One minute, Kathera was controlling Sahora’s body, and the next, Sahora folded to the ground in front of Cyrus, Castor already moving.
He caught her first, lowering her onto a patch of grass. I hit my knees beside her a heartbeat later.
“Oli—” she tried.
“Ami,” I said, already digging through my pack, hands shaking, “do you have brabin fruit? We need to ground her.”
Ami was on us instantly, pulling it free.
“What happened down there?” she asked as I cut the fruit into rough pieces.
My chest remembered Sahora’s last breath like a bruise that wouldn’t fade. I set the knife down before my hands gave me away.
Cyrus stepped closer, eyes sharp. Briar hovered behind Castor’s shoulder.
“Can I get some breathing room?” I snapped, too raw to soften it. “I’ll answer questions once she can stand.”
“Explain while you help her,” Cyrus pressed, edging in around Ami.
I stood so fast the world tilted.
“Explain what exactly?” The words came out like a wound. “That Sahora died down there? That I felt her drowning in my own chest?” My voice cracked into a shout. “That I brought her back against my oath?”
I swallowed fire.
“All I want right now is to make sure she’s okay. And all you want is to have Kathera back.”
My fists locked tight to stop the tremor.
“She paid the cost to get the blood essence. I paid the cost to get her back. Is that explained enough for you?”
Cyrus flinched. “We’re trying to understand why Kathera could take over.”
I opened my mouth, then Castor’s hand settled on my shoulder, steady as stone.
“Oliver,” he said quietly. “I know that feeling. You’re not alone. You were right to save her.”
He looked to the others. “Give them space.”
Reluctantly, they moved away, slowly making their way down to the bottom of the waterfall.
I watched the staggered breaths that came from Sahora's chest. I grabbed her hand, pulling on the bond. Please be okay, please wake up.
For a moment, there was a pause in the air.
Then.
Sahora stirred. I helped her sit, then pressed a piece of brabin fruit into her palm.
“Here. Eat.”
Color crept back into her face. Her breathing evened. I could feel her mind steadying through the bond.
“Oliver…” She swallowed, throat raw. “Kathera and I have a deal now.”
“A deal?”
“She can come forward,” Sahora said, voice wavering, “but she has to ask first. I decide if I give permission.”
Relief hit me so hard I almost laughed.
“Kathera will listen,” I said automatically, then caught myself. “I hope she will.”
Sahora’s eyes flicked away, then back. “There’s more.”
I nodded once, bracing.
“I can feel her bond with Lyrian.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?” The word betrayed me.
“It’s still hers,” she rushed, grabbing my hand. “But I can feel it.”
I hated the spike of jealousy anyway, the stupid, primal fear of being replaced by a ghost of a love that isn’t mine to compete with.
“Our bond is still strong,” she said quickly. “She can hear him, but he can’t hear me. It doesn’t touch us.”
“She can hear us, too,” Sahora added, holding my gaze. “But she promised she won’t interfere.”
The thought landed like a punch.
I looked away. “Does that mean you have two Soulfated partners?”
“No.” She shifted until she was right in front of me, forcing my attention back. “He is hers, not mine. I don’t want him.”
Her hands framed my face, desperate for me to understand.
“There is only one person I trust completely.” Her voice cracked. “That person is you. That’s not changing.”
Those mismatched eyes, Sahora and Kathera and all the terrifying in-between, held mine steady.
“You’re my Soulfated,” she said. “I’ve accepted that in a way I can’t take back. We’ll face all of this together.”
I saw it then: not bravado, not a promise to soothe me—a plea.
Believe me.
“Together,” I whispered.
I pulled her into my arms and held on like time might try to take her again.