Then the monster roared with desperate fury and charged away, its massive legs churning through the detritus and scrub.

Shion grunted and knelt near her body. She could hear the crackling of the leaves. She tried to speak to him, but there was nothing she could do—no way she could form any words. She floated inside the crystal, trapped like one of the myriad spirit creatures of Kenatos.

“No,” Shion whispered, his throat catching with agony. She was aware of his presence, squinting at the light and how it refracted within the prism of her prison. She heard the ragged intake of breath, the quaver. “No . . . no . . . no . . .”

I’m all right, she thought to him. Shion, I’m all right!

She experienced a strange disorientation, as if her body were being moved. The brightness intensified, but there was no way she could blink or shield her eyes. He was glowing so brightly. Part of her retreated deeper into the gemstone, trying to avoid the stabbing glare, but another part of her was curious and she drew toward the light.

“No,” he whispered with soul-crushing despair. “Not again.”

Shion! she screamed at him. I’m alive! Do not despair, I am alive!

He started to weep. The sound ripped through her senses, plunging her into depths of sorrow. She wanted to scream, to shake herself free. If she could unclench her hand, she knew she would awaken—to comfort and reassure him. But she could not control her body. She listened with pain as he wept for her. His words were so soft, yet they pierced her like swords.

“I failed you. I failed you. Not again. Please, not again.”

Shion! I’m here. I’m here. Please . . . don’t despair. I’m here. I am here!

“Too late,” he moaned. “I failed you. I failed you again. My darling. My love.”

There was another sound, the sound of a man approaching.

Phae’s soul stretched with suffering and anguish. His words . . . what did they mean? He loved her? What could he mean? Why was he saying he had failed her again? What was the source of such despair?

Shion! she screamed at him in her mind.

She heard Prince Aransetis’s voice, muffled. “She’s still alive. But you must appear to mourn her. She clutches a stone, the same one Tyrus used to deceive you. Her spirit is trapped inside it. When we leave this place, Tyrus will revive her. Courage, friend. Courage.”

Shion’s shuddering breath resounded through the sob. “Truly?” he gasped.

“It’s part of Tyrus’s plan. Stay. I’m to tell the others. Hold her close. We leave by Tay al-Ard.”

Phae could hear as Prince Aran left. She did not hear what happened to the others. Instead, she could hear Shion’s breathing begin to calm. The disorienting feeling came again. The stone moved. She felt the lurch and swirl of the world and it dizzied her.

“Are you . . . are you truly alive?” Shion whispered to the stone.

Yes, I am! I want so much to tell you—if only I could speak. She wished she could relieve his suffering. She yearned for a voice to assure him. It made her suffer seeing him suffer so much. It was a shared torment.

All was quiet. “They come,” he said, his voice deadening, shrouded again with the mournful sound of a sorrowing soul.

“Vitess Morain.” The words were Vaettir-born, but spoken by Tyrus.

Annon stared at Phae’s ashen face. Suddenly, her skin began to flush with color and she began to breathe. Hope surged inside him, lifting him from the despair. They crowded around her as her eyes fluttered open.

“Amazing,” Annon whispered, covering his mouth. Phae winced, suddenly aware of the pain through her body. The cut on her head began to drip small beads of blood. She looked up at each of them, wrinkling her nose, but when her eyes finally locked on Shion’s, she rose up and hugged him, burying her face shyly against his chest.

Annon’s heart burned inside him, soothing the pain from his slashed face. His hands were throbbing. He dared not look at them for fear of what he would see. They had survived the ordeal. Somehow, they had survived it, but not without its victims.

Hettie stifled her own tears and turned away from the scene, her eyes glistening with pain, her expression contorted with the rush of emotions. Annon went and slung his arm around her shoulders, pulling her to him, holding her close.

Hettie shook her head sadly, brushing the tears angrily from her eyes. “The fool,” she stammered, her bravado masking her worry. “The pigheaded fool. Paedrin, you really have sheep-brains.”

Annon wanted to chuckle, but another part of him wanted to sob. “My heart hurts right now. I’m not sure what to feel.”