Imdalind 01 - Kiss of Fire

you just said.”
    “The combination, along with the water, creates an amazing healing property. It can heal and repair anything.”
    “Even broken backs?” I asked with a smile.
    “Even broken backs. But, it does more than that; it also cleanses your soul.”
    “Why...” I tried again, “How is this going to work?”
    “The hope,” Ilyan began, “is that the healing magic, the drevo, will bypass you and pass directly to Ryland so that we can center your magic without harming him. And, if we are extraordinarily lucky, it will heal him as well; which may make the difference in how strong we find him to be in a week.”
    I nodded and stared between the now crystal-clear water and the box of mud. I had to do this; it would be gross, but I had to – ‘for Ryland;’ it was becoming my mantra.
    Ilyan left and allowed me some time to undress and wrap up in a towel. I felt odd standing in the middle of this gorgeous bathroom in only a towel. I took a deep breath and moved my head forward, allowing my hair to fall around my face.
    “I can do this,” I sighed to myself.
    “Yes, Jos, you can. You ready?” Wyn said.
    She stood by the tub offering me a hand. I took it shakily and stepped into the incredibly warm water. I let the towel glue itself to me as I sank down into the warmth, thankful for some semblance of modesty.
    The water felt just as thick as I vaguely remembered, like stepping into a vat of warm hair gel, but without the stick. I sighed and closed my eyes as I leaned against the side of the tub, feeling the warmth move into me. A moment later Ilyan returned.
    “How is it going?”
    “The water seems to have accepted her; so far, so good.”
    “Joclyn,” I opened my eyes to look at him. “I don’t know how this is going to work, but if it opens up another connection, another Tȍuha, between you and Ryland, you can’t let him touch you, okay?”
    “Why not?” I asked, suddenly worried.
    “If his father breaks in when you are in contact during a shared consciousness he could use your magical connection to track you down. He could follow the pull of your newly-awakened powers to find you. A connection like that could put everything in danger. Do you understand?”
    I nodded my head before leaning against the tub and closing my eyes.
    “Open your mouth.”
    I obeyed but didn’t look as Wyn placed the bitter, gritty drevo on my tongue again. I closed my jaw around it tightly, fighting against the reflex to spit it out.
    “Ready?”
    “MmmmHmmm.” I felt Ilyan’s wide hand lay flat against my collar bone.
    The warmth of his magic swam into me, the heat stretching to every corner of my body. It stayed there, comfortably, before his hand moved me under the water. I fought the temptation to gulp in air as he pushed me under. The warmth of his magic gained in intensity as I lay there, under the water, my lungs beginning to protest the lack of oxygen.
    Ilyan’s magic continued to increase until it grew into a pain, my lungs adding their own throbbing in their panic for air. My eyes snapped open again just as I was about to pass out. But I didn’t see Ilyan and Wyn.
    I saw Ryland’s bedroom, I saw Edmund sharpening a knife, and I saw a lot of blood.

    Twenty-Three

    I saw only a flash of the bedroom before I was dragged into the white space again. I stood frozen in the middle of the large room, not daring to move. My hands flexed at my sides, every part of me on high alert. I heard a scuffle and a whimper, followed by a pained sob. I spun around at the sound, my heart plunging to see Ryland curled up in a ball on the floor, his body naked except for a pair of boxer shorts.
    His hands gripped his curly hair tightly, his knees pulled up to his chest. He sobbed as his body writhed. I ran to him, but as I got closer I couldn’t help but think that something was off about him. Just seeing him curled in a ball on the ground, he looked smaller, leaner, less muscular. I had almost reached him when I stopped short; remembering that I couldn’t touch him. He cried out in agony again, before reverting to his tortured ball.
    “Ryland!” I called out, lifting my voice above his screams.
    “Stay away!” he yelled, his voice panicked and high pitched. “Don’t hurt me! I can’t take any more.”
    I gaped at him, his body looked completely fine. Everything was smooth and perfect. Except for his boxers. I looked at what were obviously blood stains, some of the pools of red still wet and