Nykin pushed his hands away and struggled to sit up. He felt light-headed and took a moment to let the feeling pass before looking up at Ryneq. “I can’t hear him in my head.” He went to rub at where his rider’s sigil should be but stopped when he felt the bandage there instead. “It feels like we’re connected, but he’s not answering me, and he’s never done this before.” Nykin reached to grab Ryneq’s forearm tightly. “If healing me has… has….” Nykin swallowed, unable to finish. “What if it was too much?” “Nykin.” Ryneq cupped his cheek with his free hand and forced Nykin to look him in the eyes. “If Fimor died, then so would you.” Nykin’s heart lurched and the horror he felt at the thought must have shown on his face. “I didn’t mean to be so blunt, but you need to focus. There isn’t much time,” Ryneq added quickly. “Using that much magic will have made him weak, and we can’t afford to wait around for him to recover.
