“Find the burn inside of you, Ilyan. Find the water. Follow it.”
It was advice he would never want to hear. There was so much water in his body, burns and poison that had caused him agony for centuries, pain I knew he had fought against since the day the water first scarred his chest. And now I was telling him to follow it. Now I was telling him to feel it. Regardless, he didn’t hesitate; he closed his eyes, gasping and hissing in agonizing pain as his body tensed, the arms stiffening around Joclyn as the agony became worse.
My muscles tight as I leaned forward, wishing there was a way I could be closer to them, connect with them, guide them through whatever was about to happen.
Nevertheless, I was trapped, watching as Ryland was. His hands were wrapped tightly around the old, iron footboard, leaning toward them with a look on his face that made it clear he had forgotten to breathe.
I didn’t blame him.
Ilyan closed his eyes as the pain became too much, a yell breaking from his chest in a growl filled with the same agony, the same feral sound ripping through the space. I cringed against it, scared of what was about to happen when Joclyn’s voice joined his. The tone of her pain matched his in perfect harmony. It was a song of a screams that ripped through the hot air, ripped through my heart.
And then Ilyan opened his eyes, ones as black as Joclyn’s looking back at me. I saw them for one moment before a painful weight in my chest ran through me. An agonizing weight ripped around me like fire that absorbed me, fire that ruled me, fire that pulled me right into the same sight Joclyn had been trapped in, right into the same sight Ilyan now saw.
Right into the sight that had left me so long ago.
In one distressed gasp, the flames ran over me, drowning me in sights. The visions flashed before me with the speed of a strobe light: images of death, joy, war, and peace. There were images from hundreds of years ago and images I had seen yet had not come to fruition. I watched them all, my chest tightening with the realization of what I was looking at.
It was more than being in sight; it was seeing all sights. I was seeing everything that had ever been given to me by the mud. It was a recall of extraordinary proportions.
As I watched, calmness took over, a peace I didn’t think I had ever experienced before. Seeing all these amazing moments of my life, seeing my wife again, my children, I watched them, no doubt crying, about to burst with the strength of the emotion.
Then it was gone in a flash of white as hot and as powerful as the fire that had pulled me into that space and swallowed me whole.
My nerves jumped as though someone had stomped on me, my awareness tightening painfully at the amazing reality of what I was now surrounded by.
Yes, it was white. It was nothing, but it was more than that.
I was there, no longer sitting in a room with my sister and her mate, no longer broken and weak. I was there, among the nothing, the happiness of my sights still swirling through me.
“Hello.” The feminine voice came out of nowhere, so familiar, but I could not place it. There was wisdom in it that did not seem to fit.
“Hello?” I asked, looking through the space in an attempt to find the owner yet facing only the bright white of the world.
“Your sights are beautiful,” she said, the voice seeming to come from inside of me.
“Are they?” My confusion was melding into something closer to panic.
“Yes.”
“Who are you?” I asked, still looking through the nothing, still trying to place the voice, still trying not to lose my calm.
“You know me,” she said, her voice indicating a smile. “Everything will be all right, Dramin.”
“Will it?”
“Yes,” she said on a sigh, the joy in her voice fading away. The single word echoed hauntingly off the nothingness surrounding me. “It will hurt, but it will all be all right.”
My shoulders jerked at the frightening admission, my legs moving quickly as I pushed myself to stand, my feet spinning, eyes searching, the tension in me growing as I began searching for her, searching for the answers I needed.
“What do you mean?” I gasped. “What are you talking about?”
“Your death.” Her voice was monotone with sadness, the emotion so strong I fell back down to the floor, my heart as heavy as if someone had filled it with lead.
“It is coming, then?” I asked, shocked by the wave of sorrow the thought gave me. I had longed for it for so long, after all. I had seen it. I had expected it. Part of me had given up the moment I had stepped in front of Ryland.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her voice was so close now I was positive that, if I turned, I would see her. However, I didn’t even move. I stared at the palms of my hands, the color dark against the white. “Sooner than you think, but I need you to do something for me first.”