aim. Soon the room was glowing.
Alcander was already to the side when Kiora started swimming. Offering his hand, he pulled her up.
“Are you ready?”
“I hope so.” Stepping over to the Wings, she jumped as they flared in response to her mental request.
A picture came into view of an elaborate looking home, far greater than the humble homes she was used to in Meros, though smaller than a castle.
Alcander drew a sharp breath. “The Manor?”
“What is the . . .?” Kiora trailed off as the picture in the Wings zoomed in on the window, allowing them to see inside. Emane was trapped within bars that moved and hissed with magic. He lay on the floor, barely recognizable through the blisters and burns that covered his body. His face oozed liquid beneath his closed eyes. Kiora gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. Emane stirred, proving he was alive, but a moan of pain escaped his lips that nearly broke her heart.
“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no!” she shrieked, spinning away from the Wings and straight into Alcander’s chest. Sobbing, she buried her head as he slowly and cautiously wrapped his arms around her.
She heard Emane moan again behind her. “Make it stop,” she cried. Whirling on the Wings, she screamed, “Stop it!” before shoving her face back into Alcander’s chest.
The Wings immediately went black.
She took ragged, gasping breaths before pushing away from Alcander. Swiping the tears from her cheeks, she set her jaw. “Do you know where he is?”
Alcander’s face clouded. “Yes, but—”
“Come on.” Kiora grabbed his hand and pulled him to the exit. “We’re going now.”
He planted his feet, jerking his hand free. “Kiora, we need to prepare.”
“Did you see him?” she shouted. “We can’t just leave him. They’ll do it again, and again, and again.” Her knees wobbled and she dropped.
Alcander, moving faster than she would have thought possible, caught her before she slammed into the rock. She was shaking uncontrollably. “I can’t leave him there, I can’t, I can’t.” She repeated it over and over again, sinking deeper into despair. She was vaguely aware of Alcander running his hands over her hair, trying to soothe her. She moved from hysterics to complete numbness, releasing everything and retreating into nothingness. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her, allowing his touch to comfort her.
“Kiora,” Alcander finally said. She wouldn’t have responded, but his voice sounded so strained.
Blinking, she looked up at him. He was pale, even for him, his pupils small and constricted. Startled, she sat up. “What’s the matter?”
As she broke contact he relaxed a little, and then smiled grimly. “When you dump magic, you are a bit much to handle.”
She collapsed in on herself. “I’m sorry.”
“Kiora,” he said, his color returning to normal. “We will save Emane, but we have to prepare. You have no idea what we are up against.”
“And what is that?” she asked, struggling against her desire to retreat back into the numbness. It was so much easier there.
“I don’t even know myself,” he said. “There are rumors, stories. The Manor has some connection to the Shadow, so we can’t get much. Not through the Wings, and not from anyone who has been there . . . because no one ever comes back.”
She looked up slowly, her hair hanging in her face. “How can we prepare for something you don’t understand? If it will make no difference we should go now, before Dralazar has time—”
“No,” Alcander said sharply. “You can’t get so emotionally involved.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed quickly. Pushing herself to her feet, she stood over him. “I will always get emotionally involved, always. It is who I am, and that is what makes me different. If I didn’t get emotionally involved, I would have left this forsaken place as soon as I figured out how dire it was. I would have gone home, tried to put the gate back in place, and lived the rest of my life in peace. But I care, and I will always care, and it will always hurt.” Her eyes welled up again. “This,” she motioned to herself, “is your Solus, and you will not train the caring out of me.”
He stared at her for a long time before lowering his head. “You are right.”
“You are so calloused,” she said more gently. “I can’t become that.”
Pushing himself up, he said, “You won’t. If we are going to save Emane, we need to get started.” He turned and walked to the mouth of the river.
Feeling hope,