I can feel the careful restraint in his touch, the way he's holding himself back. With the warmth of his body seeping into mine and the comforting weight of his arm around me, sleep claims me more quickly than I expected, pulling me down into darkness.

* * *

Darkness. Then flashes of light. I'm seeing through eyes that aren't mine again, feeling emotions that belong to someone else.

The castle is burning. I can smell smoke, hear screams echoing through marble halls. I'm running, my breath ragged in my throat, desperation driving each step.

"Keira!" The name tears from my lips—no, from Raith's lips. This is his memory again, bleeding through our tether as we sleep.

I round a corner and skid to a halt. The door ahead is half-open, firelight spilling through the gap. Something is wrong. The quality of the light is strange, tinged with an oily darkness that seems to absorb rather than reflect.

Fear grips me, but I push forward, shouldering through the door.

What I see inside sears itself into my mind.

A young woman in her early twenties stands in the center of the room, her arms outstretched. She looks like Raith—the same golden eyes, the same proud bearing, though her hair is a deep auburn rather than black.

She's breathtakingly beautiful, and I can feel Raith's admiration and respect for her. His heartbreak and fear at what he sees.

Fire spirals around her in intricate patterns, but it's fighting against something else—a darkness that seems to move with purpose, with malice.

Across from her is a figure that shifts and changes, its form unstable, like smoke given flesh. The energy clears and I see it fully, familiarity prickling through my own memories into the vision.

The tall, pale and twisted flesh hunched over with limbs that are too long. The gaping mouth like a smile and the sightless eyes.

A siphon.

The air around it ripples with void energy, purple, green, and consuming. Somehow, this one seems even more powerful than the one I faced in Confluence. More deadly.

"Keira, stop!" I scream, lunging forward.

Her head turns, and for a single moment, her eyes lock with mine. Recognition flashes, followed by a depth of regret that cuts like a blade.

"I'm sorry, little brother," she whispers. "Run. Run now."

She draws deeper, pulling forth more fire essence than any human body should be able to channel. I can see it happening—the magic rushing through her, brightening her from within until her skin seems translucent, until the veins beneath glow bright orange.

I can see the outline of her skeleton through flesh and watch as the bone flakes away to ash, consumed by impossible heat.

The siphon shrieks, a sound no human throat could make, and lunges forward.

"No!" I scream, but it's too late.

Keira detonates.