“Uh, yes, I hope so. My mum was recently brought in … Donald?”
She blinked at me for a click, before turning to the man at her side. He ran a hand through his inky black hair, letting it fall in disarray around his face. He had a nice face, kind of boring, but not as mean as a lot of sols. The healing-gifted ones were more compassionate in general.
“Your mum’s name is Donald?” he finally asked me.
I tapped my fingers on the bench. Nice face or not, I didn’t have time to mess around. “Trust me, it’s better than Mole. Her name really doesn’t matter. Is she back there?”
They both jumped to attention.
“Yes,” the woman said, “she’s right back here. We tried to heal her, but … Donald, isn’t responding to anything so far.”
The sick feeling I’d had in my gut since we crossed burst back to life. “I’d just like a few clicks with her,” I told them, and no one held me up any longer.
Emmy and Cyrus—who was uncharacteristically quiet, but had at least stopped smiling—followed me. My mum was in the second room along the hall; her wall had the same round windows set into the stone, displaying a calming view of the ocean.
“Just call out if you need anything,” both of the healers said, before they exited, drawing the curtain across the entrance.
For a moment, when I first crossed to my mum’s side, I thought she was dead. Her skin was a sickly grey, her frame sunken, and there was no sign of chest movement to indicate she was breathing. My heart thundered in my chest, and I forced myself to reach out and place my hand on hers.
She was warm, and under my fingertips I felt the faint buzz of her pulse. Alive. She was alive—or at least some version of it.
“What happened to her?” I murmured, hoping that Cyrus would hold some answers.
I felt him move closer, his energy buzzing along my skin. “I have no idea. Servers can usually leave Topia, as you saw when Staviti sent everyone to attack you. There’s something different about your mum, something that impacted her transition to server.”
I let my gaze rest on her weathered face, the fly-away hair and tired features.
“There’s always been something broken in her,” I whispered. “Maybe she just had too many cracks to ever be put together right, even as a server.”
Emmy stepped forward to the other side, her back to the windows, and took mum’s right hand. Both of us held on, fearing that we were already too late.
“She looks really bad,” Emmy sobbed.
I nodded slowly. It was the truth. She looked dead already, and maybe she was. Maybe the signs of life we saw were just the last-ditch attempt of organs to keep blood pumping. Maybe there was no saving her. But I had to try.
“What are you going to do, Will?” Emmy’s words were no louder than a whisper, and she hadn’t taken her eyes off mum even once since reaching her side.
“I might have some healing abilities,” I admitted. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but I have to try.”
I closed my eyes before anyone could say anything else. I had no idea what I was doing—the last time it had just happened, coaxed out by my Abcurses, but this time I was on my own.
Heal, please. I willed my mum to heal, sending forth my intentions, the way I had with Yael. The energy swirling inside of me expanded, until it felt like my skin was heating from the inside out.
“Something’s happening,” Emmy said, startling me.
It was enough for me to lose that focus, and I opened my eyes, hoping that Donald would be sitting up, smiling, awake. Anything.
My heart sank … she looked the same.
“What was happening?” I asked Emmy.
“Your hands were glowing,” she said, blinking at me. “But … the glow didn’t sink into your mum. It just kind of hovered over her, like it didn’t know how to break through whatever spell is on her.”
“Staviti’s energy is hard to best,” Cyrus said from where he had perched himself against a nearby wall. “His energy keeps servers animated—you’d have to bust through it first before you could reach your mother’s energy.”
My eyelids slammed shut. Staviti was not going to win this one. I would not let him.
Heal. Heal. Heal. I chanted those words over and over, the energy picking up even more heat as it swirled harder and faster inside of me.
“Willa!”
Emmy’s shout startled me again, but this time I didn’t mind, because I was about half a click from setting my mum on fire. I jerked my hands back and the small flames that had been filling them died off in the same instant.
“Your energy was responding to your anger,” Cyrus told me, stepping closer for the first time. “I think it might be best to leave your mum for now. She is stable. You need to figure out your gift, first. Then you might have a chance at saving her.”
I wasn’t sure I trusted Cyrus’s advice, but there was some truth to what he was saying.
“So, you think I should just leave her? What if she gets worse?”
“If she gets worse,” he told me, “you can try again. Until then, you need to focus on figuring out exactly what your powers can do. You need to train yourself.”
I made an angry sound. “I don’t have time for this. I have research to do.”
Emmy interrupted our argument. “Maybe you can do both. Research the fallen monarchy and explore your powers at the same time. There is record of gods, sols, and their unique gifts.” She lifted her gaze to Cyrus. “You have a copy of that tome, right?”
He shot her the smile again. I flinched, but Emmy just raised one eyebrow, her focus steady. “It might be in the library,” he finally said. “So hard to know when you can’t read.”
“I’ll be there,” I announced, turning on my heel and heading out of the room.
It didn’t occur to me until I was at the doorway that I didn’t actually know where Cyrus’s library was—or even that he had one there on the mountain. I paused, glanced back, and opened my mouth to ask.
“I’ll show you,” Emmy said, a wry smile twisting her lips.
“Wait.” Cyrus had a strange look on his face as he switched his attention quickly from Emmy to me.
Even though he had asked us to wait, he didn’t follow up that command with anything further, and eventually Emmy turned to face him, an inquisitive look twisting her features. They stared at each other for an oddly long amount of time. Not a word passed between them, until I finally cleared my throat.
“I haven’t allowed anyone else in there,” Cyrus finally admitted, though he seemed to be talking to Emmy.
Emmy didn’t reply. I walked back to her side, peering at her face. She swallowed, her eyes on Cyrus, and for the first time since I had known her, she actually appeared vulnerable.
“I don’t want to break up the unspoken moment,” I announced uneasily, glancing between them. “But can this maybe wait until later?”
I wasn’t even sure that they heard me—they were too busy staring at each other, Emmy looking all vulnerable and Cyrus looking all vulnerable and my mother looking all comatose.
“Will it help if I solve this little conundrum right now?” I asked, still receiving no response. I sighed, moving to stand directly between them. “Okay, here’s the situation. Cyrus, big scary Neutral God, thinks that Emmanuelle, lowly dirt-dweller, has a really nice butt.”
Emmy blinked, switching her gaze to me for the barest moment.
“And Emmanuelle kind of wants Cyrus to be touching all her stuff even though she complains about it, which means she kind of likes him—”
“I don’t,” Emmy interrupted, colour rising in a sudden flush through her cheeks. “Like him, I mean,” she added hastily. “I don’t like him.”
“She does,” I argued, rolling my eyes at Cyrus, who seemed to be coming out of his trance and was now just staring at me in confusion. “And you like her,” I told him.
“No, I don’t,” he argued. “She’s annoying.”
“How annoying?” I goaded.
“So annoying.”
“So annoying that you want to kiss her?”