His face tightened.
“The Arrolyn was created by Toritha, but the magic used to create it was Sarenal magic. It was meant for Saren bloodlines. The part of me it is connected to comes from Sarenal, but I do not have Sarenal blood. Eravic does not know exactly what will happen when it wakes.”
“Meaning?”
I swallowed.
“Meaning it could bring things forward that already exist beneath the surface. Feelings. Attachments. Things I do not know are there.”
He was quiet.
“Say what you mean, Asharin.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“It could be feelings for Eravic.”
The silence was immediate.
“It could be something that was never there before. It could be something that was there and I did not recognize it. I do not know. It could instead be hatred for him, or for myself. And I could bring that hatred back into our world. Our life.”
I paused. “It is a risk.”
His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.
“The process is intimate,” I added. “The magic does not understand vows or promises or what is right. It does not understand that I have a husband. That I have children. That I have a life waiting for me.”
I took a breath.
“It only knows what it was created to do.”
“And what happens during those three days?”
“I do not know.”
That was the part I hated admitting.
“I may not remember everything. I may come out of it not knowing what was real and what was caused by the magic. I may feel something for him that feels completely real. I may act on something I would never choose outside of that process.”
His eyes searched mine.
“And afterward?”
I looked away.
“I do not know if I will feel exactly the same. Eravic has said that it is not guaranteed. That strange things can happen because it is such an unnatural awakening and because Sarenal magic is so…dark.”
The words hurt more than I expected.
“But I need you to understand something. I am not choosing this because of him. I am choosing this because I am…slowly dying here. Because I do not know how long the vials will keep working. Because I do not know if I will ever get another chance to return to you and our children.”
A cough caught in my chest before I could finish. I turned away, but not quickly enough. He saw the blood.
His expression changed.
“The poison is getting worse,” I said quietly. “The treatments help, but they are not enough.”
My fingers shook as I wiped my mouth.