Page 266 of The Edge of Darkness

He shifted me in his arms. “Auren? Auren!”

Everything blurred.

“What’s happening to her?” he shouted.

“The waters are working,” the wraith answered, but her voice was starting to sound further away as I slipped in and out of consciousness.

Weston said something else, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

I blinked, trying to find his face as I said, “Don’t hurt her.”

He knew of whom I spoke. His glance at the wraith confirmed it.

My head drifted to the side, and the last thing I saw was the wraith, bobbing in the water, watching, waiting. Then, darkness swept in like a rampant tide, taking my consciousness with it.

There was nothing to see in the dark abyss—no strange presence, no voices tearing at my senses. Just a gentle humming that rippled over my body in waves. I wasn’t sure what it was, or why it hovered over my abdomen. I didn’t seem to care enough to dwell on either thought. I just drifted, attuned to the gentle energy that purred along my skin and left me lost to time.

When I opened my eyes, the room was still dark.

No, not a room . . . A cavern.

I gasped, remembering where we were and what had happened.

Above me, a pair of black wings, disheveled brown hair . . .

Weston’s eyes widened. “She’s awake!” He shifted his body, lifting me partially out of the water.

The wraith splashed into view, her cold hands suddenly clutching onto my forearm. “How do you feel?”

“Alive,” I answered. And it was good to see that Weston had listened and not blamed the wraith when I’d passed out, or . . . died. I wasn’t sure which one had happened, and I was too afraid to ask.

In the time that I’d been assumedly unconscious, we had moved. We were closer to the edge of the pool, and from the looks of it, Weston had been resting against a large rock while holding me.

“How long was I out?”

“An hour, if I had to guess,” he answered.

It hadn’t felt like an hour at all.

I brought my hand to my abdomen, feeling for any sign of my wounds. Nothing, no gashes or indentations. No pain. Just the shredded pieces of leather that hung from my vest where Skadi’s shadow had sliced into me. The skin on the palm of my hand was sealed and smooth, and my face no longer hurt or felt swollen.

I lifted a finger to where the arrow had pierced my chest. The hole was gone. The water had healed me completely.

Movement caught my attention from across the pool.

It was the auburn-haired Dionach, the one who had jumped in front of me to save my life. The one who . . .

My eyes drifted down his arms, into the water. He was holding something down.

Memories barreled through my mind. Shadows, and black fur, and blood running over the forest floor, and⁠—

“Breck! Is he . . . Has he not woken up?”

The wraith slowly shook her head.

“How long does it normally take? The water will heal him, won’t it?”

Her face remained solemn. “He was dangerously close to death. So were you, but your god-blood gave you an advantage that he did not have.” She looked over her shoulder to where the other Dionach stood. “It could take time. Or . . . time might not be enough.”