Ella needed something to ground herself. The thoughts whirled through what remained of her being, and she discarded each in turn. Then a thought came that Ella seized with the desperation of a drowning child clutching onto a rope.
She thought of an old man with kind blue eyes, and first she concentrated on his face. When she had it firm in her mind, she felt the ethereal wind settle down. As she pictured Evrin’s face, she drew away from the light and knew she needed still more to hold on to.
She remembered Evrin’s words. What would save her wasn’t experience or knowledge, for the struggle she faced wasn’t anything she’d ever gone through before, and it wasn’t something she could think her way through.
Ella instead drew on her courage.
Rather than searching the void, she searched within herself and felt a thread of power blossom from somewhere deep inside. Ella took hold of the thread and felt her awareness grow until she could suddenly hold onto more than one thought at once.
The wind picked up as she tried to seize more from the well of power. The gust grew in force until it howled and shrieked, trying to block all thought from forming, overwhelming her with the deafening sound.
Ella fought, but she was growing weak, and the more she became aware, the more the wind tore at her, threatening to throw her far from the golden light of peace and instead send her screaming into the void.
Ella tried to calm her fear, but again she needed something to ground herself. She then realized what her visions had been trying to tell her.
Ella remembered seeing herself as a child, and her mother, Katherine, by her side in a way Ella had never known in memory, but she knew in her heart was real. Brandon Goodwin, her old guardian, hadn’t just taught her manners, he’d brought her up, and many of her values were his. She saw Miro, even as a boy, telling her that sometimes the only way was to fight.
Ella focused on the faces: Evrin, Katherine, Brandon, Miro. The wind stilled.
She reached down inside herself and drew on more of the thread of power.
The wind was a gale, and then a storm. As Ella’s memories came, it tore at her, threatening to rip the thread of power away from her grip. Ella knew she had to fight it with every bit of strength she had.
Ella took hold of more of her inner power, bunching it together, hauling on the shining radiance, pulling herself down to the ground.
Even as she perceived a strange feeling of wakefulness, Ella felt the wind come at her from all directions at once. She was in the middle of a vortex, and it was spinning her, around and around, over and again. Ella felt herself losing her way, and her thoughts began to fragment.
She focused on more faces: Layla’s smirk, Shani’s glare, Rogan’s look of concern. She brought more people to the front of her consciousness: Amber, Jehral, Bartolo, Ilathor, Amelia, Tapel, Tomas . . .
Ella focused on Killian. She saw the warm smile that touched even the corners of his eyes, and she heard his laugh. She wanted to hear that laugh again.
She knew that she couldn’t let them down. She couldn’t vanish into the void or rise up into the soft golden light of peace.
Ella used her love to bring herself home.
The wind died down, and Ella took hold of the thread of power with the last shreds of her courage. Rather than let the wind toss her away, she accepted it. Rather than hauling on the radiance, she imagined the power inside her, a well of strength that was there to draw on whenever she needed it.
And then the power was inside her.
Ella opened her eyes. Blinking, she saw daylight pour through the open window. She was in her personal bedchamber in the Imperial Palace, lying on her back under the covers. She pushed the covers aside and stepped out of the bed.
She cast her eyes around the chamber and saw her set of scrills lying side by side on the table, a vial half-filled with essence resting next to the tools.
Ella felt strange. It wasn’t an unpleasant sensation; it was more of a tingling that spread from the tips of her toes to the back of her neck and everywhere in between. She turned to her mirror and her eyes widened.
Ella’s skin shone with health and vitality. Her hair—her hair!—fairly glowed, straight and lustrous, falling down nearly to her waist where before it had only just covered her breasts. She wore a sleeveless white dress that left her feet and calves bare.
Ella caught her own eyes in the reflection of the mirror, and they sparkled back at her.
She smiled.
65
Killian flew through the air to come crashing against the hard wooden wall of the burning shipyard, smashing the planks to splinters. Pulling himself shakily back to his feet, he saw Sentar Scythran walk toward him, taking his time, drawing out the moment of his revenge.