Chapter 131

Into that nothingness came a trickle tasting of the freshest river stream. The trickle became a flood, rich and clear and life-affirming.

I came to on the library floor, straddling Rafael, his magic a smudgy pull from a bleeding gash on his forearm. I'd wound it like taffy around the finger that I sucked into my mouth. Bile rose in my throat and I tried to shut the connection down but Rafael clamped on to my wrist, thrusting his arm closer.

His magic ran down the back of my throat, washing away the taste of sandstorm and easing my cravings. There were no red forked branches, no clusters, simply a slowing of his magic back down and then a quiet pop of release as I instinctively unhooked from the scroll's magic, unharmed and sated.

I should have been consumed with horror but my body hummed, the siren song quiet, and the sandstorm already a hazy memory. My ankle didn't even hurt any longer.