"I have no standard of comparison," she says. "But they were deeply anchored in your lifeforce, to be certain. Fueled by your own biology, it seemed."
"And I believe I learned much about channeling differentiated magic."
She looks up to the window of Milliways and opens herself to the flood of thanergy; not a rosebud opening to light, but a wilting rose surrendering to time. She breathes in death energy, far too much, her body aching instantly, and she surrenders most of it.
She huffs out a breath and can taste on it the toxins flushed from her blood and carried out through her lungs; anchors herself on the dying alveolar cells and marries it, in her mind, to the images of air burial. The vultures pick her chest bare, and--
A breeze blows, ruffling Moiraine's hair; not a kind breeze, but chill as the jealousy of angels. It only lasts a moment, and then Harrow's nose is bleeding.
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"And I believe I learned much about channeling differentiated magic."
She looks up to the window of Milliways and opens herself to the flood of thanergy; not a rosebud opening to light, but a wilting rose surrendering to time. She breathes in death energy, far too much, her body aching instantly, and she surrenders most of it.
She huffs out a breath and can taste on it the toxins flushed from her blood and carried out through her lungs; anchors herself on the dying alveolar cells and marries it, in her mind, to the images of air burial. The vultures pick her chest bare, and--
A breeze blows, ruffling Moiraine's hair; not a kind breeze, but chill as the jealousy of angels. It only lasts a moment, and then Harrow's nose is bleeding.