, and then a furious strength came into her.
She lifted the stick off the ground and she did not fall. She brought it down sharply on one knee, the ancient wood shattering into pieces, and still she stood, panting with effort as she threw the remnants away. It was nothing but a cheap trick and she had no use of it, the staff only a distraction. Eni drew herself up to her full height, her power singing through her veins, and her robes rippled and shifted as she locked eyes with Neira.
The dragon was still overhead, Tin's body entombed in its frigid prison before her, and the air howled with an incredible pressure as Eni brought her palms together. Her fingers were clumsy and stiff but it didn't matter, each one bending into just the right position as she focused every ounce of her effort into her breathing. She would no longer run, not away from the dragon or into the fantasy she offered, and Eni felt her breath become one with the world as her magic grabbed on. A warm glow was building inside of her, pushing the cold away as it crackled through her, and a light she could feel but not see was taking shape. She strode forward, planting her feet more firmly, and there was nothing to fight against.
The wind was silenced.
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