Isa had done this healing thing before. She could do it again.
She swallowed hard as she stared down at Talan’s mangled body. He was still breathing, but that wasn’t saying much. Each breath was shallow and labored, leaving him whimpering in pain as his skin moved. He was covered in so much blood she could barely recognize him. At least he was unconscious. No man should have to suffer through this kind of torture.
The damage she’d healed with Warrian had been a hangnail by comparison to what had been done to Talan.
Shoving away all doubt, she put the rings of the garala on her fingers, taping them on as she had before. A quick glance at Warrian and Radek showed them still by the house, trying to get out of there alive.
She didn’t know what she’d do if all these men died. She had no idea how to find another window or someone she could trust. She didn’t know where to hide, or if doing so would mean that thousands more people died at the hands of the Raide.
Looking down at Talan’s damaged body, she knew she wouldn’t let those fuckers get away with what they’d done. She was going to fight them. She was going to kill them if she got the chance. Any being who did this to another was a waste of oxygen.
With the need for vengeance quaking through her, she pulled in a deep breath and pressed her hands together.
“I’m going to try to help you Talan. I’m really sorry if it hurts,” she whispered.
He gave no sign that he’d heard her, but the garala lit with pale green fire, as if it had. Streaks of light leapt from her hands, arching into Talan’s body. She wasn’t sure where she could touch him without causing more pain, so she just moved her hands closer, until they were hovering over his skin so close she could feel his body heat.
That strand began unraveling from her core, only this time it was far thicker and rougher than it had been before. Sharp, intense hunger hit her, streaking through her gut and up her spine. She knew it wasn’t real—she wasn’t starving to death—but that didn’t change how desperate she became. If she stopped, the hunger would go away. The strand would snap back inside her, where it belonged, but then Talan would die.
Isa pushed forward, gritting her teeth as the sparking green lightning fell from her hands into his skin. She thought she saw one of his wounds close, but there was too much blood to be sure.
She moved up to his head where the worst damage had been done. His scalp was flayed open, his skin hanging in odd folds. She didn’t know if she needed to touch him—to put the pieces close together so they could heal. But as she was debating what to do, she saw one section of inked skin shift on its own, moving as it was knitted back in place.
She watched in awe, marveling at the magic that fueled this device, trying to grasp onto any distraction that would keep her from thinking about the gnawing, growing hunger filling her up.
As a second wound began to close, her body started shaking with fatigue. There were dozens of wounds on his body. Maybe hundreds. There was no way she could heal them all and still survive.
In that moment, she realized that she had no idea how to make the garala stop.
Panic shot through her so hard her limbs tingled with it. She pulled her hands away, just to see if distance would help, but instead, it made the strand yanking from her grow thicker, as if fighting her.
Instincts forced her hands closer again, easing the rough pain a little. She still felt like she was dying—like her guts were being ripped out through her navel—but at least she was dying at a slower rate when her hands were near him.
Her body slumped forward until she was leaning against the truck door. She had no strength to hold herself up. Even her eyes were too heavy to stay open.
A moan of suffering echoed inside of the truck. The sound had come from her, and it was a sad, pitiful thing, but she couldn’t make it stop. There wasn’t enough of herself left to care how she sounded.
Blobs of color exploded in her sight. She wasn’t going to be able to stay awake much longer. She feared what might happen if her hands slipped away, so she tucked them under Talan’s heavy shoulder to pin them in place.
His breathing was steadier now. She could tell because her own was far more shallow and erratic. All the heat had fled her skin, and only her fingers were warm where they met his skin.
The hunger expanded into a living, ravenous beast that lashed around inside of her. Her body became light as everything within her was devoured. There was no more left for her to give. Talan had taken it all and was still demanding more.
Somewhere in the distance, she heard an explosion. It rocked the truck. She couldn’t figure out what had happened, but there was no energy left in her for curiosity or fear. She was scraped hollow—a crumbling shell too brittle to touch. And then even the shell was gone, leaving nothing.