I, however, have help. Countless individuals line up behind me: Kearan, Dimella, Jadine, Roslyn, Enwen, Taydyn, Philoria, Visylla, Dynkinar, and so many more. They add their strength to mine.
Threydan puts up the best fight he possibly can, but in the end, the battle finishes in the only way it could.
The panaceum is mine. I cut off his access to it, and I recall the powers that it granted him. He falls alone into darkness.
When I open my eyes, Threydan’s head is slumped against his chest. He doesn’t breathe or move. It isn’t the stillness of an immortal, but the stillness of the dead.
I close his brown eyes with my fingertips.
Chapter 25
I STAND WITH THE panaceum in hand and survey my crew.
There is a tense moment where we stare each other down. I can only imagine how I must look: my eyes an eerie blue, blood raining from my hands, my body extra still.
I see the fear in their eyes. I am physically changed. So why shouldn’t my mind be changed as well?
My eyes drift down to the panaceum, clasped gently between my fingers. It is mine to control now, not Threydan’s. I close my eyes to concentrate. I can feel my essence encased within that small orb, thrumming excitedly.
I seize it like a parent does a lost child. I put my lips to the swirling blue, and for the first time in a long time, I feel.
Warmth spreads across my lips as I make contact. I feel that writhing mass of me reenter my body, settle within my heart, then disperse throughout the rest of my limbs.
The cold of this frozen land slams back into me. More so than usual since I recently went for a swim in the freezing ocean and am still damp with both salt water and newly shed blood. But I welcome that biting cold like an old friend. I missed it. I missed feeling.
I missed being alive.
When the physical changes are done, I try to cut myself off mentally from the panaceum. I hear the undead slump to the deck, lifeless once more. Within my mind’s eye, I imagine a pair of scissors aiming for that tether between me and the panaceum, except as I look at it, I realize it’s not alone.
There is the smallest bit of my essence contained within the orb.
And I realize that if I were to completely sever that tie, I would die. Because the object was still corrupted—still encased within Threydan’s flesh when he changed me—I, too, suffer the consequences of that corruption. If I were to cut ties with it, that healing would be undone.
It has to stay with me always. I can’t hand it off to Alosa and be done with it. My hand tightens in a vise around the cursed object.
When my eyes reopen, I know they are brown once more by the way all the occupants on the ship suddenly relax their postures.
I say with a slight chatter, “What do the lot of you think? Is it not time we put this place behind us for good?”
Then the cheering starts.
Drifta and Islanders embrace. Dimella whistles in a way that splits the ears. Philoria and Visylla jump into the air with arms clasped around each other. Roslyn slides down from the crow’s nest and clamps herself around me, uncaring that I’m covered in blood.
Kearan meets my eyes over all the celebrating people, but his widen before they roam frantically over the crowd.
“Wait!” he shouts. “Where’s Enwen? Has anyone seen Enwen?”
All sounds stop, and no one answers his question.
“Enwen!” Kearan bellows. He weaves through the dead bodies, rolling them over and checking their faces. When it becomes impossible to tell how many he’s sorted through, he starts tossing over the dead and previously undead. The rest of the crew doesn’t need my order to help. The lads help carry all the bodies overboard. Some of the girls go below to search. The injured are brought to me, and I heal them all in quick succession. Dimella begins roll call and takes down the names of the Drifta who have joined us.
When done, I aid in the search, finding Kearan near a pile of bodies at the front of the ship. One at a time, he rolls them off the heap with the strength of a bear.
Enwen’s still form lies beneath them all.
The panaceum can do many things, but it cannot bring people back from the dead.
Kearan falls to his knees beside the body. His face is distraught. He gathers Enwen up in his arms and— Drops him.
“You bloody bastard!” Kearan says. “I could feel you breathing, you half-wit.”
Enwen cracks one eye open as he rubs the back of his head. “Maybe I lost consciousness.”
“You were faking dead!”
“I wouldn’t have to if you just told me how much you cared!”
Kearan looks ready to punch him. He stands, turns around, and meets my eyes. I cross my arms and look pointedly between the two of them. It takes a while, but eventually he gathers control of his temper. He reaches out a hand to Enwen and helps him to his feet. I observe as he draws Enwen close, whispers something in his ear, then releases him.
The crew goes back to cheering, and it’s as though nothing happened at all.
Enwen steps back from Kearan with the biggest grin I’ve ever seen. “Don’t worry,” he says. “Your secret is safe with me. Now, go on.” He pushes Kearan in my direction, not that Enwen could make him move if he didn’t want to.
All the screaming and laughter of the crew fades to the background as that big, brutish man approaches me. He enfolds me in his arms, covering my poorly clothed limbs with his warmth.
“You’re freezing,” he says.
“I know. Isn’t it exciting?”
He smiles.
“What did you say to Enwen?”
He rolls his eyes. “I told him he was my best friend.”
“Was it really so hard to say?”
“I’ll never hear the end of it now.”
“Nor would you want to.”
“Suppose not.”
Then I pull his head down to mine.
There may be onlookers, but I doubt they can see anything around Kearan’s form. Besides, I’m too thrilled to care. When our lips touch, a jolt of heat spreads through me. This, this, is how it is supposed to be. How could anyone be content with less?
Heat and soft lips, rough facial hair scratching along my palm. My limbs infusing with his body heat at every point where we touch. It is thrilling and terrifying all at once.
He tilts his head slightly, so our foreheads touch, our lips now a breath apart.
“I like this,” he says.
“Then why did you stop?”
“Perhaps we should get the ship moving?”
“Perhaps you’re right.” I peer around his shoulder. “Dimella! Get us going.”
“Aye-aye, Captain! Kearan to the helm, riggers—”
“Captain Warran can take the helm,” I tell her.
“Indeed he can. Warran, take the helm! The rest of you lot, get moving! We’ve a long sail ahead of us.”
I take Kearan’s hand and pull him after me into the captain’s quarters. Not a second after I get the door closed, a fist pounds against it.
My eyes slam shut, and I barely contain my sigh of frustration. I’m cold and tired and covered in blood. I want nothing more than a moment. Just one moment! Is that so much to ask for?
I slip the panaceum into my boot with my knives until I can fashion something else to carry it in, then wrench open the door and find Dynkinar on the other side.
I say nothing, just stare at her, waiting.