65: Time
The last notes of the harp-song fade from the air around Kyrie, Seamus, and Aeowyn, as well as from their own throats. “Kyrie,” Aeowyn gasps, her attention abruptly returning to her injured friend. To her surprise, Kyrie’s wound has lost all signs of necrosis, which Aeowyn takes as a good sign, until she realizes that it has also come open again, spilling purple sparkles on the ground at Kyrie’s side. “No no no. This can’t…. Kyrie, look at me,” Seamus pleads, kneeling at Kyrie’s side and trying to stop her life from spilling out with his hands. “Mervaille achsiyos,” Aeowyn commands, her words pulling several large leaves with healing properties from the forest around them to press against Kyrie’s wound as a sort of bandage. Kyrie’s eyes flutter open, meeting Seamus’s with a surprisingl
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