its limits, and would have suffered worse if she hadn’t left the battle once her armor broke.
Her mother would be able to restore such an injury, no doubt, but then they would all be in the unenviable position of explaining to Malice why they let a Monarch’s Overlady daughter face down a Dreadgod. If she recovered on her own, Malice need not be bothered.
Ziel had also pushed himself too far, but fortunately not beyond the restorative benefits of the Pure Storm Baptism. Eithan had performed the next stage—with his arms stiff as boards—and now Ziel slept with sparks of lightning madra playing through his spirit and over his body.
Orthos was perhaps in the worst shape, and his size couldn’t be reversed until he woke up and was provided with more soulfire. He hovered over a hill outside like a mid-sized Dreadgod himself, drifting on green cushions of life aura guided by a script. Everyone had donated life-aspected natural treasures to the effort, and now his flesh was knitting itself together at visible speed.
Even Yerin had not walked away unscathed, though she’d recovered before everyone but Lindon. Veins of bright red madra covered her body, replacing broken flesh, including a chunk of her hip. If she had to fight now, she could.
Instead of mocking Eithan, Yerin stood and looked to the door. “Scream if you need more coddling. I’m going after him.”
“You don’t think he needs some time alone right now?”
“Been more than a minute since he’s been alone at all.”
Physically, Lindon was fine. He was suffering some aftereffects from having Consumed too much of the Titan, but nothing he wouldn’t wrestle through.
Loss was harder to handle.
“Beings such as Dross don’t really die,” Eithan said. “…except under truly extraordinary circumstances.”
They could, however, change so drastically from damage like this that they came back with entirely different personalities. Which would not reassure Yerin, so Eithan didn’t say anything.
It wasn’t a guarantee, anyway. Perhaps Dross would recover and be perfectly healthy.
Eithan hoped so. He still had high hopes for Dross.
Yerin glanced at him as though she heard his unspoken thoughts. “Doesn’t mean he has an easy road to walk right now, does it? I’d contend he shouldn’t be finding his way on his own.”
“Nor will he have to,” Eithan agreed, “but sometimes you need time to yourself first.”
Her expression shifted subtly as she wrestled with herself, and Eithan could read the pain on her face. She knew he was right. She’d pushed through loss enough times herself.
While she was working to her own conclusion. Eithan left his bed. He didn’t have much control over his body, so he looked something like a turtle righting itself after landing on its shell.
When he finally stood stiffly on two thoroughly bandaged legs, he congratulated himself on the victory.
“Doesn’t count as alone if you pop out of the bushes,” she pointed out.
“I can lurk without popping out. Besides, I’m not going to Lindon.”
Yerin radiated such obvious skepticism that he thought he could see it in the vital aura.
“Lindon isn’t the only person in the world. I do sneak up on others occasionally.”
She gave his legs a pointed look. “You won’t be sneaking up on a deaf brick.”
“Ah, but you underestimate my legendary grace and agility.” Eithan hobbled across the ground, his every step clattering on the floor until it sounded like the return of the Wandering Titan.
He paused at the door. He had used up his soulfire to heal himself and perform the Baptism on Ziel.
“Would you mind helping me with the door, please?”
Without a word, Yerin pushed it open.
Somehow, Jai Chen found herself leading a procession of several hundred sacred artists. Most were much older, and none had any idea who she was.
She led by virtue of being the strongest sacred artist present, and because Mercy had told everyone to listen to her. They had been about two hundred strong then, but the last time Jai Chen extended her detection web, she’d counted almost twice that.
Mercy had also left her with a medicinal pill for her brother, and now it slowly revolved in his spirit, but he still hadn’t woken up.
Jai Chen hauled Jai Long behind herself on a stretcher that lay on a hovering construct. She’d been lucky to find that platform; at first, she had been dragging him over the uneven terrain, which couldn’t have been good for his recovery.
The further they pushed into the black trees, the more dreadbeasts they’d encountered. Most wouldn’t bother a group of their size, but some seemed to