Saidar was being used nearby. Saidar was always being used somewhere within range of her whilst in the Grey Tower, but it felt different now. She hadn't touched the Source since Vaidulo. That had only been this evening. It was still the same evening. It also felt like a lifetime ago.
Malachite green eyes overlooked the torn, soaked and bloody dress she had on. The Elia-before-Vaidulo would have been appalled at her appearance. Now she didn't see any of it. Her gaze only noticed one thing, and it seemed like the only thing that was important in the whole world.
The feeling of movement from her arm seemed far removed from the blackened limb that lifted itself into view. The skin was mottled in dark browns and ashen black, and looked withered. It could have been the arm of a corpse left on a midden heap for months, except it wasn't. As she bid her fingers to flex, the bone-thin digits moved. The gesture brought with it a subtle aching pain.
Elia jumped when the door to the room opened. She calmed when she recognised the Asha'man, offering him a weak smile. "I wasn't infected," she stated quietly. The Shienaran made no attempt to bully or protest; all of the headstrong determination that defined her was absent in her tone and body language.
She looked beyond Gareth into the wider infirmary, hoping not to see a particular someone. His face appeared whenever she closed her eyes.
Elia's gaze returned to the Yellow Asha'man's face, then to her decayed arm. "Can you do anything for me?"





