Thin streams of silver rose from his arms.
His shoulders, his chest, and his fingers.
The healers pushed harder, and the circle tightened. Asterion's breathing became shallow. His hair was no longer silver.
Darkness had spread through half of it.
"Asterion!" Eleanor screamed his name, as she gave him a liggt slap on his jaw to jolt him awake.
His eyes opened.
His eyes passed from Eleanor to everyome around him. Then, he looked at Beatrice. And for one terrible moment, he looked like he didn't recognize anyone.
His voice broke. "I can't hold it."
Baetrice stepped forward.
The eldest healer immediately stopped her. "Baetrice, don't enter the circle."
"He's dying."
"If you enter, the magic may attach to you."
Beatrice looked at Asterion. He was shaking.
The silver magic surged around them.
The healers shouted. "Keep chanting!"
The chant became frantic.
Asterion squeezed Eleanor's hand. His grip was weak. Too weak. His eyes closed. Eleanor leaned over him.
