The moon hung directly over the crater of the volcano, casting a pale, ghostly beam onto the Spring of Severance.
The water wasn't blue. It was a swirling, opalescent white, thick with steam and smelling of sulfur and ancient magic.
Elder Renard stood at the edge, his nine tails twitching nervously.
"The alignment is perfect," the Elder rasped. "But remember... the Spring does not heal. It severs. It will try to tear the darkness out of you. If the darkness is holding onto your soul... it might tear your soul out too."
Caspian stood at the water's edge. He had stripped off his heavy coat and shirt. His chest was a roadmap of agony. The black veins of the corruption had spread to his face, spiderwebbing across his left cheek.
He looked at Primrose.
"If I change," Caspian said, his voice low and steady. "If I turn into a beast and try to leave this pool... do not hesitate."
He looked at General Rajah. "Strike me down."
