"It has to work, Cherion. For both our sakes, I suspect."
Zarius's voice seemed to vibrate through the floors of his bedchamber. He wasn't looking at Cherion. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the far wall. There was a desperation to his tone.
Cherion, meanwhile, was busy trying to remember how to breathe. "It will," he managed, though it sounded more like a prayer than a promise. "I've spent enough time in that library. The math checks out. Mostly."
They were currently occupying a sprawling, velvet couch that felt far too soft for the gravity of the situation. Cherion had insisted on a respectable distance, so they sat at opposite ends, leaning inward just enough so their hands could meet in the vast, empty middle. It was an absurdly long stretch. Cherion felt like a child reaching for a forbidden sweet on a high shelf, his arm extended until his shoulder joint gave a faint, rhythmic pop.
The goal was simple, to test the direct, skin-to-skin contact to transfer the healing energy.
