In the Grand Infirmary, the air had turned stagnant. The high-priests were collapsing from exhaustion, their silver robes soaked in sweat. Luviyah stood over Ingi, her hands trembling. The Patriarch's chest was now almost entirely transparent; she could see the marble of the altar through his heart.
"My Lady," the Head Healer rasped, blood trickling from his nose. "We can't hold them. Their 'Ember' is cold. If we don't act now, the King will vanish before the sun sets."
Luviyah's eyes went dark with a terrifying resolve. She reached into the hidden folds of her sleeve and pulled out a small, obsidian scroll tied with human hair—the Shattered Life-Link. It was a forbidden Northern Rite. It would allow her and the twelve healers to tether their very souls to the dragons, pouring their life-span directly into the dragons' veins. It was a guaranteed cure, but it was a death sentence for the casters.
