Jaime's mind teetered on the edge of blackness, reaching for it as one drowning might reach for the sea floor. He longed for the silence that came just before death, for Elena's voice calling him from dreams, for the phantom lull of her storm. Let me wake… let it be a nightmare…
But his eyes opened, and pain swallowed him whole.
Leather straps bit into his wrists and ankles, holding him down on the healer's cot. His body was a map of wounds carved by no blade he could see, blood pooling beneath him as though spilled from another's veins. His breath rattled shallow. Every shudder, every slice, every violation on Elena's flesh echoed in his own.
Pain proved he was alive. Alive meant chained.
Aurora's hands pressed against his chest, trying to still his thrashing. Señora Behike muttered prayers, her palms red with blood from holding his wounds closed. Their voices were distant, muffled, as if spoken through deep water.
He arched, gasped- and in his vision, the Lion's tongue rasped across Elena's skin. Jaime choked, a raw groan breaking through clenched teeth, though no tongue touched him.
"Elena…" His whisper was cracked, broken. He could barely breathe the name with the invisible gag in his mouth.
The air shimmered. He saw her.
Her wrists bound, mouth gagged, her body cut and carved, blood shining like lightning in her veins. He saw through her eyes, felt the dagger press against her abdomen, the first new sigil carved into her skin. His stomach tore open in kind, phantom steel slicing him to ribbons.
He shook so hard the straps cut through skin. Aurora wept, holding his hand, begging him to stay.
"Take her as yours, mi León," the High Priestess crooned in his skull. Jaime gagged, bile and blood filling his throat. The words were knives.
He saw the Lion raise the blade. He felt the claw grip Elena's hip. He felt himself driven into with brutal force, over and over, every thrust another cut, another desecration, another shred of his soul torn loose.
Jaime's scream never left his throat, it died as a strangled sob, swallowed by the bond. He shook against the cot, lips foaming with blood, eyes wide and blind. No… not me… not her… not her!
Aurora's sobs broke as she pressed her forehead to his, trying to anchor him. Señora Behike chanted louder, hands trembling as his blood ran freely.
"Submit to me," the Lion growled, and Jaime heard it as though whispered against his ear. Each word sank talons into his heart.
He felt himself shatter in her body, felt her weep and beg for him, gagged and silenced. His mind fractured. He was Elena, he was himself, he was the flood.
Then thunder split the mountain.
His back arched as roots tore through stone miles away. He tasted blood and soil in his mouth. Fog pressed in on his vision, figures rising in the haze. Cultists with the children's faces. Elena's face. His own, multiplied. He gasped, choked, sobbed, unable to tell which was real.
"GET AWAY FROM MY MOTHER!" Esperanza's cry thundered through him. Lightning cracked his chest open, his body jerking as though struck.
He saw Elena, dazed, delirious, not recognizing her daughter. He felt her recoil, whispering die die die. The rejection gutted him as if her words were meant for him.
"No," he croaked, lips shredded. "No, Elena… not me… not them…"
Aurora shook him, shouting something he could not hear.
Juan's sobs tore through Jaime as if they were his own. He felt him kiss Elena's brow, and the bond made the touch echo on his skin.
"Elena…" Jaime whispered, choking on his own blood. "Don't… let go… mi tormenta…"
He saw her smile, brittle as glass, whispering for death. His breath hitched and failed. He tried to scream, but his lungs collapsed inward.
Alejandro lifted her from the scaffold, and Jaime felt her weight in his own arms, though he lay bound in the healer's hut. He felt her thrash, whisper vows to him with a voice almost too weak to reach his ears.
"To… have… and… to hold… in next… life…"
The words broke him. Jaime's cry was raw, silent, all breath gone. He bit his lip until blood ran, trying to keep himself anchored, but the bond pulled him into the dark where she drifted. His body slacked as Elena's did.
Aurora wept into his chest, shaking him. Señora Behike pressed harder, chanting prayers, hissing to the storm.
And then another voice slipped from Jaime's lips, not his own but Coatriskie's:
My vessel is nearly undone. Hurry.
The hut shook with stormlight.
The Lion's roar lingered in his ears. The High Priestess's laughter gnawed at his bones.
And Jaime, bleeding, bound, delirious, begging for Elena to stay from across the void, was left gasping on the edge of death, following her into oblivion.