Page 130 of Liminal

Pinpricks of doubt start to wash over me, but it’s too late. A sunburst blinds me, the pain ratcheting up to unbearable levels before I lose control of my limbs and slump forwards.

Breathe.Breathe.

I can’t pass out now. We’re so close. What if Kyrith stops because…

Despite my best efforts, I lose consciousness. When I come back to myself, there’s a jar of something astringent and herbal being waved under my nose. I gag, retching, as I fold myself in half in an attempt to get away.

“Did it work?” I mumble, trying to force my eyes to focus long enough to look at my abdomen. “Did it?—”

The sight before me short-circuits my brain. I don’t think it even really registers for two of the longest minutes of my life. I’ve gone mute.

I was right. I double checked every calculation. I triple checked. I don’t understand. What did I…?

“Do you want company, or would you rather I left you alone?” Kyrith asks, her voice tentative, like she’s not sure she should be speaking at all.

My mouth works, but no sound comes out.

Because it didn’t work.

Worse.

It’s gone more wrong than I ever thought possible.

“In advanced runeforms, it’s common for the designer to lay traps to prevent counter-spells,” Kyrith says, and even though she’s not saying anything I don’t already know, it sends a spark of anger jolting through me. “If we’d taken more time…”

The now-red rune across my heart is pulsing, a sure sign that it’s activated.

I know what this means. My family keeps meticulous records of everything relating to the Talcott Ensorcellment.

A year.

At most.

That’s the longest any Ó Rinn has gone once the curse runeform activates before they lose that which matters most.

I have less than three hundred and sixty-five days to figure this out. Worse, no one will come near me now. This is the arcanist equivalent of leprosy. The only person stupid enough to ignore the bright fecking warning lights all over my skin is Lambert, and he?—

“Leo?”

Her quiet voice stabs at my brain like needles. Some quiet, rational part of me knows that she’s not to blame, that she warned me, that she even asked if I wanted her to leave, and that I never answered. Unfortunately, that part can’t prevail against the tidal wave of pure fury currently lighting up my veins.

My limbs finally start working, and I snatch my things up from the table, deliberately keeping my mouth shut. If I open it right now, I’ll say something I’ll regret.

I need time. A humourless laugh escapes me at the thought.

Time. I had it before. Now…

“Leo, we can?—”

“No.”

“It’s not?—”

“I swear to magic, Kyrith, juststop.”

She shrinks back, all softness gone faster than I can blink, replaced with an eerie kind of blankness. The temperature, already chill, drops another three degrees.

“I’ll leave you, then.”