the bone.
Vikirnoff leapt to pull her back, but her voice protested in his mind. No! You cannot touch me. It is consuming me. It cannot take you, too, or I have no way back.
Swearing aloud he dropped his hands to his sides. It took every ounce of discipline he possessed to keep from yanking her into his arms. Breathing deep, ignoring the constant sound of the water booming and echoing through the chamber, he concentrated on holding Natalya's essence to him.
I can't do this. It burns, Vikirnoff. I can't think because of the pain.
He felt agony sweeping through her body, the wrenching at her bones and flesh, as if the ball drew her out of the world she inhabited and into the turbulence of the crystal globe itself. Setting his teeth, he took the brunt of the pain from her. Immediately his skin beaded with blood and it dripped from his brow into his eyes. You are both Carpathian and mage. You command the earth and the air and you are unusually strong. Get what you came for
and get out.
Natalya took a deep breath as the pain lessened. It was the confidence in his voice, the respect he afforded her, that allowed her to go beyond her physical body and reach for her mage training. Her body was nothing, a shell, no more than that. Her spirit was stronger than the whirling winds tearing at her flesh. She rose above the pain, above the terror and found her strength.
Colors swirled around her, midnight blues, glittering stars, streaks of light like comets trailing across the sky. Galaxies and star systems shot by her at a dizzying speed, twined together briefly and arced apart with a shower of sparks falling like rain. She found herself staring in wonder, in awe, aware the future lay in that direction. She could find a thread, one that was hers and follow it and know what was waiting. The temptation was strong. It was dazzlingly beautiful, impressive and the idea of knowing what lay ahead was difficult to resist.
Throughout the midnight blue sky lightning forked repeatedly, flashing like a neon sign, drawing her attention. She realized she was being pulled in that direction, her spirit traveling along one of the zigzagging threads. She pulled back. At once the draw fought with her, tugging and tugging, beguiling her with glimpses of her future. She steadfastly refused to look, instinctively fearing once pulled into the realm of the future, she might not find her way back. And what she sought could not possibly lie in that direction.
Ropes of various colored pearls whirled around her, carried by the power of the winds. One in particular caught her attention because of the unusual color, the same cloudy hues that glittered in her eyes when the tigress in her was rising toward the surface. She watched them even as she fought the strength of the wind. Her father had often compared her eyes to sea pearls.
Natalya reached for the strand that resembled the color of her tiger eyes. A turbulent vortex gripped her, sucked her into the whirling mass. Clutching the rope of pearls tightly, Natalya clung to the merge she held with Vikirnoff. He was her anchor and wherever her spirit traveled, he traveled with her holding guard over her physical body.
Scenes of battles rushed past her. Dark, ugly visions of blood and death. She wept, overcome with the useless deaths as men fought for religion or power or land. Natalya fought to keep from sliding farther into the vacuum of the past. Small, black shadows tugged at the edges of her spirit in an attempt to consume her. The voices of mages whose souls had been trapped in the endless cycle of the past wailed at her in warning, in sorrow.
She might have lost herself in the terrible pain of reliving so many deaths, seeing the mistakes made over and over throughout history, but Vikirnoff was always there, murmuring encouragement, holding her tightly without physical form.
Soren. She'd nearly missed him in all the history swirling around her, but there he was. Her father, tall and handsome with his black hair and vivid green eyes. Her heart turned
over and she reached for him. She couldn't touch him. Natalya realized she was looking at him through a reflection. He turned and her heart nearly stopped. He was ravaged and worn with pain. Burned on one side, encased in ice on the other. He had been tortured, yet kept alive, his blood