Page 202 of The Cradle of Ice

She knew there was no other choice. She opened herself fully, no longer denying the dark well at her core. She used its hunger as a force, pulling everything from Daal.

He cried out.

With the two of them merged together, it felt as if she weren’t just sucking the marrow out of him, but his bones, too. He slumped to his knees, but he still gripped her hand. She felt the pound of his heartbeat as if it were her own. Its rhythm grew erratic, his energy too weak to work that fist of muscle in his chest.

I can’t do this to you.

His answer was weak, one word, shining with the hope for that harmony to be restored—between his people and the panicked and grief-stricken above.

Must.

His grip slipped from hers. She tightened her fingers to hold him, while knowing it would kill him. The last of his energy swept into her, swirling down the dark well inside her, joining all the fire she had already drawn.

She pictured the watery churn of the nearby lake—and despaired.

I am that maelstrom.

Shiya shifted in her other grip. “Share this burden.”

Nyx knew, to create a strong enough beacon, the bronze woman would need Daal’s fire, too. She passed a stream of power through her palm to Shiya.

As Nyx gazed into that well inside her, watching the swirl of flames—spinning around and around—she realized a new truth, a possible hope.

For all of them.

We don’t need a beacon in the sky—we need a maelstrom.

And she knew how to create it.

Shiya’s earlier words inspired it.

Share this burden.

Nyx pulled the bronze woman closer. “Grab Daal’s hand, too. Like you’re holding mine.”

Shiya cocked a brow, curious, but she reached down to Daal’s slack arm and took his hand. He did not respond. His head hung low. His breathing was spasms.

With them all linked together, Nyx turned the sucking force of her dark well into an untapped power source. As Daal’s flame spun inside that vortex, she used that speed to cast fire into Shiya. Still, Nyx refused to let it linger there. She forced the fire through all that bronze and back to Daal’s other hand, returning it to him, enough to sustain him.

Around and around, Nyx flung that fire, whipping it faster, creating a maelstrom. She added her voice, humming it all stronger. Shiya carried it higher, stoking it with each pass. All their lifeforces and bridling energy swirled through all three of them.

Daal lifted his face, breathing stronger, his heart finding its rhythm again.

Still, Nyx drove that song, that energy, that force, until it could no longer be contained. She thrust it high, her voice sending it up, bolstered by Shiya. The golden, fiery maelstrom whipped into the sky. The strength of its pull was undeniable, powered by the gravity of that dark well inside her.

From across the skies, the insatiable pull of the maelstrom drew the shreds of the dark storm, gathering them back into some semblance of a whole. The maelstrom’s golden brilliance shed light into those desolate shadows.

Below, Nyx sang a promise to the sky—that grief could be healed, that horrors could be forgiven, that blame was not theirs.

She repeated Daal’s earlier words.

You are not corrupt.

She filled the skies with the memories of a harmonious past, showing them again, over and over, whipping it through the maelstrom, refusing to let them look away.

Throughout it all, she made another promise, knowing that the raash’ke would need more than memories of the past. They needed an anchor, something to hold them together long enough for that healing to happen. She sang that assurance into the sky, merging her voice with her dah’s once again.

I am here, right beside you.