The Forsaken - By L.A. Banks Page 0,119

Damali's voice. He'd lost the quiet connection to her, which made him panic further. Being the better man, sometimes, means pushing beyond one's own pain in quiet surrender. You will win if you lose. You will never win if you do not learn when to retreat.

Zehiradangra's voice was so gentle and soothing within his mind that it made his shoulders relax. His breathing deepened as she hummed the right pitch within a sound chord that he could mentally follow and he slowly saw her jewel-green eyes filled with empathy. He watched them glow with compassion and caring and friendship until the whole of Cain's silver burning mind was threaded with the deep, resonant hue. He could feel layers of Damali's harmony wind into the mind-melody and run through his body, making him shudder, then burn his hands hot, make his clothes stick to his skin, building like slow pressure inside his chest, filling his arms with a throbbing, dull ache that demanded release through his palms.

It hurt so bad, but hurt so good, as the she-dragon's voice coaxed him each time the fleeting sensation of energy expulsion slipped back up his arms, unable to connect with the steady stream of heat pouring out of Cain and Damali's hands. His arms felt like the skin on them was splitting and opening. Zehiradangra's voice shushed him to be still, to channel it through his palms and to not let it splatter to evaporate into wasted energy within the atmosphere around him.

He was about to give up when he felt her tongue lick down his shoulder, glide over his elbow, and caress each digit on his tightly clenched fist.

Right there, she whispered, just like it's your lover. Be one with the energy, and let it flow into the staff.

"I don't know how," Carlos whispered out loud, feeling Cain's massive fist tighten hard enough to crush the bones in his hand. Damali's pulse beneath his palm was a distraction and his arm was now almost so laden with energy that it felt nearly impossible to keep it extended.

"Strike him," Cain murmured. "He is not that evolved."

Before Carlos could drop his arm from fatigue or process Cain's command, a blinding dragon strike scored his jugular and released the pent-up energy in waves of color throughout his system in hard, pulsing jags. His eyelids fluttered, bright flashes in every hue singed his senses. He couldn't breathe. His hand was on fire. His arm shook as the muscles within it contracted and released in spasmodic jerks. Cain pulled the brunt of the unharnessed ejection and fused it with a gold-green spiked jolt; Damali received and mellowed it, then sent it into the staff in a smooth, steady stream.

Unable to move, Carlos could mentally see the staff light up, glow golden, then become deep crimson, and then finally go burning white. The serpents opened their mouths and screamed, quickly slithering in

opposite directions, leaping off the staff and catching energy rays in their mouths with their fangs to pull it down with them, connecting it as one unbroken thread of shimmer, as they instantly reunited with the searing rod. Green flames tore down the staff in a dizzying spiral and slammed into Marlene's chest. Her body arched, her throat wound sealed, her lips tore apart as a shriek pushed its way between them.

"Drop the Caduceus!" Cain shouted. "Link hands. Lower the pyramid!" The threesome worked on reflex motor skills, quickly clasping hands, creating a wide, green-glowing pyramid between their bodies that hung midair like a translucent shield above Marlene. They lowered it with Cain's guidance to slowly sweep over the surface of Marlene's prone body from head to toe. Once the energy stopped sputtering, Cain slowly released their hands and sat back on his haunches, winded. Damali fell back on the ground with her legs sprawled, breathing hard and staring at Marlene.

Carlos fell forward on his hands and knees, panting and watching Marlene's skin begin to knit and her nose rise out of the twisted flesh of her face. Soon her eyes separated from the morass of melted, scarred skin. Her lashes reappeared, but were pure white. Then her eyebrows surfaced slowly, one hair at a time--snow white. Her charred skin slowly returned to its ebony beauty... but her face was so old, so wrinkled, like that of a crone. Carlos looked away.

Cain moved forward and spread his hands over Marlene's face and slowly pulled them away as her eyes opened... then he closed his when her irises were

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