"She is not dying," Gideon said, his voice breaking. "Mother, you are not dying."
Victoria's breathing was shallow, her skin pale. Blood pooled beneath her on the cold stone floor. Evie pressed her hands against the worst wound, trying to stop the bleeding, but it kept coming.
"The healers are too far away," Jayden said grimly. He knelt beside them, his face tight with worry. "She will not last long enough."
"Then find someone closer!" Gideon roared. "There has to be someone who can help her."
"I can help," a quiet voice said.
Everyone turned. An old woman stood in the cathedral doorway. She wore a long dark cloak and leaned on a twisted wooden staff. Her eyes were cloudy white, but somehow Evie felt like she could see everything.
"Who are you?" Gideon demanded.
"Morgana," the woman
