The Drowning City: The Necromancer Chronicles Book One (2009) - Plot & Excerpts
It certainly felt that way, though, as Isyllt watched Jabbor carry her limp body into the forest. She was lucky he didn’t leave her in the mud, especially since Zhirin was in no condition to argue for her safety. On the other side of the mirror, Sivahra’s forest rose thick and dark. The sky was a low ceiling of gray and violet clouds, twilit gloom. Spirits chattered in the trees and the breeze twisted through the leaves in silver and indigo ribbons, beautiful and disorienting. Vertigo struck quickly, the familiar dizziness that came of casting her spirit free. On its heels came the wild rush of freedom, the longing to run and fly unfettered by meat. It was the most dangerous part of ghostwalking, more dangerous than any lurking spirit—if she abandoned her flesh too long, she might never return to it. She held on to the echo of her heartbeat until the urge passed. At least, she thought bitterly, as a ghost she had two good hands. At the Tigers’ safe house, Jabbor carried her inside and laid her body on a bedroll, less gently than she would have liked.
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