Perhaps she was Senna’s friend after all. But even as Mistin reached out an arm to the Guardians, Senna knew it was futile. When the island disappeared, a wave would rise up. All the ships would be swallowed by the raging sea. She hadn’t saved them. She’d only delayed their deaths.
Always serve the higher law. Reden had told her that. Choose what is hardest now, but better in the long run. Closing her eyes tight, Senna turned away. As brave as Joshen, she mouthed to herself. As brave as Reden. She concentrated on the barrier. The Haven Witches hadn’t stopped singing since they’d created it. It was strong enough now. Her song changed.
Haven, raise thy stakes.
Winds, a path to make.
Earth, compact thy soil.
Plants, thy roots uncoil.
Waters, thy waves divide.
Take us to a home we can abide.
The light that had gathered under her skin shot out, striking the barrier, which flashed with such brilliance she had to shield her eyes. When she looked back down, there was only a gaping, concave hole. Her skin no longer glowed. Her voice felt broken.
A great wall of water trembled, hesitating as if feeling for the walls that were no longer there. Then it rushed forward with a roar, dragging the unfortunate ships with it. And she was in the epicenter. She realized the water would reach the heart and explode upward, toward her.
Wind, lift me higher!
The wind tugged her up even as the sea surged beneath her. Senna threw her arms over her face. Water slammed into her, tossing her like a child throwing a doll.
It slowly began to fall back. Gasping, Senna sang for the wind to keep her afloat, but her voice was raw and overused. The power she’d wielded had left her bereft and hollow.
She was slipping, the wind’s hold on her lessening. Looking down at the chaos of sinking, burning boats and the debris-filled sea, she tried in vain to locate her Guardians, but it was impossible.
The air grew thinner and weaker by the moment. Senna tried to claw her way up. The speed of her descent picked up until she was freefalling. She would join so many who had died this day. Like Cord. He’d given his life to save her.
But that wasn’t all he’d given her—the vial of Ioa! She fished it out of her pocket and dumped it down the front of her face. Gripping the vial so tight her fingers turned white, she sang with what little strength remained in her.
She flailed her hands and legs, trying to slow her descent toward the freezing cold Endall sea.
As the choppy waters rose up to meet her, she threw the bottle and twisted so she was feet first. She screamed as she hit the water. Her bones cracked, whether from the impact or the potion, she wasn’t sure. Then her flesh shifted. She didn’t know if she would change soon enough, or if the change would be enough to save her.
Then it no longer mattered. Something pierced her hip, and pain ripped through her. The world went dark.
34. Waiting Blackness
Senna awoke to grit against her cheek. Something tugged her back and forth. She hurt everywhere. Dimly, she recalled reaching Nefalie’s coast just before passing out. With a groan, she opened her eyes. The water and rocks beneath her were red with blood. Her blood. Debris and worse littered the shore around her. She tried to push herself up. White-hot pain shot out from her hip.
Steeling herself, she tried again to push herself up, but she was so cold her muscles simply locked up.
A huge swell crashed over her, shoving her higher onto the shore. Gasping in pain, she dug her fingers into the rocks to keep from being dragged back out with the retreating wave. When the sun had warmed her a little, she pulled herself a bit farther out of the water. The movement caused the pain to gnaw at her anew, and everything faded away.
Her senses returned after a time. She carefully shifted so she could see her hip. What she saw made her stomach roll. Through what little remained of her shift, she saw the garish white of her hip joint, skin and muscle hanging around it like the tattered ends of a flag, the flesh bleached white from sun and salt.
Hissing through her teeth, she locked her legs together and dragged herself forward, waited for the agony to lessen, then pulled some more. She wasn’t sure how many times she repeated this process, but finally she was out of the water.
The movement had caused the wound to bleed again. Senna ripped off a strip of her shift and pressed it into the wound. The world started spinning as blackness edged in from the outside of her vision. She was going to pass out again. Knowing she was on the verge of bleeding to death, she dug her wound into the rocks below her to compress it.
For a time, she was insensible with pain. She came around a bit when she threw up salt water. Her tongue felt as dry as week-old bread. She lay back, wishing for darkness to take her from the pain. When she opened her eyes again, she had to squint against the warm sun that had baked the cold out of her, and somehow made her hip hurt so much she thought she would die from it. She struggled to sit up, but she was so weak she barely shifted. The pain drove her toward the waiting blackness.