Moved by his grief, Dnara approached the bed, passing by the shut window. The two window panes shook in their wooden frame, a breeze knocking to be let in. Dnara eyed the window then looked to her bandaged hands, finally accepting the connection that had been weaving its way into her soul since the moment she fled her keeper’s tower.
“There is a price,” she said, resolute in what would come next. “But it is I who must pay it.”
“Dnara,” Athan made to protest, coming behind her with hands ready to pull her from the bed. “It’s too soon.”
“What price is this?” Darrius asked, his eyes now widening at the sight of Dnara’s bandages. “Faedra have mercy,” he whispered under his breath but did not instruct Dnara to stop as she sat at the edge of the bed.
“Open the window,” Dnara asked of Athan, and Athan shook his head.
“Is that wise?” Darrius glanced from her to the priest to his daughter, but Elder Rellius had gone silent and still, bald head bowed low in prayer.
“Athan,” Dnara pleaded again. “Please.”
“Damn you, Demroth,” Athan muttered but complied, unhooking the latch and flinging the two window panes wide open into the temple gardens below.
Ashbird song filled the room along with a gentle wind. Elizabeth curled up within the blanket, a meek voice complaining of the noise and the chill. Darrius stood from the bed and headed for the window, but Athan stopped him with a single, hard look. Whatever the reason, the open window had been deemed necessary, the wind part of the magic or the spirit that would allow Dnara the chance to do what had been considered, until recently, to be impossible.
“So cold,” Elizabeth whimpered within the thick blankets. “Please. It hurts, Papa. It hurts!”
“Gods save me,” Darrius cried and fisted his hands to keep from pushing Athan away from his guard post at the open window. He began pacing the small room, muttering curses under his breath.
“Pray with me, Darrius,” Rellius commanded softly and Darrius came to a halt.
“Yes, Elder.” With great effort and a long breath, Darrius became still, standing next to Rellius with head bowed in supplication.
Left with no sound but the breeze whistling quietly into the stone room and Elizabeth’s pained whimpers, Dnara closed her eyes and set a hand on the woman’s forehead. Without assuredly knowing what was supposed to be done, Dnara simply tried what she’d done with Penna, wishing to sooth the woman’s pained crooning and hoping to offer some form of comfort. Elizabeth’s forehead felt so cold, like a winter’s morning, damp and clammy to the touch with the threat of frostbite looming. Dnara kept her palm pressed to it despite the chilling discomfort seeping into her hand. She could scarce believe a human body could become so frigid while life remained within it.
Her mind focused in on Elizabeth’s ragged breathing, in and out, in and out; each inhale a hard won battle and every exhale an exhausted wheeze. Between the breaths, Dnara felt the low thump of Elizabeth’s heartbeat as it sped and slowed and sped again, racing then stumbling in its attempts to keep Elizabeth’s temperature above freezing. If Elizabeth had just fallen into a frozen river, Dnara would not have questioned her current state. But to be like this, in this room, with winter already bowing its head in departure to spring? It could only be the work of some unnatural thing.
This unnatural thing had attached itself to Elizabeth, festering within her body and consuming her warmth, her light, her life. And as with Penna, the deeper Dnara listened, the closer she came to this other thing, its own pulsating life force almost masked by Elizabeth’s weakening heartbeat. But there, in the stillness between the wind, the breathing and the prayers of men, Dnara heard it and reached down to grasp it.
So deep. So dark. Dnara sank down, down, down into shadow.
The ashbirds went silent. A raven gave a warning call. Wind swirled into the room, lifting cloth and pages and feathers into a whirling storm that threatened to knock over mayor, priest and forester. The mayor let out a raised call to the gods as the blanket ripped away from his daughter and flew out the window. Centered within, Dnara held onto Elizabeth and remained focused on the darkness.
It rose over her head, drowning her. Bubbles rose as she continued to fall through murky ink of untold depths, drawn to a distant shore where a light flickered. She fought the tide, pounded by the waves which latched on and tried to pull her back under. So close, so close, so...
And there it was, a light burning brighter than a thousand stars, waiting for her with arms outstretched and the words of promise forming on a mouth not yet shaped.
A child, Dnara thought with surprising clarity, and the wind drew in protectively. Elizabeth was with child. Dnara wept with the wind as the blight latched on to the light and would not let go. The sea swelled and its surface frosted. A puff of white came from between Dnara’s chapping lips as before her the child’s light struggled to remain lit.
In an unwanted realization, Dnara cursed the blight. The blight was too strong, the remaining life too weak to keep both embers burning. Mother or child, she would have to choose.
The light upon the shore smiled at her across the waves, an understanding forming within its unopened eyes. Dnara had brought this knowledge to it, a connection to the world outside and the mother this light endangered. It had not known, had only wanted to shine, had only wanted to live. But no, not like this, not at the cost of another. The light
