I sucked in a determined breath and stood, but too quickly, and I staggered. Steadying myself, I shook off the supporting hands of Amon’s brothers and turned to Ahmose. “Will my energy help heal him?”
“No!” The surprising outburst seemed to be all that Amon could bear. Something broke inside him and he slumped against the chair, unconscious.
“Your bond does enable the transfer of energy,” Ahmose said quietly, “but I doubt that your remaining strength will be enough to heal him.”
“Regardless, he wouldn’t want to put you at risk,” Asten added. “The fact that he absorbed all the pain he experienced without sharing even a little shows the depth of his concern for you.”
“What do you mean? Are you saying he deliberately avoided taking my energy? That he blocked our connection?”
“The times you stumbled or felt weakened were moments when he lost control, but he has been depriving himself of your strength for some time.”
“It was foolish of him to allow himself to become so enfeebled,” Ahmose said.
“Would you not have done the same if you felt as he does?” Asten countered.
Ahmose grunted and folded his arms across his chest. “He is closing off his future paths by choosing this course.”
“Perhaps the path that remains is the one fate has determined for him.”
Ignoring Asten’s comment, Ahmose explained, “Without his three other canopic jars, Amon’s powers have waned significantly. At this time he is nearly as mortal as you are. If he didn’t have the strength of the falcon, it is likely that the incarnation of Apophis would have destroyed him. I cannot journey to the past to ensure his well-being, but I will lend whatever energies I can to him now in the hope that it will be enough. As a mortal, your life essence is already dangerously sapped, Lily. I dare not take any more.”
“Well, I don’t care. Between your healing ability and what remains of my energy, how much of this can we fix?”
Ahmose sighed, rubbing his jaw as he peered at my determined face. “I may be able to heal what is broken inside his body enough so that he can function, but his eyes are a different matter.”
“May I contribute something?” Dr. Hassan asked.
Ahmose shook his head. “Only the one bonded to him can transfer energy. Even if Asten joined with me and we drained you dry, Lily, it would not be sufficient to restore his eyes and invigorate him enough to perform the ceremony. Restoring that which has been torn from our bodies is extremely complicated.”
“The ceremony is the most important thing,” Asten stated. “Amon still has his third eye. That will sustain him until Seth is bound once again.”
“His third eye? Do you mean the Eye of Horus?”
“Yes,” Asten answered. After a brief glance at Dr. Hassan, he continued. “The Eye of Horus is likely the reason Sebak focused on Amon’s eyes.”
“He wanted the power for himself,” I speculated.
“That is correct, but Amon took precautions before he gave himself up,” the god of the stars said. “Unfortunately, it seems to have backfired.”
“What precautions? What do you mean?”
Sighing, Asten ran a hand over his bare scalp. “We knew that the dark priest would try to take the Eye, so we transferred it.”
“How? Do you have it, then?”
“No. I am afraid I am the one currently in possession of the Eye.” Dr. Hassan stepped forward. “Amon made me a temporary vessel to hold it for him. It was how I could discern hidden places within the oubliette and found a way out.”
“Yes,” Ahmose said. “But a mortal can sustain the Eye for only a short time. If we cannot transfer it back to Amon soon, your doctor will begin to have irrational thoughts, which will lead to hallucinations and, eventually, madness. My soul was almost lost because the Eye was not focused.”
“Do you mean when we raised you?” I asked.
“Yes. The Eye guides us when we are called forth from the afterlife, and without Hassan guiding me properly, I could have ended up lost in the dark places between.”