Talia was hesitant to leave Azriel's side. With every breath that left him, she held hers, waiting for him to take another. Cassian had exited finally, hesitantly, to speak with his mate. He had been gone maybe half an hour. Her head was spinning, trying to remember anything they had read, anything she had learned in Hybern, that could have prepared her for that. An animation Hex, based on what the creator wanted, was a danger to all of them. The animated corpse would wreak havoc until the flesh gave out and the spell dissipated. As her mind went around and around, she heard footsteps approaching. Two pairs. She took her hand off of Azriel's arm and turned, expecting Cassian and Rhysand, but the first walked in followed by Nesta. She looked like she always did, cast in a stony calm, but Talia could read the nerves on both of them.
"Rhysand will go to the house first," Cassian said, referring to Rhysand and Feyre's chateau on the river in the city. "We should go there to meet him." Talia was a bit taken aback by the suggestion, was it worth leaving Azriel alone to get to Rhysand that much sooner? Cassian was watching her, waiting for her answer. He read the question on her face before she could ask it. "Unless you think we shouldn't." Unless you think we can wait.
Talia looked at the shadowsinger over shoulder. Maybe they didn't have time to wait. Rhysand may have other matters to attend to and wouldn't come straight to the house, but if they met him there at home first, they could get what he had found and return sooner. She looked back toward Cassian and nodded. "Okay."
Cassian turned toward Nesta hovering behind him as if he had just remembered she were there. "Nesta will stay here." The female stepped around her mate and nodded. Talia's shoulders dropped a centimeter. If anyone could handle whatever might happen while she was gone, it was Nesta. "I'll meet you in the great hall." Talia nodded, realizing she were still barefoot. The taller female came and stood next to her.
"Cass told me what happened." Nesta looked sideways at her. "Are you sure you're okay?"
Talia wasn't sure the answer to that. Physically, yes, but the weight of the end upon them all was especially heavy on her shoulders now. She forced a smile. "I healed."
Nesta nodded, understanding, and declining to press further. "Go." She said. "We'll be fine."
Talia nodded in return, backing away from the side of the bed where they stood and hesitating for a moment longer before turning and leaving the room. She shouldn't keep Cassian waiting. She hurried to her room and laced up her boots, the pair she had been wearing when Rhysand had arrived in her cell. It felt like ages ago. She went back up the stairs, slower this time, finally registering the familiar pain that shot from ankle to knee and back with each step. She held to it, a good reminder of what happened when she failed. She walked into the great hall where the Illyrian stood waiting. He nodded to her as she entered and walked to the edge of the cliff just outside the windows, waiting for her to follow. She stood next to him for a moment, staring out at the land before them. They could see the city of Velaris in the distance, the river a sparkling snake lazily slithering through it's middle. It really was beautiful. Without turning to her, Cassian spoke.
"You ready?" his tone implied he was questioning more than just her readiness for the flight to the chateau. All she could do was swallow and nod. He scooped her up like a child and she turned her head into his shoulder and closed her eyes, not wanting to see the world fly past beneath her. It was mid morning and the sun warmed her as they landed, sooner than she had expected, in the courtyard of Rhysand and Feyre's home. Talia hadn't been there previously and despite her nervousness at the upcoming conversation, she reveled in the beauty of the light colored stone mansion before her. Modest, gentle, pretty like Feyre, but carrying an obvious powerful presence like her mate. They walked in, Cassian stopping in the foyer and looking around for anyone to speak with.
"Wait here." He said to her and walked off down the hall. Talia walked to a beautiful set of reading chairs near a fireplace and waited for him to return. She closed her eyes and concentrated, listening for voices.
".....teaching at the studio today. She said she'd be back late afternoon." A beat of silence and the same raspy female voice said. "He shouldn't be long according to the Lady, you are welcome to wait." Talia could hear his feet approaching her. He sat down next to her with two steaming cups of tea and handed one to her.
"Rhysand should be back soon. Feyre is teaching in the city today." Talia looked at him with a question. He took a sip of his drink. "Painting." She nodded and looked straight ahead again. The paintings she had passed in the entryway must be the high lady's.
Cassian leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees. He looked at her after a moment. "Are you sure you're alright?" she knew he was referring to what had happened that morning. She wished they would stop asking, but she smiled softly.
"Yes. I healed. I'm fine." He stared ahead at the fireplace, no fire inside. The house was plenty warm today from the sun. They sat in silence for a few moments. "Are you okay, Cassian?" she asked tentatively. She didn't want to pry, and part of her was afraid of his answer. He was old, as were the other two, they had seen and endured many things, but this strain, this sadness wasn't something she could heal. He didn't turn to face her this time.
"I have seen many things, but this...." he trailed off, looking down at the cup he held between both hands. "He would hate being seen like this." She knew he wasn't just referring to Azriel's weakened state, or lying in bed like a statue. He continued looking down and she stayed silent, letting him go on. "He would hate that we have spent all this time and effort...." He trailed off again, leaning back in to the chair and turning away from her. "He would hate that we have spent all this time for it to end here." He took a sip, still facing away. "I'm ready for this to be over, one way or the other." Cassian hated how his voice sounded spitting out the words he had only said to himself up to this point. He didn't hate the healer, and after seeing her react this morning, any distrust he had for her had nearly dissolved. He knew she was trying her best, that she truly desired to help. But it was hard to justify the danger they had put themselves in to bring her here if she were unable to bring Azriel back.
Talia nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "He would be glad to know how much you all care for him." She didn't want to say anything else. Cassian had softened toward her in the recent days, but now, as she grew closer to failure, she could understand how he might see her time in Velaris as a waste. She looked down at her own cup and kept her eyes trained there, not wanting to look back at him, not wanting to see resentment there. One way or the other. She understood. She had seen it many times. The pain a long illness puts on the people around the life in peril becomes unbearable. The constant waiting for the worst thing imaginable. Often death at this point is a relief, a chance to finally move forward. They stayed like that until Rhysand arrived. They heard his footsteps outside the house when he winnowed on to the path to the front door. Cassian stood to meet him and Talia followed suit. They stood inside the entryway expectantly as Rhysand opened the front door, his arms full of papers and books. He opened the front door, saw them standing before him and nearly dropped what he was carrying, his mouth falling open in surprise. They should have warned him somehow.
"Something happened?" his voice portrayed none of the surprise and concern on his face. Talia's cheeks flushed. Of course they should have warned him, he would think they were here to tell him the worst. Cassian stepped forward slightly. He opened his mouth and shut it again. They hadn't spoken about what to say to Rhysand.
"It's an animation Hex. We learned this morning." Cassian said, finally. Talia looked up at him quickly, surprised he was so blunt with the news, before looking back to Rhysand and nodding her confirmation. She realized she was wringing her hands and discreetly clasped them behind her back.
Rhysand was looking at Cassian, all business. "How do you know?" he looked back at Talia, expecting her to answer but as she opened her mouth to speak, Cassian continued.
"He sat up in bed and grabbed the healer by her neck." Talia did her best not to flinch at him calling her the healer. It was clear the resentment would stay. "I found them in time to pull her away." Again, Talia fought to keep any emotion from her face. Behind the bitterness in Cassian, she could sense something else. Guilt?
Rhysand let surprise slide back on to his features. Slowly, he sat the books in his arms down on a nearby end table and looked between them, full of questions. "What do you mean he sat up? How?" Talia new it was coming together in his mind. If they had discovered it was an animation Hex, then he sat up because he was....animated. Before either of them could answer, a shadow crossed his face. "Animation requires death." Talia was already shaking her head before he finished.
"He's not dead. Everything seems normal." She said. Relief flashed there too, between concern and that serious mask he almost always wore.
"Okay. So what, he sat up and" he looked at Talia this time and said cautiously, placing his own hand on his neck. "Grabbed you by the neck?"
Cassian spoke again before she could, and she was glad to let him. It wasn't an easy thing to explain. "He wasn't himself, obviously." He hesitated. There wasn't really a way to describe exactly what he had been in that moment. "He lifted her off the floor with both hands." He put his hands together in front of him as if wrapped around some invisible neck. She absentmindedly touched her own neck lightly before dropping her hands.
"And you're alright?" Rhysand asked, his question pointed at her again.
"Yes. I healed." She answered for the third time today. Cassian didn't pipe up so she continued. "We came here to catch you, hoping you had found something."
Rhysand looked at the books he had laid down and then back to them. "Maybe." He didn't offer anything else, asking about the Hex again. "But how do you know this is animation? If he is still living, can you be sure?"
Talia wasn't sure how to answer. You could show him. She clenched her eyes closed for a second, hoping it wouldn't come to that. "Based on what I saw, I'm not able to come to any other conclusion...."
Before she could go on, Cassian took another step forward and spoke over her. "I'll show you." There was that tiny thread of guilt again. She looked up at him, standing next to her. He was going to call up that memory so that she wouldn't have to. Another olive branch. Rhysand looked at him for a moment as if to ask if he were sure before both of them dropped their hands to their sides and their eyes glazed over. Talia watched them patiently. It took no more than a minute. Rhysand looked back to her and nodded, confirming that he had found no other conclusion as well. She knew he trusted her but had to be sure. She would have felt the same.
"I need to change, then I'll follow you back to the house. Go on ahead." Talia and Cassian nodded and walked out the door. When he turned to her to scoop her up and fly back to the house, she put a hand on his arm to stop him.
"Thank you." She said, hoping she sounded as sincere as she felt. "For doing that."
"For doing what?" he feigned confusion.
"For showing Rhysand that memory. So I didn't have to." His eyes softened toward her ever so slightly but he didn't speak. "It's not the end yet, you know." She said. "I am doing everything I can."
"I know, little one." He said, pulling his arm from her grasp and shooting them both into the sky. Talia knew his anger at this entire event had been boiling up in him and that it wasn't truly directed at her. It had shown in that moment as disdain over her being there, but it wasn't truly about her. She relaxed into the flight as they finished the short trip back to the House of Wind, Rhysand close behind them.
The three of them made their way quickly through the house to Azriel's door. It was open as they had left it and Nesta was standing inside next to the bed, waiting. She had heard their footsteps approaching. She walked to Cassian's side, his arm finding it's way around her waist as Rhysand approached the bed. Talia hovered near the door, watching Nesta and Cassian, how he relaxed into her touch, how her eyes changed when they met his. Cassian never seemed lesser when he entered a room alone, but next to her, he seemed ....more. Rhysand turned and met her eyes so she made her way to his side.
"Feyre will be here soon. She's bringing some lunch." He paused. "There's something I'm going to try, to work my way around these walls." He motioned to where Azriel lay. Talia realized his palms still faced the ceiling. He looked like he had just dropped out of the sky and landed there. "I need to be alone to concentrate."
Talia nodded without looking away from the bed. "I understand." Finally, she turned away and looked to the couple behind them. "Come with me?" They nodded and followed her out. It was hard for her to leave, if for no other reason that she wanted to know as soon as possible if Rhysand's new plan had worked. They went to the great hall and silently took their seats in the sitting area. Nesta leaned her head on Cassian's shoulder, no small talk to be made. Talia's mind wondered as they waited, not knowing how long Rhysand might take. Her life felt so short next to these males, to the experiences they had lived through, but the females around her were young. Her age. She wondered what it was like to be loved by someone who had seen and learned so many things over centuries. She had been around Rhysand and Cassian long enough to catch a glimpse through that intimidating exterior, to a place where they revealed themselves as kind. Approachable, even. She could imagine that Azriel was the same, that he would carry himself with such power, those feared shadows floating around him, but that off the battlefield he could do little to hide the male underneath. A stoic and gentle Fae who had already revealed those bits of himself to her in their one conversation. She knew shadowsingers carried a certain reputation, his no different, but it didn't define the male beneath the title. She pulled herself back to the present. He had wanted to pull her from that prison himself, she knew that now, but once he was well, if he got well, she had no idea where she would go. He had offered her refuge here and Rhysand meant to make good on that, but she wasn't sure she could stay, or if they would want her to. Or if they would even think of her again once the job was done. One way or the other. Feyre distracted her as she landed outside, her wings disappearing as she walked through the room to where they sat. She was carrying a basket full of food and handed each of them a sandwich before sitting.
"How is it going?" she asked, her face serious. Talia hesitated to answer but Cassian and Nesta both looked to her expectantly.
"Not....great." she said, realizing she didn't know if the high lady was aware of what had already transpired there earlier in the day. "Rhysand is with him now, trying something he found at Day court." Feyre nodded in response, looking back at the food in her hand. Her face was thoughtful, but Talia could sense the same sadness, the same sense of finality in her as she had the others. In a moment of clarity, the healer could sense the same emotion in herself. Her grandmother had always chided her for reading everyone in the room but herself, for hesitating to look within. Talia knew it usually made things easier but in this moment she realized that it wasn't just her failure looming that was weighing her down, it was the fact that she had gained this glimpse in to a possible future here, in the night court, with these fae as leaders and friends, and that it may all too soon become a dream. A fantasy to be remembered. Not just of living here and communing with the court but of knowing him as he truly is. Not as the bloody warrior she had met that night or the stone still visage she had seen for days, but as he truly was. As he truly is. In her mind, she once again saw him standing before the windows in his room. Healthy. Relaxed. She snapped back to reality at the sound of a door clicking shut down the hall. She could daydream all she wanted but around her sat fae who had real memories with Azriel. Centuries of them. She was fighting for them, too. Her heart quickened as she heard the high lord's steps coming toward them. Was she the only one who could tell how deliberate they were? How slow? She stood, waiting for him to round the corner. Feyre mirrored her. Rhysand rounded the corner with the same calm look she had seen on his face each time they had met since she arrived. A high lord's calm. But behind his violet tinted eyes, the spark had burnt out. His idea hadn't worked. His mate walked past her to meet him, putting one arm around him and kissing him on the lips. He moved past her, taking her hand and leading her back to where they all sat.
"No luck." Was all he said. There was nothing they could do but look back at him, waiting for more, but instead he looked to Talia. "Can we speak?"
She was still standing and did not hesitate. "Of course." Feyre let go of his hand. Instead of walking back down the hall or to his office, he walked out on to the terrace, into the sun and wind, just out of earshot of the others who had turned back to each other and struck up some quiet conversation.
Rhysand sounded so, so serious, masking what Talia guessed was weariness. "I have nothing else to try and with what I was told of this morning, I am guessing we are running out of time." Talia only nodded, her throat feeling like it could form a lump at any moment. "I was hoping to break through the walls or around them, but they aren't like what I'm used to. I can't even touch them."
"The Hex blocks access to the mind, Rhysand, but if we are right about it being an animation Hex then behind those walls it is trying to break him. An animation Hex will work to wear down the mind quicker so that the body gives in sooner." He nodded. He knew that, and it hadn't left his mind, as it hadn't left hers. What horrors had the shadowsinger been facing all this time? Fighting against? The Hex would batter him harder and harder until he gave up, and he had been fighting a long time. It would be ugly.
"I want you to spend the rest of today with him. Take whatever pain you can from him." He had turned to face the city and she did the same. "I need to go and make...preparations." Talia swallowed. She knew what he meant. He would need to lock up the corpse until the Hex ran it's course, he would need it guarded, and he would need to prepare for a funeral after that. A burial as well. She swallowed again, pushing the lump down, down. He turned back to her. "I'm going to take Cassian with me. I want his help. But I want you to keep Nesta and Feyre with you." In case it happens while I'm away. He didn't need to finish. The healer understood. The dream she had had nights ago suddenly filled her mind. It was nothing, it was conjured up by her own mind, but at this point anything was worth a try. He made to walk back to the other group but she called after him.
"Rhysand! Wait." The wind whipped her hair from it's braid and swished her skirt around her ankles. And it kept their words from carrying. "I might have one more idea." His face attempted a hopeful expression but it fell short. He stopped to listen. "I think we can extract part of the Hex to try and find the items."
He took a few steps forward, closing the gap between them. "But we know that won't work. A Hex must have a host."
She looked away from him, back out at the city below, she didn't know how to explain how she knew, but she couldn't not try. She looked back at him. "I know but....I think I have a way to...to trick it. To give us a moment where the Hex doesn't know it's been removed." The words sounded strange coming out, referring to the Hex as if it were another living being.
Rhysand didn't look at all convinced. "That sounds dangerous, Talia. We don't know how it will act outside of Azriel." She didn't answer. Truly, she didn't need his permission, but she wanted his support anyway. She didn't press, letting him think and after a moment he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets with a shrug. "Don't do anything like that without the females in the room with you. If you think it could work, I won't stop you. But Talia" she nodded, waiting. "I didn't bring you here to risk your life. You know that."
Hope burned in her core as she folded her hands and answered in her healer's calming tone, "That is still my decision."
He searched her face before nodding one time in agreement and turning back to the others.
Once the males had left, the three of them made their way to Azriel's room. Talia felt nervous. She was used to working in front of Cassian by now, but the sisters sitting and watching her put her on edge. She knew they were there to help but she didn't want to look like a fool in front of them. And, she didn't really know how to start. What she wanted to do wasn't a spell from a book, it wasn't detailed in any text, it was something she would call up from within herself and she had no way of knowing what the results would be. She had laid her hands on his arm, as she had so many times, checking once again that he was there. He was alive. When she was satisfied, she began pacing beside the bed, thinking about what steps to take first. Finally she looked at Feyre and Nesta, who had barely taken their own eyes off of her since they sat. She would utilize them as she felt Rhysand had intended.
She smiled disarmingly, sheepishly, even. "I don't really know where to start." They nodded, almost in unison. "Could we find some towels and a container of some kind, like a jar." She made a motion as though she were screwing a lid on to something. "Something air tight."
Nesta and Feyre both stood. Feyre smiled back at Talia softly, letting her know they weren't worried and would do whatever she needed. The healer relaxed a bit. This was it. Her one chance. "Of course." Was all Feyre said, the two exiting and leaving Talia alone again. She walked over to the side of the bed and climbed up next to Azriel. She gently turned over his left arm and reached across his body to flip the right one as well so that they lay peacefully atop his blankets as they had before. She wanted all evidence of that morning erased. She needed to be able to focus and she felt confident in her ability to do so, even though she caught herself watching closely for any motion at all in the shadowsinger.
"You have to wake up." She found herself whispering to him once again. "You have to survive this." Without thinking, she placed a hand on his cheek. It was ice cold. She had known he was suffering since she arrived but knowing it was animation, knowing what he was enduring now, in his mind.....she desperately wanted to end it for him. To take it from him. To bring him back to this peaceful place. She could heal his body but he would have a long road of healing ahead that she could not take care of for him. At least he would be surrounded by this family that loved him. She could hear the others returning and she removed her hand from his face and laid it in her lap, keeping her place next to him on the bed. They walked in and laid the items she had asked for next to her. They flanked her, ready to intervene however they might need to. Healer's spells were not like witch's spells or the spells Feyre had used to shorten Talia's dresses. They required the healer to retreat within themselves and allow their own basic biology to take over and instinctually perform what needed to be done. Most of them were so basic that it took little time and effort but this one would be different. Since Talia wasn't familiar with the spell or it's requirements, she would need to give fully over to her healer self. Let it take control. At the same time, she would need the use of her hands and eyes to open the jar Feyre had laid next to her and capture whatever she extracted. It was a tricky balance. And once they had the Hex contained, if they had the Hex contained, what would they do? They would cross that bridge when they came to it. She had removed parasites before and she intended to treat this the same while trying to pull some of the magic with it and manipulate it to keep the Hex feeling the proper host. She opened the jar and held it in one hand, laying her other hand on Azriel's arm above the elbow where the blackness was obvious beneath his skin. She closed her eyes and focused. This time, as she reached her healer's hands in, instead of looking for wounds to close, they sought the blight itself. She focused solely on their strength and solidity as they reached for that swimming, inky darkness that consumed the inside of him. They reached for the Hex and grasped on. They could have done this before, of course, but to no end. This time it would be different, she would have to rely on a part of herself she didn't know, a part she had only just met a few nights ago. As they held to the sickness, Talia sent a third hand toward it, grasping for that wispy magical lifeline running through it. It took what felt like minutes, hours, to finally grasp it and once Talia had a hold of it, she pulled. She pulled with all she had. It felt like a violent motion but she barely shifted as slowly, slowly, she pulled her hand from his arm, extracting a long, black stream of what could only be described as darkness itself. She knew the Hex was only contained to itself because it's magical line was intertwined with it. It was working. She didn't have time to look at the females hovering next to her for their reaction. She guided the floating mass as it twisted and twined around itself into the jar in her other hand, closing it tightly. She turned and stepped down on to the floor, never taking her eyes off of it. She could hear Azriel breathing behind her, fine for now. The thing continued moving around in the jar, seeming to hold it's form. Talia stared at it for a moment longer, amazed at what she had done. Never had she tried anything like that, healing was so physical for her, so biological, but she had forced a part of herself out to grasp the magical, too. She looked up to see the other two staring at her.
"How did you do that?" Feyre asked, her voice barely louder than a whisper.
"I....I don't know." Talia answered, just as quiet. They both looked back at the jar.
"Now what?" Nesta asked.
Talia opened her mouth to speak but as she did, the piece of Hex she had encased twisted on itself violently and exploded, painting the inside of the jar in black droplets. Talia jumped but didn't dare let it slip from her hands. As the droplets ran down the inside of the jar, they disappeared. So then, it had not succeeded. Not completely anyway. The three females looked at each other, saying nothing as Talia turned to try again. Again, she succeeded and again the didn't have time to do anything with the Hex before it destroyed itself. She went to the closet and pulled a dagger from the back of the door. She made a small cut along Azriel's palm, careful to catch any drips on the towel Feyre had brought and letting a small amount fall into the jar. She healed the cut and then pulled at the Hex again. It was getting finnicky, more difficult to grasp. Holding a physical part of Azriel in the jar didn't seem to help, again it destroyed itself before it could be utilized. After a few hours of attempting various things, Feyre put her hand on Talia's shoulder before she stepped up on to the bed.
"Come and sit for a minute." She said. "Rest." Talia hesitated but obeyed. They needed a new approach anyway, this, as Rhysand had suggested, was not going to work. As she walked the short distance to the sofa, she realized her legs felt like jelly. She sat and folded her hands in to her skirts to stop their shaking. She told herself it was because of the cold coming from the shadowsinger. She was wearing herself out. Tears of frustration burned behind her eyes. She closed them, hoping they would stay dry.
Nesta sat next to her and said to neither of them in particular, "I've never seen healing power like this."
Feyre answered, "Neither have I. Not even Thesan." Talia opened her eyes and looked at Feyre curiously. "Thesan is high lord of Dawn court. His gift is healing, and I received some of that." She looked down at her hands. "I received a part of all the high lords," Talia didn't press for further information. Maybe later, when this was all over, she would ask the high lady more of her past. "But my healing is so basic. How would you describe it? Your powers, I mean." she looked at Talia who had leaned back, letting herself relax for a moment.
"It's like a second being that lives in me. For basic healing, I don't even notice, but for things like this," She looked straight ahead at where Azriel lay still on the bed. "I have to go deep inside of myself and let my healer self take over. Her hands do the work." Talia raised her hands in front of her and turned them over, examining them. "It's hard to explain." The females nodded, no further questions. Talia's hands had stopped shaking. She stood and took a glass from the bedside table, pouring from a pitcher that mysteriously seemed to stay full and cool. She drank the entirety before setting the glass down and facing the bed again.
"I need to keep trying." She expected protesting, she prepared to ignore them, but none came.
She climbed back to her spot on the bed, sitting close to his body. She didn't care, she needed to give as much of herself to him now as she could, to close the space between them both physically and mentally. She placed both hands on him now, preparing to search for that black flow again, to let her healer's hands do their work. She closed her eyes and hung her head as she always had, sending herself in. This time, instead of watching herself work as usual she began to vividly see a memory.
In her human village, Talia had grown a huge soft spot for the children, putting herself at great risk of discovery to care for each of them as best she could, and in this cold, poor village, she had to often. Talia had been wildly experimental back then, feeling safe behind the watchful eye of her grandmother, she had tried anything that came to mind. Once, she had dealt with a boy who had eaten a poison plant by accident and had fallen deathly ill. Talia knew that what could kill a human would do little to her full fae body and she had nearly drowned in the desire to take it from him, even a little bit, to ease the burden, to give his tiny body a chance to fight for itself. She had closed her eyes and sent those healing hands in, struggling to focus on the right area, to do anything to ease his suffering. She had tried and tried to pull at it, to grasp it, but she had failed. Finally, knowing she could force blood to flow in a certain direction, and knowing that blood was the clearest avenue to any sickness, she had convinced the mother to leave them alone, she made a cut on the boy's palm and a cut on her own, binding them together with a piece of cloth. She forced the blood to flow from the boy into her own body as her healer hands guided the sickness in to herself. She had then healed the cuts, puked once, twice, and then sat and watched as the boys fever lessened and he awoke, looking around for his mom. She felt inside, finding most of the poison and the sickness brought with it had disappeared. From that point she performed what she called "sharing the load" many times, any time she could convince a parent to leave her alone with their child. Or elderly parent. Or sick spouse. She bound herself to them to heal what their bodies could not. She found that if the person's life force came into her body, that second self, her healer self, could handle the sickness significantly better, and even if it made Talia sick, it lessened the load on the patient. She could remove a parasite, another living thing, but this required part of the person's life force to work. She had tried other ways, simply attempting to bleed out the illness by guiding, but it didn't work. Not the same. Performing the binding spell actually pulled a part of the sick person into Talia, not just their blood, but their essence, where she could heal it and give it back. It was a skill she knew was not typical of healers from her studies in Hybern and so she pushed it down, forcing herself to forget it, to disbelieve it, so that she could not accidentally give it away and risk having it used against her or for some greater evil.
"Talia?" she heard someone's voice as if it were far away, echoing through walls and rooms and down hallways. She awoke, suddenly slamming back into her own present mind, as Nesta lay her gently down on the sofa, both of the females kneeling next to her trying to determine if she was alright. She propped herself up on her elbows, fear gripping her throat and stopping any words from coming out. What happened? She swallowed a few times, lying back down on to the pillows behind her.
"What happened?" she finally got out.
"You were fine and then you just passed out." Nesta answered, straightening, and looking to Azriel for signs of trouble. She found none and turned back.
"We have to stop for now." Feyre said. "You need to get some strength back."
Slowly, her head spinning, Talia sat up crossing her legs and hugging one of the pillows to her chest. She didn't speak as Feyre also stood and went to check on the shadowsinger, Nesta pacing between the sofa and the bed.
"Cassian and Rhysand should be back soon." She said, again to no one in particular.
Talia couldn't stop replaying the memory in her mind. The one she had forced so far down, it had taken this to recover it. Her dream had tried to show her but she had forced it in a different direction, failing over and over until she had drained herself. Could she do it? She had never performed something like that on anyone but a human. She didn't know what binding with a fae could do, let alone what pulling a Hex addled bloodstream in to her own would accomplish. A Hex had to be in it's own host, but this spell, this sharing the load was truly Talia pulling a bit of the sick subject's self in to her own body to heal. It was more than just recycling blood, it was truly melding with her patient to use her powers to their extent. Her head kept spinning until she shakily got up and walked across the room to the bathroom, barely thinking to shut the door behind her before kneeling before the toilet and puking what little she had left in her stomach. She stayed for a moment, waiting for another wave of nausea to hit her. Healing could be tiring, but she had never pushed herself this far. She had never needed to.
"Talia? You okay?" She heard a gentle voice outside the door.
She tried to speak but again it caught in her throat. She coughed once before griding out, "I'm okay." The female at the door padded away. Talia stood and looked into the mirror over the sink. She was pale. Paler than usual, dark circles wringing her wary green eyes. Thin beads of sweat spackled her forehead. She wiped them away with her sleeve and washed her hands in warm water, willing them back to a regular temperature. Even if there was a chance she could succeed, could she do it in this state? But she wouldn't need to bind with Azriel to heal him, only to consume a part of him, to invite the Hex into herself, and she would only need to hold on to consciousness long enough to map out the items' location. And then, when they were destroyed, the Hex would be destroyed, leaving both of them. And if she didn't survive that long, it didn't matter, because at this point it was safe to hope that he might. When she was steady on her feet again, she exited the bathroom to Cassian and Rhysand standing, arms crossed, speaking to their mates. They all looked at her across the room and she was flushed with embarrassment at the state she now knew she was in. But she steadied her breath and limped toward them. As she approached, Rhysand opened his mouth to speak but she beat him to it.
"I have one more idea. Something I had pushed down to keep Hybern from accessing, and I remembered it just now, as I...fell asleep." Her voice trailed off at the end, knowing she had fully passed out on the bed, not dozed off. She already felt the need to sit down. She approached where they stood and leaned against the foot of the bed. They all stood still, listening, the male's arms remaining crossed. As she looked up at them to speak, she could feel a calm, an acceptance, in Rhysand and Cassian. She guessed that whatever they had spent the last few hours doing, they had leaned on each other greatly and spoken at length in support of one another. It warmed her, seeing that. She knew that if Azriel made it through, then they could support him in the same way. "The healer's spell I performed today came to me in a dream, I think to remind me of what I just mentioned. What I had hidden." She too crossed her arms, suddenly anxious about their reactions. Rhysand raised his eyebrows in surprise but no one spoke so she continued. "But it wasn't quite right. It worked better than what I could have thought to do before the dream, but it didn't work all the way. What I remembered just a few minutes ago was from a time when I was healing humans, experimenting a lot with my newfound gift. I learned I could perform a sort of...binding. With the sick person. That I could mingle their blood with mine and...." She wrestled with the proper way to define it. "...and split the burden. I could ease the burden of their sickness, taking some of it into me to lighten their load, allow their bodies to heal."
"Healers can't pull the sickness from a fae...." Cassian said, confusion resting on his tired features.
"I know." She took a breath. "If they could, I would have done it by now. But this is different. It's not an extraction, It's not a bleeding, it's....." she held up her hands in front of her and intertwined her fingers. "It's my self and theirs coming together, not that I take the sickness itself out or into my body, but I share the load."
"How did you discover this..." Rhysand motioned with one hand, struggling for an accurate description. "This ability."
"Like I said, I experimented a lot. There was this boy who had accidentally poisoned himself and I had done all I could for him but nothing was really helping. I thought maybe if his poisoned blood went into me then I could heal it faster somehow and it worked. I didn't truly understand what was happening until maybe a year later, a little girl with a fever high enough to cause these awful nightmares and hallucinations was brought to me by her mother, I convinced her to leave me alone with the girl. When I was bound to her, I was suddenly seeing her hallucinations too, as if they were mine. It was strange, it scared me, but it revealed more to me about what was truly going on." Talia dropped her hands, looking at the tired faces before her, knowing hers matched. They may not even believe her. She hoped they were wondering what else they had to lose, just as she was. She glanced outside. The sun was beginning to set. Good. Darkness suited the mood hanging over them.
Rhysand dropped his arms, slowly sliding his hands in to his pockets. "So you want to...bind...to Azriel, and try to take on his Hex. To share the load."
She nodded. "But not to heal, just to give us time to track down the items. Find those, burn them, the Hex leaves us both."
"Or," he countered, his voice grim. "I have two animated corpses to deal with." So he believed it could work. He could see the same scenario she could, that her power in this case, in this spell, would keep the Hex with it's host. Technically. So much else could go wrong. But they only needed a moment for it to work. Rhysand looked to the other three fae, a silent command to leave them so they could speak alone. When they had gone, he stepped closer to her for emphasis. "Talia, this is too dangerous. I can't...." he shook his head. "I don't think I can allow it." She opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off. "I know. I know it's your choice but this....this is suicidal. And for what." It wasn't a question but an indication that Rhysand, like Cassian, was ready for all of this to be over.
"I came here to do a job." She answered, her voice was quiet, tired, but carried an air of confidence. "I came here to perform a service for you, and to repay a kindness..." she looked at the shadowsinger over her shoulder. "If I do not truly do all that I can, then I have truly failed." She slowly looked back to Rhysand, his face contemplative. He was weighing the risks versus the possibility that this could work. And the possibility that it could work relied on the dream of a healer possessing skills he had never heard of and her ability then to control them. He was weighing whether her death would be worth the chance to save his brother. An unfair question that would never have a right answer. If it worked and she died, Azriel would have to live with the fact that she gave her life for him in the end, that Rhysand had asked her to do it. Let her do it. "Please." Her voice brought him back to the moment. He began to pace in front of her, not daring to let the fire of hope rekindle. Not yet.
Finally, he stopped and nodded. "Okay. Tell me what you need."
(Word Count: 7827)