The Forgotten Light

59. Fairlight

Kendra?

Her friend lay quietly leaning against her with her eyes closed.

"Please, talk to me."

But the girl remained silent, and the only thing that moved was her hand that fell inertly to the ground.

"No, Kendra, no..."

She rocked her in her arms, hot tears ran down her face, and the thoughts in her head raged, trying to do everything to make Kendra open her eyes, to make the terrible wound heal, to make her take a breath again, to make her heart beat again.

Somewhere in the distance the courtyard door slammed, and Thandor's voice sounded as if from the bottom of a well, "Darksen! There you are at last. You really know when to show up."

Fairlight lifted her gaze to the Prince, and probably if she still had enough strength, she would have noticed with surprise the stillness in which he stood and the sheer terror written all over his face.

"What's going on?" he finally asked, trying to sound normally.

The King pushed himself away from the wall and stood next to his son.

"Perhaps I overestimated her abilities. Since she was unable to save her dearest friend, I guess that means she really can't heal wounds. Therefore, ask her who healed her, if not herself. Being half Invicta may speed up wound healing and recovery, but certainly not to such an extent. I don't believe in any of this doctor's potions either."

She felt stunned; images blurred before her eyes, words and sounds echoed in her head.

She was already indifferent to everything.

Darksen had no other choice. He looked at her, giving special attention to her arm, which was free of the silentium bracelet. If he thought that because of this she could now easily resist the power of his words...

"How did you heal your wounds?" he asked.

... then he had miscalculated even more than his father had. She no longer had the strength for anything, but because the command in his voice was so strong, the required answer came out of her on its own.

And all it took was one word.

"Keiran."

Resigned, she closed her eyes and lowered her head, resting her forehead on Kendra's forehead. Hoping for a miracle, she still imagined her happy smile, the sparkle in her lively eyes, her gentle, agile hands.

"Wake up, wake up," she repeated. "It is you the world needs, not me. You are the one who can heal it, not me."

But it was too late.

Kendra was never to wake up again.