When Tif returned to the seeker’s tent--her zumai proudly thrust into the lush gray sash Oliak had given her--Yulit the mender was waiting.
Seeing the spidra in her dress of charcoal and blue, Tif seriously considered leaving the camp right then and there. She had gotten Death-made weapons and learned more about their beliefs; a productive day all-in-all, and now it was obviously time for her to go. However, the eye on the side of the Yulit’s head spotted her, and the mender wasted no time turning her way. She even raised her upper right arm to gesture Tif forward, which, having been found, Tif went along with, putting one foot in front of the next while her mind raced for answers she could give.
“Tif’Sha,” the spidra said when Tif was nearer. “You haven’t been to see me again.” There was clear reproach in the way she tilted her chin down as she said the words, along with just a touch of disappointment that had Tif squirming.
“I haven’t remembered anything, not really. So I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Bother me? When I asked you to come?” Yulit touched a hand to her heart. “Tif’Sha, I’ve been worried about you. Would it have been so hard to check in with me?”
“...No,” Tif said, looking at her booted feet. Tif was sure that the mender must also be a mother--the guilt she wielded was too well practiced.
“I understand your fear,” Yulit said, her tone as gentle as the touch of a falling leaf. “What if the memories you find are not to your liking? What if some of them never return to you? Who will you be without them, you ask yourself. But you are not alone in this journey. We are all here,” the spidra used her lower arms to gesture wide and then reached out to Tif with her upper left hand. “We are all connected.” Her palm landed on Tif’s chest, and Tif felt the sensation she had weeks ago come to associate with Death. However, whereas before she had always thought of it as a loss, now the numbness that bled across her skin seemed to free the rest of her to hear what the mender was saying. Tif wasn’t sure if that change in perception was because she had grown used to her unfeeling right arm or because of how Yulit’s four dark eyes held her attention. Tif also wasn’t sure if the sensation in her breast meant that the mender was delving her again.
Yulit confirmed as much when she lifted her hand with a frown. “I do not sense anything new in you, but there is no reason to despair. The name of your bondmate will come, along with everything else. Of this, I am sure.” The mender sounded so determined as she said the last part, like Oliak was about the zumai, it made Tif even more uncomfortable.
A group of spidra knights happened by, their own bondmates close behind so that the smoky, woven cords of ris that connected each pair were only a few feet long. Not a one bothered looking Tif’s way. Apparently being seen to by a mender in the middle of the street was a common occurrence--that or even warriors like them didn’t want to risk interrupting.
Tif didn’t blame them.
“Worry is touching you,” Yulit said. “How can you let it with such power watching over us?” The mender pointed left and up with two hands, and Tif turned in the direction, only to choke back a gasp.
A giant Death Aspect stood at the edge of the encampment, and Tif discovered when she tracked her eyes up its great length that it was indeed looking downward at them. Had it been that way all this time? She hadn’t noticed the enormous gray figure because the shadow it cast was nearly the same as the tall trees that surrounded the hold. Seeing it now though, Tif felt a chill everywhere but her right arm. Being amongst the enemy of Lercel was one thing, but their freakishly huge Aspects were another entirely.
The mender continued, her tone reverential. “Beside its glory, a lost memory is but a small hindrance and surely something we can overcome. Do you not agree?”
It was all Tif could do not to run and hide inside the seeker’s tent, because even though it was surely ridiculous, she was convinced the Aspect was looking right at her.
“You’ve thought of something,” Yulit said. “What?”
“I just…” Tif wetted her lips, trying to focus on the mender and not the attention she felt coming from above. “...hope I chose correctly. With Oliak.”
“Ah, your zumai,” the spidra said, her side eyes looking downward while her front two stayed on Tif in a decidedly disconcerting manner. “And did your search with Oliak rekindle anything in you? A feeling? A sensation? The smallest spark can be the key to unlocking the mind.”
Tif had the clear impression that if she just kept saying “no” to Yulit, despite the mender’s claims of support and togetherness, the spidra would drag Tif in front of someone who would discover the truth. Maybe it would be the handsome armored human or someone else with his skill, but no matter who it was, neither she nor Pep believed she’d be lucky enough to get away twice. That meant Tif needed to come up with something, anything, now.
“I…remembered punching.” Tif had practiced kicking in Lercel, too, but she could punch while sitting on the ground waiting for a das opponent or even when lying on her back before sleep. She knew it wouldn’t make much sense, punching with a weapon, but it was the truth, or the closest she could get to it, and Tif was too wary of whatever powers the spidra might have to lie outright.
Yulit’s eyes lidded slightly and then she nodded. “That would explain your choice of cestus. Few pick them, as they are a detriment from a distance and not nearly as deadly up close as a blade. However, you hit harder while sacrificing next to nothing in speed. A fitting zumai for someone who prefers the purity of fighting with their body.”
Tif hadn’t known the name of the leather gloves woven with metal discs she had chosen; Oliak had just handed them to her with great care and said that she would use them during the hunt on the morrow--a hunt that up until a few moments ago, Tif had considered staying to be a part of.
Now she had other plans.
“If that will be all, mender,” she said, turning away. Tif made it a full step before a hand landed on her shoulder. No numbness accompanied the touch this time, but Tif almost wished it had because if she couldn’t feel, maybe the continued deception would be easier. She schooled her expression and looked back at the spidra. “Yes?”
Yulit watched her closely. “I feel we are on the precipice of discovery, Tif’Sha. Do you feel it, coiling in you, waiting to get out?”
“I’m sure I do,” Tif said. She certainly felt something coiling, but it was in her gut not her mind.
Yulit nodded again, as if something had just been decided between them. “I will visit you in the morning, before the sun has risen and your duties begin. Pray to the Aspect, and perhaps tomorrow you shall return to us the person you were.”
That sealed it. Tif was leaving tonight. She managed to keep her face neutral though as she thanked the mender for her time, bowing at the waste in respect.
As soon as Yulit was gone, Tif spun around, fast-walking the remaining distance to the seeker’s tent. If she hadn’t been so near already, Tif would have simply left without getting her dagger and old clothes, but it was only a few strides away, and with the rest of her supplies lost, she should bring what she could.
Her hand was on the tent flap when another familiar voice called her name
“Tif’Sha?”
Tif raised her eyes to the sky in frustration, saw the looming Death Aspect and quickly looked back down. Of all the times…
She turned away from the opening to find Dalia standing behind her. The spidra was clad in black armor like before but wore a shy grin and held up two sticks, each with four whitish balls of something that had been drizzled in a dark syrup.
“I thought we might walk together,” the young spidra said. “I brought some upo,” she added, holding the sticks up.
Tif could claim tiredness but she knew she didn’t look it--not after the scare the mender and Aspect had given her--and there was still at least an hour of sunlight left, so saying she was going to bed wouldn't be any more believable. Probably faster to agree and have it done with than leave the spidra wondering why she had refused her company, especially if Dalia later happened to see Tif leaving the encampment.
“Sure.”
Dalia smiled and handed one of the sticks to Tif. Tif gave it an experimental sniff and then pulled the top ball off of the wood with her teeth. The drizzle tasted like tart berries, while the spongy ball was somehow softer than bread with a delicate sweetness that reminded her of milk. All in all it was delicious, and Tif nearly stabbed the inside of her mouth she was so eager to have another bite.
“Good, isn’t it?”
“Wherdu getit?” Tif said around a mouthful of the creamy concoction. If Tif wasn’t leaving, she was confident she could eat at least fifty more--they were so light, she swore they were dissolving on her tongue!
Dalia winked playfully at Tif with her nearest side eye. “Follow me.”
The spidra sauntered off, and Tif quickly caught up, eyeing the full stick Dalia carried now that her own was finished. Thankfully, Pep intervened, reminding Tif that it was rude to covet someone else’s food, especially when that person had given her a dagger. A dagger she wasn’t wearing. Tif dropped slightly back, feeling bad. If only she had collected her things before the spidra had come to see her.
Dalia didn’t comment, walking in silence that Tif couldn’t tell if was companionable or not, nibbling on her upo as if it was the last food she’d ever have. Was the spidra nervous again? Tif had watched awkward courtships like this on the streets of Lercel many times, where someone wanted something but wasn’t sure how to get it.
They turned past a ringing smith platform, the workers there showing no signs of slowing despite the late hour, and Tif decided to give Dalia a helping hand. After all, the sooner the spidra said what she wanted, the sooner Tif could be on her way.
“Did they make the dagger you gave me?” Tif asked, nodding toward the group.
With her right side eye, Dalia didn’t need to turn her head to see what Tif was referring to. “Them? Oh, no. I brought it from home.” There was a pause and then, “I see you don’t need it anymore. I'm sure your cestus will serve you well. They are a...bold choice.”
Tif hadn’t expected everyone to know what her zumai were called or have an opinion about them, but the commentary didn’t make her regret her choice. Knights bore no weapons, so getting a sword or ax or spear hadn’t felt right to Tif, though she could appreciate how beautiful their metalwork was. She had, however, punched people before, and her hand almost always smarted the next day. The padding on the gloves should put a stop to that, and the metal discs had the same gorgeous whorling as other Death-made smithing, not to mention the added oomph they’d give her. Even when she finally had Gold seals Tif could wear them, maybe using an up close style like Opa had in challenges.
So, despite what others might say, Tif was more than pleased with her decision of the zumai. She was disappointed that she wouldn't get to try them against the other seekers during tomorrow’s training before the hunt, but the risk wasn't worth it. She’d just have to practice against a tree or two on her way to Sah’Sah.
At least she’d get some more of that chewy milk cake before she left.
Or so Tif thought. They arrived at a small woman’s stall tucked into the back corner of the encampment, but it turned out she had already sold the last of it. She begged Dalia for forgiveness, doubly so when she realized that Tif was a seeker, and promised to set a special batch aside for them tomorrow.
“Sorry,” Dalia said, as they left the bowing woman behind.
“It’s okay,” Tif said, though the smell of the stall made her mouth water. If nothing else, it was worth coming to Death just to have eaten something as delicious as upo. At least that’s how she felt until she noticed the ten-foot tall wall they were close to on the edge of the camp; a wall that circled the whole hold, which kept Tif trapped inside when she needed to leave. Her eyes skimmed the top of it, along each tree trunk that had been made into points, finding first the break to the east and then to the west, the only exits. And there was the tower in the cent--
Tif’s eyes went back to a section of far off wall. She had sworn for a moment that something had been perched upon it, the same height as the tower. An image of Plumya came to her, and Tif was surprised to find that the idea of reuniting with the fairy wasn’t entirely unpleasant. At least they were on the same side unlike Death--well, sort of. But what she thought she had seen was too big; the fairy would be just a pinprick at this distance, if anything.
“Tif’Sha? Are you okay? We can find something else to eat, if you like.”
Tif looked back at Dalia, finding the spidra watching her nervously, as if the warrior was worried that Tif might leave her. That was something Tif could use to her advantage, because if this was a courtship, Dalia would want to see her happy.
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“Why don’t we walk outside?” Tif suggested.
Dalia frowned at the request. “But we are outside.”
“I mean outside the encampment.” Whether Tif had seen something or not, she needed to escape tonight, and having a spidra help her do that should only make things easier.
Dalia slowed her steps. “That would be dangerous, Tif’Sha. We’re only a few days from Lercel, and the Gold knights patrol. We’re trying to figure out their schedules but we’re not sure yet, not at all. And I haven’t…not since…” The spidra’s voice became more frantic as she spoke, clearly thinking of the bondmate she had lost to just such a patrol.
“I know, I’m sorry,” Tif said--she should have known this was asking too much. “Forget I brought it up.”
Dalia looked like she had more to say on the matter but with an effort she swallowed those thoughts. She then surprised Tif by stepping forward and embracing her, enveloping her in all four arms. It felt like being hugged by two people but the hands weren’t in the right places, and the metal armor was hard to be pressed up again, but besides that, it was rather nice.
“Thank you for understanding,” Dalia said as they parted. She smiled again and then resumed their walk. “I’d like to know about you if I could. What do you enjoy?”
“Upo, obviously.”
Dalia laughed, her good humor bubbling back up. “Obviously.”
Tif was glad to see it, but she also needed to get this conversation over with. “I don’t think that’s what you really want to ask me.”
Dalia blinked at her, clearly surprised by her directness. She turned aside, having to put her face almost completely in the opposite direction to avoid eye contact.
“I…suppose not. I am curious to know more about you, but the truth is…” She looked back, just enough to see Tif from her side eye. “The truth is…I wanted to know more about the trainer you had.”
Tif doubted that was the real reason either and was about to say as much, but a look from Pep made her hesitate. If this was an opportunity to make someone in Death realize the error of her people, she’d be a fool not to take it. But how to start? Not too eagerly, that was for sure.
“Why? Can’t you compare with the other bonded?” Tif was proud of herself for finding a way to use the new word she had learned.
“I tried a bit,” Dalia admitted, “but they all said what I’ve already heard, to honor her purpose and sacrifice, but to let the memory of her be free.” The spidra lowered her voice and glanced side-to-side as if she was afraid of anyone hearing. “But I can’t do that. I can’t just forget who Moli’Sha was to me.”
Tif was glad to see that snarky Mervel and Tredu had been wrong after all--Dalia just wanted someone to talk to, not a bondmate. And if Tif was leaving tonight then this would be their last opportunity, so she needed to make it count.
Tif came in close, linking an arm with the spidra. “What do you feel when you think of Moli?”
Dalia shrugged, looking almost comically helpless as she did, her four arms flopping. “All sorts of things. Happy for the barest instant until I remember she’s gone and then sadness fills me up. She wanted to see the Mirrored City and taste the salt water that runs between the islands there.” Dalia’s many eyes crinkled at the memory. “After, we said we’d stand at the top of Lercel together, on a pile of golden knights we had drained, and look out at the world.” Her smile slipped away. “But that future is gone now and the world keeps moving like she was never here.”
Tif tried to ignore the more troubling of the imagery, asking. “And?” Happiness and sadness were hardly ‘all sorts of things.’ “Anything else?”
“Regret,” the spidra said slowly. “Sometimes I think that’s all I’ll ever feel again.”
In some ways, the way Dalia spoke reminded Tif of Awt. When his parents had been killed by a breach in Lercel’s wall, he had blamed himself more than the Death troops who had caused it. Tif had held him many a night by their dry fountain while he cried, promising himself and her that he would make enough flats that they would never be in danger like that again. He had started working for the underground soon after, and Tif knew that’s why he had pushed himself so hard to rise up through their ranks. She even knew that that was why he had wanted to protect her so badly, but that didn’t give him the right to make the many mistakes he had between them.
What it did mean was that this was familiar territory.
“It will change,” Tif assured her. “It’s like when you cut your hand. At first all you feel is the pain but eventually that stops. Emotions are like that, too, they need time to heal.”
Dalia lifted her gray ris covered arms. “It’s been so long since I’ve felt the pain of flesh I’m not sure I could remember it even if I tried.”
Tif pressed her lips together. She had been rather pleased with that comparison. What would be another example?
Dalia touched her fingers to her body. “Maybe that’s why these feelings within me are so strange. They seem unnatural. But even so, and I know you’ll think me mad, I don’t want to let them go.”
“Because they keep you connected to her, like a Death mark,” Tif said. She was sure she’d found her footing now. “You’d rather suffer than forget.”
Dalia’s chin trembled. “Shouldn't I suffer? If I had been a better warrior, she’d still be here.”
Tif didn’t reply immediately--that wasn’t the direction she had been hoping to take the spidra’s thinking. “If you warred long enough, eventually she would have died. Being better isn’t the solution.” Tif knew she couldn’t tell a Death warrior outright not to fight, but hopefully if she left the possibility open…
“Eventually isn’t the same as now, Tif’Sha. None of us expect to live long. How can we as part of the Great Host? But to lose her on only our second outing? It’s…shameful.”
There was so much wrong there Tif didn’t know what to say. Even a look at Pep didn’t open a new path. She had thought her experience with Awt’s loss as well as her own would be enough to guide the conversation, but now…Tif could tell Dalia that remembering was the important part, like she had in the mender’s tent, but if war was a constant, it was only a matter of time until the spidra lost another bondmate or her own life.
“I don’t deserve these,” Dalia said, indicating her throat. Tif glanced that way and saw Death ris there, the same as most everywhere else on the spidra not covered by armor.
“Why?” Tif asked. Simple seemed the safest choice.
“These are Moli,” Dalia said, dipping her head as if in shame. “The rites of her final sacrifice were carried out this morning.”
Tif’s eyes opened wide. Stories abounded in Lercel about Death tribe feeding their victims to their Aspects and in turn growing their ris power. She hadn’t considered how Death tribe would use their own dead. It seemed that bondmates never truly left each other.
“But I don’t deserve her second sacrifice,” Dalia said, tears slipping from both right eyes that Tif could see. “Not when I could have prevented the first. And--” the spidra sobbed quietly, bringing two hands up, obviously not wanting those around to see her difficulty. “And even though I can’t feel there, I swear the ris burns, like a punishment.” The last was whisper.
Tif kept her arm linked with one of Dalia’s own, completely unmoored. It seemed Death did remember their dead, but in a way she hadn’t expected--though seeing it now, the pieces easily fit. She couldn’t decide if the practice was terrible or beautiful, and either way, Tif was absolutely certain that she had no idea how to comfort the warrior.
They walked in silence for a time, long enough for Dalia’s tears to dry and for the spidra to finally finish her upo. They were only a dozen tents or so away from Tif’s when she spotted gray cords hovering in the air--gray cords that materialized into an all-too-familiar man when he rounded the corner.
This time he was speaking with a pair of spidra, but he held up a hand when he saw Tif and Dalia. The two soldiers stayed where they were as he marched right up to them.
Dalia made a surprised sound and dipped her head in respect; Tif wanted to face the strange man eye-to-eye, but she followed suit to not stand out.
He stopped when he reached them, lingering a moment before speaking. “...Dalia’Shu,” he said, as if the name had just come to him, and Tif immediately wondered if he had delved the spidra to find it. “What are you doing?”
Dalia looked up slightly. “Taking a walk with a new friend, Tif’Sha. She is still recovering from a head injury.”
Tif saw his lip twist, not into a sneer but close. “Who is her mender?”
Dalia seemed taken aback by the question. “Yulit’Shu,” she stammered out.
The man looked at her coldly. “I see.” He talked away, his many cords of ris floating in the air behind him, just as they had the other night. The waiting soldiers hurried to catch up to the man, and Tif found herself watching him stride toward the east gate.
She knew she was missing something in the exchange that had just happened, but wasn’t sure what. Why had he treated Dalia much more harshly at the end of their conversation than the start? Was he displeased that his troops hadn’t figured out who Tif was? Tif had believed him when he said he was letting her stay to spy to then convince the keshe to surrender, but what if he had let her remain to give his troops practice at finding spies? Either result, it was to his advantage.
Strangely, the thought of his cleverness just made Tif want to play a game of das against him.
It was only then that she realized Dalia’s arm was shaking slightly, and she looked over to find the spidra warrior weeping softly, like she had when Tif had first met her.
“Dalia…Shu. What’s wrong?”
“He knows,” Dalia whispered, “knows that I’m not following the advice I’ve been given.”
Tif frowned, trying to follow. It seemed that his uncanny ability with delving was known, but she didn’t get the connection Dalia apparently had.
The spidra saw her look and continued. “He shamed me by asking your mender, when he can see that I’ve been under her care, too, and should have listened to her words instead of being a rebellious child. I never should have come to see you.”
Dalia started to disconnect her arm from Tif’s, but Tif held on. She may have failed to turn a member of Death her way, but she could learn about the enemy.
“How can he use the first seal to know such things?”
“He is Atriat,” Dalia said, as if that explained everything.
“Who?” Tif said. A name alone--though she was glad to finally know it--wouldn’t save her people.
“The Shachon, second only in power to the Shuchon.”
“You have two Chons?”
Dalia stared at her as if seeing Tif for the very first time. “We do.”
Tif heard her own words then and let go of the spidra. You. She had said you, not we. “Thank you for the upo,” she said. “I should get some sleep.”
Tif started walking, and the spidra fell in beside her. Dalia didn’t say why or ask if she could, she just moved, keeping pace. When Tif dared look at her, she saw the face of someone who had nearly figured out the tiles in front of her. And Tif knew the more time Dalia had to think on it, the clearer the truth would become.
Tif sped up, but Dalia matched her stride, walking even closer than before. With night coming on, the hold was swelling with soldiers and a single shout from Dalia would bring them all down on her.
“I’d like you to be my bondmate,” the spidra suddenly said.
“You what? Tif knew this was an important moment, but she didn’t dare stop, not in the middle of the camp as she now was.
“It’s simple, really. I am lacking one, and I know you are not yet bonded. The knife was a bondgift. Surely you knew.”
“I…suspected,” Tif allowed. She needed Dalia to doubt what she had heard long enough to leave Tif alone, just for the night, just for a few hours even.
“It is customary to be delved before the bond,” Dalia continued, as if Tif had agreed to the bonding. “We can do it in your tent. The other seekers can bear witness.”
Tif suddenly had a newfound respect for the spidra. It was a good plan, one that trapped Tif into revealing her truth--assuming Dalia was skilled enough to find it--and then plenty of people around to capture her.
Of course, there was no way in the six depths Tif was going to agree to that.
“That is a…generous offer,” she said instead. “Let me sleep on it, and I’ll tell you my decision tomorrow.”
“What is there to think on?” Dalia pressed, her tone more deadly than anything Tif had experienced with the usually nervous spidra. “This is a great honor, one many would kill for. Stop and ask if your clouded mind makes you hesitate.” She gestured to the people on either side of the lane they walked, humans putting their implements away for the evening, spidra and bonders cleaning their armor and weapons. None were watching them directly, but Tif knew they would all jump if one with ris asked.
The implication was more than clear: if you’re one of us, you won’t refuse. And if you do, you’re not one of us.
“I…” Tif said, “need to make waste.”
Now it was Dalia’s turn to say, “What?”
“The food,” Tif said, stopping and turning the other direction. “I ate before I saw you. And now I’m too full.”
Dalia’s four eyes narrowed, but all she said was, “I’ll come with you.”
All latrines were blessedly placed near the walls and exits so they didn’t stink up the rest of the encampment and so they could be unloaded without a great deal of work. They weren’t directly beside either exit though, but instead next to animals that were stocked, like pigs and sheep, to keep all of the stink in one area.
Growing up in the lows, Tif was used to going anywhere she needed, so the fact that the latrine they approached was an open top platform similar in design to the raised smithies didn’t bother her. What did was that the lack of privacy meant that Dalia could watch her unobstructed the entire time she crouched over one of the holes in the platform.
Tif couldn’t come up with another believable way to get out from under the spidra though, and she didn’t think Yulit or even Oliak would go against the warrior, so there was no point in trying to find either one of them.
Tif calmly walked up the five steps of the platform, thankful that Dalia was at least letting her do this alone. There were a dozen holes cut into the wooden top in two rows of six. Tif walked by the first one not changing her speed at all, so as not to worry Dalia. At the next Tif stopped, stradling the hole with her feet. As she crouched, acting as if she was going to remove her pants, she looked through her legs.
Dalia had her head turned, talking to a human in leather armor nearby. Tif knew Dalia could still see her from her side eye, but Tif also knew that this was as good as it was going to get. From her crouch, Tif dashed across the rest of the platform and jumped off the other side. She cut right, as soon as she landed, toward the west gate.
A cry sounded behind her, and all Tif could hope was that Dalia would be caught between trying to explain what she wanted people to do and chasing after her. The low sun cast long shadows, and loose sheep wandered between the latrine and the wall--fluffy bodies that Tif collided with too often.
Past them, she discovered to her distress that the lane she was on ended before the gate, the wall cutting inward. Tif cursed--of course, they wouldn’t want the livestock wandering out. There was a lane she could turn down to the right, but when she got there, she saw a handful of shapes running her way, so continued onward to where the wall bent.
Reaching it, she tried futilely to use the corner to help to climb the wood, but the angle was too great and her hands slid off the trimmed trunks earning her scraps and some splinters to be sure. To her right was a building made of wood, perhaps another weapons hall like Oliak had taken her to, but there was no door on this side and its planks were no easier to scale than the wall.
If only she still had her Blood ris she could have been over either in moments--what had she been thinking, agreeing to give them to Awt? Over her pounding heart, Tif noticed that there was no more yelling, just the sounds of running feet coming closer, closer.
She turned to face them as the shadows lengthened, trying to decide which might afford her a greater chance of survival, surrendering or fighting free with her zumai. Tif had just started to reach for the leather gloves, when, impossibly, thick fingers closed over her mouth from behind. She grabbed at the hand, trying to pull the fingers back with her own, shouting unsuccessfully into the palm against her lips. When she failed to move the vice-like fingers, Tif tried elbowing whoever was behind her but hit only the wood of the wall, her elbow smarting. However, it had been her Death-ris covered--and thus numb--right arm she had used, so why was she feeling the pain of it? At that question, it was like all the energy Tif possessed was suddenly sucked away. She caught the image of Dalia and others running at her, followed by something red above as her head tilted back, her consciousness falling away from her body, and then…nothing.