Sybharukai approached, her paws silent on the sands, her sleek body regal and purposeful. «Be brave, Ellysetta-makai.» The shimmering music of the makai's voice sounded in every cell of Ellie's body, pure and beautiful, ancient and wise. «Your mate offers you his strength, and I offer you the strength of the pride. You do not face this evil alone.» Sybharukai bent her head and opened her mouth. Tairen's Eye crystals dropped to the sands, several dozen of them, large and gleaming with bright rainbow lights in a matrix of deepest ruby. «You have not found your song, but these are crystals carved from the kiyranis of my most powerful ancestors. Use them. Let their magic supplement and focus your own.»

Ellysetta gathered the stones, and Rain spun them into a golden necklace that he set around her throat. The kiyr were powerful indeed. The moment they touched her skin, their energy amplified hers. Her body tingled, and the heavy, curling mass of her hair crackled with energy.

She turned and approached the eggs. Her heart was pounding like a wild drum in her chest, and her throat felt tight and dry, as if all moisture in her body had been sucked away. Please, gods, if you listen to me at all, listen to me now. Please let this work. Please help me save them. Don't let me fail.

The weaves the Eye had revealed weren't all that different from some of the more advanced healing weaves the shei'dalins had shown her this week as they'd sought ways to save the tairen. But where healing was fragrant and warm, Azrahn had a sickly sweet odor and froze the blood in her veins. Even the illusion of it during practice had made her feel ill, which just went to show what a master of Spirit Gaelen was and how intimately he'd come to know the effects of weaving Azrahn.

She now knew, thanks to Gaelen's detailed instruction, exactly where to find the source of Azrahn within herself, how to summon it, how to feed the power into the patterns the Eye of Truth had shown her.

This time, however, the Azrahn she spun would be real, not illusion.

She drew a breath and steadied her nerves before taking the last, resolute steps towards the waiting eggs. Time to do what she'd come for.

She nodded to Rain. He raised his hands and spun a five-fold protection weave around her. It was a fool's hope—she already knew she would not survive this night without another Mark—but he had insisted on weaving what protection he could.

"Sing to them, please, Sybharukai."

Instantly, the vibrant beauty of the great makai's song filled the cavern, swirling around the eggs in flashes of gold and silver. Within their shells, the hatchlings began to croon along with their grandmother's melody. The rest of the pride and Rain joined in, filling the air with magic.

In the deliberate calm of her mind, Ellysetta anchored herself as Venarra had taught her, forming the small partition in her mind, securing the heart of her essence within: the safety valve that would cut her off from her weaves before she lost herself in her healing.

Then she began to weave.

She summoned the elements first, spinning the threads into the patterns the shei'dalins had taught her to encourage the growth of flesh and bone. The kitlings wiggled and stretched in their eggs and chortled with little chuffs of laughter, as if the warm weaves tickled them.

Into the warm, healing weave, Ellysetta added the first cool thread of Azrahn.

The kitlings' songs and laughter turned to whimpers of distress. The tiny bodies that had wriggled against the confines of their shells now shrank and shivered in fear.

«Nei, little kits,» she crooned, adding her voice to the songs of the pride. «It's me, sweetlings. Ellysetta. Don't be afraid.»

But even as she coaxed them, she felt the flutter of something dark and dangerous. Something roused by her thread of Azrahn.

Frightened, she started to pull back, but the whimpers of the kitlings made her stop. She was their only hope. She could not abandon them. And these were the patterns the Eye had shown her she must weave.

Gritting her teeth, she spun another thread of Azrahn and added it to the mix, then another and another, weaving the chilly, rippling threads of red-tinged darkness into the shining mix of healing magic.

Eld ~ Boura Fell

In the chambers of the Mage Council, the High Mage and Eld's most powerful Primages were meeting to discuss the final preparations for war. Vadim Maur stood before the map of Eloran's largest continent, where their first targets had already been decided.

"The troops are ready, Most High." Primage Sib Vargus bowed to his superior. "Give the word and they will enter the Well."

Vadim Maur opened his mouth to utter the command, but before he could speak, a wholly unexpected, wholly familiar tingle of powerful magic swept over him. He grabbed the edges of the map table to keep himself steady and closed his eyes in a shudder of delight.

Ellysetta Baristani was weaving Azrahn. Sweet, powerful, glorious Azrahn.

It sang across his veins, resonating with incredible vitality and power. Even here, half a world away, he could feel the enormous wellspring of her potential. Her mastery of the great power was sublime—such fine weaves. Such innate comprehension and prodigal talent.

His for the claiming.

He struck, swift and hard, lashing out across the connection of her existing two Marks with a brutal whip of power and a triumphant salutation. «Hello, girl.»

The Fading Lands ~ Fey'Bahren

Even knowing it was coming—even expecting the pain and despair of it—Ellysetta still screamed and fell to her knees when the High Mage's power stabbed deep into her breast and pierced her heart. Ice gripped her in a paralyzing embrace. Her vision went black, and in the darkness she saw the twin bloody moons of glowing ember eyes, heard the familiar taunting voice of her enemy. «Hello, girl.»