I dreamed of the tower again. But there was no wind and no plinth. There was only the sword in my hand. It radiated heat like something alive. And I knew on some level it was alive.

Eli was there, on the other side of the tower, watching me with a wary gaze. I beckoned him to me, but he shook his head. “Not while you’ve got that.”

I glanced at the sword, not even aware that I had been holding it in front of me, pointed at Eli. He was afraid. Why was he afraid?

I turned and set the sword on the edge of the tower. The moment it was out of my reach my hand felt empty, my body cold from the inside out. I almost picked it up again, but then Eli was there, wrapping his arms around me.

I gasped, amazed that he could touch me here. “Aren’t we dreaming?”

“Yes, but it’s your dream, and I’m not really here. You know that, right?”

I nodded.

“And you must wake up, Dusty. You must wake up soon or … or you might never wake up.”

“What do you mean?”

But Eli didn’t answer. He turned to ash in my arms and then disappeared on the wind.

* * *

Time passed. I could feel it passing around and over me, as if I were a stone set in its river. Eli did not visit my dream again.

* * *

“Has she said anything?”

“Not this morning. Not since yesterday.”

“Any movement?”

“A little. But not enough. Never enough.”

The voices were familiar, but they were so distorted I couldn’t place them. It was as if I were listening to them underwater. Water, I remembered the water. A vision of being surrounded by merkind appeared in my mind. I’d fallen—all the way through the earth into the sea. And I would’ve drowned if not for their help. They’d carried me through the water and then onto dry land.

“What will happen if she never wakes?”

I tried to breast the surface of consciousness, but it was too far. And I slipped down, down, down, under again.

35

Aftermath

When I finally did wake, I found myself alone. The room was a familiar one, the bed large and luxurious with a black and white satin comforter. White sheer curtains hung from the single window. Various paintings decorated the blue-gray walls, one depicting a sunset, another an ancient ship caught in a storm.

I knew this place. This was the spare bedroom in my mother’s house on Waterfront Lane. Framed pictures of me lined the top of the chest of drawers in one corner. There were too many to count—my whole life captured in still, single moments.

All of this I had taken in without sitting up, and I slowly became aware of how heavy and sluggish my limbs felt, as if they hadn’t been used in a long time. I slowly pushed back the bedclothes. When I did, I saw I wasn’t as alone as I’d thought. A sword lay in the bed beside me. The blade was sheathed in a leather scabbard, but I recognized the bone hilt.

Bellanax.

At once everything came back to me with startling clarity. The way I had jumped into that burning fissure. The way the sword had known what to do on its own, absorbing the power of the Telluric Rod as it had just begun to explode. It had pulled that power into itself, and then channeled it outward, breaking the spell before it could complete.

And when it ended I had fallen all the way through the hole and into a channel that led me out to sea. The merkind had rescued me, but I couldn’t remember anything after that.

Gritting my teeth, I sat up, muscles protesting the movement. The action left me panting and weak as I slumped against the headboard. I was wearing a pair of silk pajamas, the kind with a long-sleeved, button-down front and pants. I ran my hand over my stomach, alarmed at how easily I felt my ribs, my belly a sunken, hollow cave between my hip bones. The sight of my body in such a condition set my head to pounding with fright. How long had I been unconscious?

I peered at the closed door into the bedroom, wishing it would open. I didn’t actively engage my mind-magic. I knew I didn’t have the energy for it. But after several minutes of this, I gave up the hope, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The movement was easier, my muscles warming up, but still it left me panting and exhausted.

I slowly slid off the bed and stood, testing my balance. Wobbly, but okay. I glanced at the sword and debated picking it up. I wanted it with me, and yet I didn’t. It filled me with both awe and terror like a wild beast I wanted to tame but was too afraid to approach.

Turning my back on the sword, I crossed the room to the door. I leaned against it for a moment, catching my breath, and then I pushed it open. I walked down the dim, empty hallway with one arm braced against the wall for support. When I reached the end of it, I looked around the corner and spotted my mother standing in the kitchen across the way, only her head and torso visible over the divider into the living room.

Before I could call out to her, she turned and spotted me. The glass in her fingers slipped and crashed to the floor. She didn’t care as she dashed through the kitchen toward me.

“Dusty,” she said, pulling me into a hug. I sagged against her, grateful for the support. Mom pushed me back. “You shouldn’t be up.” She hugged me again. “But I’m so glad you’re awake. So, so glad.”

The relief in her voice made me feel like crying.

Finally, Mom’s grip on me loosened. “I need to call the doctor, let them know you’re awake. You go back to bed.”

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted was to lie down again. Bright light was streaming in through the back porch window, and I pointed at it. “I want to sit out there.”