Night had well and truly fallen when I left the Healer's tent, plunging the world into darkness. Beyond High Valley's glimmering shroud, thick clouds smothered the stars, and small, frozen flurries danced on the bitter breeze. Flashes of light rippled across the mists as shockwaves and residual magic buffeted the valley.
"Xiviyah, please, you don't have to do this," Rylam said, hurrying to keep up with me. "You've fought your battles. You've suffered enough. We'll find a way through this without you risking yourself."
I stopped, looking at him. "How?"
Despite the near foot between us, he took a step back.
"I don't know," he admitted, rubbing his arm. "I just don't like the thought of you getting hurt."
I smiled faintly, clasping my hands. "Well, so that you know, neither do I. But Rylam, the church is here for me. I don't want you getting hurt, or anyone else on my behalf."
He opened his mouth, but I held up a finger.
