forward, pushing past giant plum-colored leaves. This stream was smaller than the one she’d found before. Only several feet wide instead of several dozen. It glowed a pearlescent blue, the rocks at the bottom visible.
Risk’s lips parted as she came to a stop in front of it. Her magic had already searched for animals, but the ones that were near were tamable. Easy for her to master.
She didn’t sense the sleeping giants that had been near the water before.
Risk dropped onto all fours and dipped her hands into the stream. Water flowed over them, washing the dirt away. She cupped her fingers and lifted a tiny pool of it to her lips.
Bliss.
It overwhelmed her.
She drank and drank, and when there was no more, she cupped her hands and did it again.
It never occurred to her to stop.
She never wondered why it was this stream filled her with utter relief.
Not even as she tumbled into it in her haze.
The water rushed over her head, and part of her brain started to worry. But even as she choked, she drank. The water filled her with that bliss, drowning out all worries just as it drowned her.
Risk’s eyes started to close.
She felt herself falling once more, but this time it was into darkness. True darkness. A deceptive warmth wrapped around her that should have told her this wasn’t right.
The dark realm was cold.
Eternally frigid.
The last thing she should have felt was warmth.
But she did.
Soon the warmth started to ache, and then burn. It started in her chest and spread through her limbs like fire. Immense pain overwhelmed her.
Risk’s eyes flew open. Her body lurched upward as the water she’d drank tried to expel itself from her system. She gagged, spewing liquid everywhere that no longer looked beautiful and clean, but black and oily.
On the other side of the substance, two giant paws stood.
Risk bared her teeth at the creature even as dizziness threatened to take her. A pounding started in her head that was mirrored by the beat of her heart. Her eyelashes fluttered.
“Leave me,” Risk commanded, the words slurring from her lips.
She clenched her hands in the dirt, feeling it squish beneath her palms.
“Never,” came the reply.
Her eyes flew open for one long second.
The creature was almost twice her height. The body was shaped like a cat. Black fur the color of the void made it darker than any shadow. Its eyes were blue.
Brilliant, piercing, unnatural blue.
Just like hers.
Risk lifted one hand because that was the only action she had the strength to do.
The beast lowered its head. Its jaw was large enough to eat her arm in a single bite, but the creature didn’t attack her. It pressed its forehead into her palm.
A shock went through her, as if she’d been struck by lightning.
Her fingers tightened once more, this time feeling damp fur. A sound like thunder boomed through the sky, but it wasn’t a storm.
It was her familiar.
“Rainier,” she whispered.
A second one followed, and she felt a distinct trill of pleasure that was not her own. This creature knew her. It recognized Risk as hers by scent alone, and the bond between them solidified with a single touch.
“You cannot die,” the creature told her. “I have waited too long.”
“I’m weak,” Risk said, releasing a bitter laugh that rang hollow. “You chose wrong.”
“You’re strong. Stronger than all of them. So strong I could not find you because your magic was everywhere. Only now with it draining away could I see.”
Risk careened forward, but instead of landing in the puddle of bile, a wet nose held her up. She panted softly. Not understanding what was going on.
Even at her weakest in the temple, she’d never felt like this.
“You cannot die,” Rainier said again. “You must ascend.”
Her heart jumped. Risk moaned softly. A wet tongue lapped at her, and Risk fell to the side. Half of her face pressed into soft moss. The scents of dirt and magic and darkness swirled in the air around her, all while her heart thundered.
She was scared. So scared that this might be the end.
That she would truly never see Quinn again.
That she would never return to the Sirian continent.
That she would fail and doom all of her friends and only family.
“Ascend,” Rainier said again, repeating it over and over and over again in her mind.
Mazzulah had told her that she would not survive unless she found something to give her the will to live. Her fear of failure was not enough. It was failure that held