‘Oke, no! No!’ I cry.

The voices are creeping back into my head, but I fight against them. I can only fight one battle at a time, and right now, they’re not mine. Saving Oke is. ‘Oke! You can’t save him. You can’t save him. You’ll get yourself killed. Please!’

She offers me only the briefest glance before turning back to Mattieu, just in time to watch him plunge a knife into his own stomach.

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Chapter 48

For a split second, I pray that this is going to be like when the Issen’s sword went through Kyor. That it isn’t a real knife in Mattieu’s hand, but an illusion. But as the blood sprays and he falls to his knees while the spectres continue their fight around him, I know I’m not going to be that lucky twice.

‘No! Mattieu, no!’ Oke rushes towards him and her knees land so hard on the ice that cracks form in the glass-like floor. ‘It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

As she presses her hands to his stomach, a soft red glow fizzes from her fingers and the smell of burning meat fills the air.

Oke is a healer? The thought comes with a torrent of relief, though it doesn’t last. That smell … No healing I’ve ever known has made an aroma like that. She’s not healing him, I realise; she’s just trying to stop the bleeding by cauterising the wound.

But Mattieu plunged his dagger all the way to the hilt. Can cauterisation fix something like that? It only takes me a minute to know the answer. From the blood pooling at Mattieu’s mouth and running onto Oke’s furs, I’d say not. Though as I watch on, I realise Mattieu is the least of her worries. There’s something about the way she’s shaking her head and moving her lips. It’s as though she’s talking to a dozen people at once. Or fighting off voices in her mind. The spectres are closing in around her, and if she’s not careful, she’s going to be next. I have to get to her.

Rain has started falling. Freezing rain so cold it seeps all the way to my bones. I need to keep moving. Water-soaked furs are even heavier, meaning it’s going to be harder to walk across the ice. Not to mention more perilous.

‘Oke, you need to leave him. We need to go.’ I wade through the mirages of battling Issen and Morathkians and grab her by the arm. ‘You have to go now. You have to save yourself, or you’re both going to die.’

Her eyes widen as she looks at me, the rain streaming down her face; the whites bulge from their sockets, and her pupils swallow her irises with their all-consuming darkness.

Is this what I looked like when Kyor knocked the blade from my hand? What Mattieu looked like before he ran the knife through his own stomach? I have a horrible feeling it is. I need to snap her out of this before she kills herself.

‘You … you wanted this. You wanted him dead. They’re right. You are our enemy. You need to die.’

Fuck.

Not only does she want me dead, but apparently the spirits do too. Great.

‘Oke, snap out of it! Please, I’m trying to help you!’ I yell. ‘I’m trying to save you!’

She grips a dagger, the point aimed at me. So words aren’t going to be enough to stop this from happening. Good to know.

The rainwater on the ice has made it even more slippery, yet somehow I swing my leg up and kick the weapon out of her hand before she gets a chance to strike. My aim is spot on, and it clatters to the ground, but as my foot lands, I feel the crack of the ice beneath me.

Not having a weapon doesn’t deter her. In one lunge, Oke has wrapped her strong hands around my throat. My breath falters and my body instinctively thrashes about, weakening the already fragile ice beneath us. If I don’t think of something soon, I’m going to die out here. Either by Oke’s hand or in the icy water, and neither is an option I want to take.

‘You defile the land, defile the one true God. The Mother God.’

Fuck. The voices are back in my head. But I can’t let them win. I won’t die. Not here. Not when I’m trying to help someone survive in a trial for the fucking Goddess of Life. That’s not how these things are meant to work. Please, I beg whatever God is listening. Please, I just need something. Anything.

I kick out at Oke, and she slams me down on the ground. This time, the crack in the ice is audible. Loud enough to resonate through my skull. Loud enough to block out the voices trying to lay their claims there. Please, Gods, help me!

The apparitions are drawing closer, circling Oke and me as if they want to be there at the moment of our deaths. And it’s coming soon. I can feel it. The air. It’s so cold. So thin.

Oke’s hands are still at my throat, squeezing, while I lie flat on my back, praying the spread of my weight will keep the ice from giving way beneath us. Still, I have no choice but to thrash out again and land a kick to her stomach that causes her to loosen her grip. As I scramble up to my knees, fighting dizziness and gasping for breath, Oke towers over me. And she’s not alone. One of the apparitions dressed in Issen garb stands resolutely beside her, looking at me.

‘Please, Etta!’ I choke out, my voice raw from the crush of Oke’s hands. ‘Help me!’

‘You are asking the wrong God,’ the apparition says. ‘You should ask the Mother.’

His voice is crystal clear, as if he’s speaking normally and not inside my head.

‘Etta is my Goddess,’ I reply, only to realise the insanity of this moment. I’m being distracted by a talking spirit. Thankfully, Oke seems to be experiencing something similar, but I know it’s only going to be minutes at most before she finishes what she started.

‘Just ask. Ask and we will help you, Daughter.’

I’m going insane. Of course I am. I don’t have an ancient warrior spirit telling me to ask for help.

But what do I have to lose?

‘Help me,’ I whisper, my voice barely a breath. ‘Please, help me.’

The words leave my lips at the same moment Oke swings back to face me. My stomach plummets when I see she’s found her dagger and has one very clear target for it. She raises her weapon and I lift my hands in defence, as if the flesh of my palms will be enough to block the blade from piercing my sternum. I clench my body as I prepare for the pain of impact, though I keep my eyes open. I don’t know why it matters, but I refuse to meet Mortidem with my eyes closed.

Every fibre in my body is taut as the tip of the dagger touches my skin, but all I feel is cold. Not pain. Just cold. Ice crystals form along the blade’s length, bright white, refracting light for just a heartbeat before the metal shatters completely.

Oke’s jaw hangs loose as she stares at the useless wooden hilt in her hand.

‘You … what the hell are you?’

She throws the hilt to the side before lunging. This time, a single shot of ice radiates from my palm in a long stream that strikes Oke through the heart. She stumbles back and drops to the ground, her full weight thudding down and shattering the ice beneath her.

It feels as though the entire earth shifts as water surges up and over the frozen surface, swallowing Oke into the darkness beyond as the cracks extend towards me.

‘No!’ I scramble backward, but they’re moving so fast. Any second now, I’ll be in the water.

Unless …

I stop and look up. That same figure is still there, something close to a smile now shadowing his face. Keeping my eyes on his, I place my hand on the soaking, cracking ice and speak.

‘Help me,’ I whisper again.

‘I think you can help yourself,’ he replies.

This time, I feel it. A rush of energy fills my body and sets every cell within me alight. I’ve felt magic before – of course I have, hundreds of times – but never have I felt anything like this. So energising. So pure. It floods into me, causing my back to arch as my eyes fall closed and I gasp. Only when the sensation has faded do I look down again, already knowing what I’m going to see. There’s not a single crack in the ice. Excitement and relief flicker through me. Magic. I don’t know where it’s come from, or why, but somehow … I have magic in me again.