For ten minutes, the only sound in the deep core cave was the gentle, rhythmic hum of the suspended sphere and the sound of Mira’s breathing.
Ren sat on the dark rock platform beside her, his back propped against a selenite pillar, his fingers lightly wrapped around his sister’s left hand. His body was wracked by the familiar, heavy ache that always followed a dual-manifestation. But his mind was peaceful. A stillness deeper and calmer than any he had known since the forge collapsed in Oakhaven three years ago.
Mira sat up slowly, brushing a strand of dark hair from her forehead with her left hand.
She didn’t flinch. She didn’t reach for her ribs with that gut, guarded terror that had haunted her every movement for six months.
The warm stone air in the cave was fully still, smelling of clean salt and ozone.
Ren knelt on the platform, his forehead resting against Mira’s left shoulder, his hands trembling with the deep, exhausting aftershock of the dual-manifestation. His forearm veins were mottled with dark, fading purple bruises, but the burning fever had broken. The surrounding salt water mist was already soothing his scorched skin. It drew the systemic heat out of his marrow.
