Page 38 of The Enduring Universe (The Rages Trilogy #3)
AHILYA
Perhaps it was because she had already given so much of herself to the Virohi. Perhaps it was simply a natural function of overwriting.
In the end, it was not so hard.
Ahilya stood in a vast grassland and imagined a shield. The grass of memories—the lives of the Ecstatics—rose in a wall. Build, she thought, and an ethereal barrier grew around her, grass hardening into bark, keeping the force of what Darsh was doing back.
The Ecstatics’ memories solidified into recollections of strength. Images came to Ahilya of different people. Of a time when they had been Maze Architects and Junior Architects, keeping their ashrams afloat. Of a time when they had believed in themselves, and the sanctity of their purpose. Ahilya held onto this strength, building the barrier, keeping Darsh out. She pulled open the doors to her house, one after another, and allowed the consciousness of all these people to filter through to her like air, pulling them the same way she would pull Iravan into her forest.
Shadows flickered in the Etherium, then came rushing to stand next to her. Their silhouettes were recognizable, though they were wisps of smoke. Bipesh, Shayla, Ravi, Jyaishna, and all the others who lay fallen in the Garden—their minds opened to her in the Etherium, and they waited for her command.
Like an architect, Ahilya trajected, turning will and desire into actuality.
Resist, she thought. Wake.
Around her, black-clad Ecstatics started to stir. She gripped Naila’s hand, nudging her to open her eyes. The two of them stared as the Ecstatics blinked in the Garden, their eyes widening. An awe grew inside Ahilya, the recognition of the Ecstatics’ emotion. Black leached out of the Ecstatic’s eyes, and their skins returned to normal. Their bones healed, and one by one the dark cords connecting them to Darsh faded, glimmering away, so that soon Ahilya could see nothing but the broken assembly hall, and the staggering Ecstatics around her reviving themselves. The construction of the Garden continued to change, but instead of the destruction wrought by the duel, the same soft flow of dust churned in whirlpools.
Whatever Darsh had done, she was reversing it. The Ecstatics were reversing it, pulling themselves back together, even unto repairing their own bodies in an awe-inspiring, grotesque remaking.
Ahilya turned away from them. She silenced the sounds of bones clicking together, or cries and screams, as the Ecstatics reformed themselves. She could just glimpse Iravan, the terrified look in his eyes. She had done all she could to help him—taken the Ecstatics out of the equation. She would deal with the horrible implications of her power later.
For now, she willed Iravan to survive his fight.