Page 109 of Daughter of the Drowned Empire

I jumped on Meera, screaming as I held down her hands, and attempted to get her legs to still and stop kicking.

One second, I had her, the next she’d flipped me over again. The air whooshed out of me as my back smacked the floor. Then she was over me.

Her hands were everywhere, scratching, clawing, and hitting while I burrowed deep into my mind, pulling out the trainings Rhyan had run me through. I ducked away from her attack, blocking each hit and managing to slide out from under her. For a moment, my mind cleared, all of my training from the past month clicking into place. Meera progressed forward in slow motion as I anticipated her next attack. Her eyes met mine, and the terror I felt at seeing her like this, at what it meant and the fact that Morgana had passed out from the pain, rushed back to me.

Meera gained the upper hand. I raced for her bed, jumping onto it and grabbing her blanket, then leaping back to the floor with it. She ran around the opposite side of the bed to meet me, fingers out like claws. I ran for her, covering her body with the blanket and pinning her to the floor. She couldn’t scratch at me anymore, but she could still hit and kick and scream.

“Meera!” I pulled the cover back. I had to see her face, make her see me. “Meera!”

And then she did. I checked the clocktower on her nightstand. Its white marbled base had been covered in paint. By my estimate of when it had started, she’d been in her vision for three quarters of an hour—more than double the longest of her previous visions.

I slid my golden cuff down my arm, pulling out the scroll I kept inside. A spare pen lay on Meera’s dresser, amongst discarded paintbrushes, and before she could stir, I logged in the data.

“Lyr?” Meera’s voice was scratchy and weak, but thank the Gods it was her own voice.

I hastily rolled and pushed the scroll back inside my cuff, my penmanship sloppy, and slid the golden bracelet back up my arm, trying not to wince. She’d scratched me all the way from my wrist to elbow.

“I’m right here,” I said. “Are you all right?”

I wrapped my arms around myself, starting to shake with the cold.

“Fine,” Meera said. In the corner, Morgana lay on the floor, still passed out. Her teeth began to chatter.

“Morgana?” I asked gently, crouching by her side. Another of Meera’s blankets had fallen on the floor in the struggle, and I pulled it over Morgana’s shoulders, carefully placing her stave on the night stand. I had only thirty minutes to return to the Katurium, and I'd only make it in time if I left that second.

I had to go. I had to leave. But I couldn’t until I knew both of my sisters would be all right. I rushed over to Meera’s sink, wetting a towel and handing it to her to wipe the blood from her face and arms. Then I crouched by Morgana.

Morgana? Morgana! Wake up!

She stirred beside me, moaning, her arm stretching forward, reaching for her stave.

“It’s on the nightstand,” I said.

“Give it to me,” she hissed.

I did. Whimpering, she sat up, shooting jagged blue sparks across the room. She conjured a tiny blue fire in a glass bowl by the window. A towel floated from the top shelf of Meera’s closet into the sink basin, which released steaming hot water. The towel came to Morgana, wrapping itself around her forehead.

“I burned your wrists,” she said groggily, looking to Meera.

“You didn’t mean to—”

“I’ll fix it. I’m sorry.”

“Help Lyr first. She….” Meera’s eyes registered the time. “She has clinic.”

“And the Imperator’s here, waiting for me.” I shook my head. “What can I do? What do you need?” I eyed my sisters. They looked like they’d been bound and beaten.

“Go,” Meera said. “Lyr, I’m all right now. And Morgana is fine, too. Go! We’ll take care of ourselves.”

Shakily, I got to my feet. “Are you sure?”

“Get out,” Morgana said, her voice cold. “Now. I’ll come by later. We’ll talk.”

I was already at the doorway, feeling empty, off-centered, and terrified. Those voices that had come from Meera’s mouth, those eyes—they hadn’t been the effects of a normal vision. It was like something else had come through her, possessed her.

Was this it? Was it the madness, come for her already? The scrolls I read all said it eventually would, that anyone with visions would eventually be farther than Lethea, drowning deep in an endless pit of insanity. It was the same madness that drove one mage to butcher Tristan’s parents right in front of him.

Morgana shook her head, reading my every thought. “You don’t know that, and you’re still standing here. Go!”