A crow's caw jolted Lina awake. Leaves stuck to her cheek, sticks pressed into her shoulder.
She groaned and pushed herself to a sitting position.
'How did I get here?'
Leaves whirled through the forest, crackling as they brushed together. The damp scent of moss and earth hung heavy in the air—laced with something sharp, like magic after a storm. The only forest near Stonecross lay along the border with another country.
Lina clutched her head as the woods spun. Her fingers tangled in her hair. When she pulled free, she screamed.
Dried blood caked her hands. The trees loomed as she pushed to her feet.
Swaying, she stared at her bloody hands and dress. Her dress gaped at the sword wound in her ribcage.
With shaking hands, she felt the wound. Broken gasps escaped as she remembered dying.
She'd drowned in her own blood.
The wound was gone.
Completely.
She'd gone to the town mage—to ask about the voice, the sentinel—he'd—
Her vision narrowed. She collapsed like a doll.
'I'm dead. I should be dead. I died.'
Lina hugged her knees and rested her head on her knees.
'You're alive.' Relief threaded through his voice.
'I think so.'
'I thought he killed you. You died.'
Lina shuddered.
'I felt you die,' he whispered.
His breath hitched, like the memory of it still hurt.
Pain spiked through her thoughts, sharp enough to steal her breath.
'I knew they killed magic users outside the mage guild. I didn't think my magic would affect you,' his voice faded.
Her skin felt too cold against her own hands.
She released her legs and folded her hands, grounding herself in the moment.
'I'm alive... It's all right,' she soothed.
'How?'
'I don't know.'
'Your wounds?' he asked and held his breath.
'Healed.'
'Thank the goddess.'
She laughed, 'Necromancers don't bring people back like this.'
Reanimated corpses keep their wounds. Lina winced at her poor joke.
How would she go back to the inn? Fin might help her. But what if Arystelle told him what happened to her? Then again, would they admit to executing her without a trial?
'I'd hate to see you walking around with a sword wound in your chest.'
Lina stilled. Could she be dead… if he could still joke?
'...that shouldn't have...'
'What's wrong?' she asked.
'I don't—I can't remember. I don't know.'
'Why do you sound hurt?' she asked.
Silence stretched.
She had died.
And all her wounds had healed.
'What do I call you?'
Painful breathing crossed their bond.
Lina hugged her knees, pressing her cheek against them.
'Let me help you… through this.'
'Raithe,' he mumbled.
'Raithe,' she repeated, rolling his name around on her tongue in the woods.
The sun crested the horizon. The world kept moving, as if nothing had happened. She closed her eyes, steadied her nerves, and turned to more pressing matters.
'How were you hurt?'
'...you said your name was—'
Lina stilled.
Was she so easy to forget? Her throat ached with the urge to cry.
'I'm sorry, I can't—'
'Lina,' she said.
'Lina,' he replied.
'How long have I been... asleep?' Lina asked.
'Four days...' Raithe said.
'Four days...'
'Don't leave me again,' Raithe ordered.
She sat up to retort.
'I can't lose you.'
Lina choked on her words. Her heart thundered out of her chest at Raithe's intensity.
'Elinora,' he repeated over and over.
"Raithe, what happened to you?" she asked the empty forest.
A sudden chill prickled along her spine. For a heartbeat, the scent of iron and cold stone overwhelmed the air, so vivid she staggered. At the edge of her mind, Lina glimpsed a figure curled in darkness—his breath ragged, pain bleeding through their bond.