Eyes of Ember (Imdalind Series #2)(9)

“I had an idea,” he said. “I think you need to say goodbye to Ryland too.”

“I can’t, Ilyan. You know I can’t.”

Ilyan moved his fingers away from my neck; he opened the palm of his hand as the ruby necklace flew through the air to land gracefully in his outstretched fingers.

“You can.” He let the necklace fall so he was only holding it by the chain. The ruby sparkled, taunting me.

“I can’t control my magic, Ilyan. You...”

“I will do it for you,” he cut me off, “and I will be here the whole time, keeping you alive. Safe.”

I hesitated, my eyes unwilling to leave the glistening surface of the ruby.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to Ryland?” I looked away from the ruby and up to Ilyan. I did want to see Ryland again; but not the little boy in the T?uha, but my Ryland. I suppose, given the chance to say goodbye to either though, I would take it.

I nodded once in agreement.

“Good, and when you come back I want to talk to you about one last thing. I may have a way to save you – it’s a long shot, but it might work.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“We will talk after you return. Are you ready?”

I wasn’t, but what else could I say. I didn’t have the time to prepare myself, and I knew I would talk myself out of it if I waited too long. I nodded again before I lost my confidence.

“Good.” I felt Ilyan’s magic bubble and boil inside of me as it worked to move the dying sludge that was poisoning my body. He pushed, pulled, and prodded it until it reached the surface. I could feel the thick acid burning underneath the skin of my hand, the rancid magic eating me away.

Ilyan dropped the necklace into my hand and began to work again as he pushed my magic out of me.

My hand began to fill with a fluid that seeped out of my skin as Ilyan pushed. Thick like mud, but smooth and the color of congealed blood, it bubbled out of my skin slow and hot. I now knew why Ilyan had said I was bleeding when I collapsed. It looked like I was holding a giant blood clot in the palm of my hand. I would almost believe it was too, if it wasn’t for the smell. The second it had appeared in my hand a foul smelling stench had filled the air and my stomach heaved in response.

I squirmed and attempted to pull my hand away and get the foul smelling stuff off me, but Ilyan held onto me, keeping my hand in one place.

“It’s okay, Siln?. It’s okay.”

“Is that really...”

“Your magic?” Ilyan finished for me. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong with it?” I said. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the warm goo that was now seeping around the necklace.

“The best explanation I have is that it has rotted and died within you and in turn is poisoning you.” His magic continued to push mine through my skin, the color becoming almost purple as more moved to join the growing mass.

“Can’t we remove it, then?” I asked, wondering if that was what he had in mind.

“I’ve tried, but it did not work.”

“You’ve tried?” I asked, affronted.

“Yes,” he spoke simply, as if this odd invasion of privacy was nothing more than a handshake. “I tried it after you had the first nightmare, while you slept. I hoped that draining what was inside of you would heal you. Unfortunately, it keeps coming back.”

“You’ve done it more than once?”

“Every night. I will try everything to save you, to protect you, Joclyn. Until the day you die. I promise you all that and more.”

Ilyan looked at me for a moment, but all I could do was smile. Ilyan had saved me so many times, and expected nothing in return. I had never wanted him to get too close, but now I was glad he was here.

“Thank you.”

He nodded.

“Are you ready?” His question tore my mind back to the dying magic in my hand. He had stopped forcing the rancid power out of me, leaving the necklace in a small pool of the stuff in my hand.

“I will be with you the entire time, Joclyn. Don’t worry. And when you come back, we will talk.” His eyes lit up for a moment before his determination took over, his jaw set.

“Don’t leave me,” I begged.

“I promise I won’t.”

Reluctantly, I closed my eyes and let myself step into the white space that I shared with Ryland. Except now it was full of color.

I stood in the middle of the space and spun around. I was surrounded by thousands of crude drawings that covered the walls and floor in a rainbow of color. What once had been an undefined space was now enclosed by four walls. There were no windows or doors, so someone had taken the liberty to draw them in.

“Joclyn?” I spun around at the small voice to see Ryland standing in the middle of the room. His small five year old frame seemed to be glowing as I faced him, his blue eyes shining at seeing me there. Ryland as I knew him, as I was bound to him, was not this boy. He was not this age. This boy was only a subconscious projection, the last of the memories that his Father had left him with.

“You came back!” He squealed and barreled into my legs, almost knocking me over onto the hard ground. He hugged me tightly, chalk and crayon dust wiping off onto my pants. I leaned down and ruffled his shaggy black curls.

“I take it you missed me then?” I asked softly.