Page 330 of Scarlet Wars
“The High Chief cast a shield,” she whispered with conviction. “That’s why your healing won’t take. Your magic’s not failing, it’s being blocked from the inside.”
“A shield?” I echoed, confused as hell.
“An advanced one. It’s a rare form of translation, ancient. It mimics the effect of armor fromwithinthe body. When cast, itdeflects all other translation—healing, reinforcement, anything—locks everything out.”
My gaze snapped to the High Chief. He moved through Caden and James’s attacks like they were slow, irrelevant. Each strike slid off him, absorbed, redirected, and his expression never changed.
“He’s using it on himself,” I said, catching on.
“Yes, and I’m willing to bet he cast the same translation into Jackson when he struck him,” Cara replied in a hurried tone. “It would’ve sealed his body in the exact condition it was in the moment of impact. Frozen. Your magic can’t connect because it’s bouncing off a wall you can’t see.”
A knot twisted in my gut. I had been trying to heal the surface while the real damage had stayed untouched and rotting.
“So what do we do?” Sean demanded, wild-eyed.
“We save your husband,” Cara shot back, steel threaded through every word. “I didn’t help you form a True Bond in Hunza just so one of you could drop dead the next time we crossed paths.”
…What?
Cara turned to me and gripped my wrist, her fingers tight. “The Chief has no idea you’re healing him,” she said, fast and fierce. “He can’t see your haze from here, and he doesn’t know what you cando.”
Her eyes locked onto mine.
“Maurice knew what a shield was. And now, you do too. So stop focusing on what youdon’tunderstand. Focus on what’s already inside you.”
Her voice softened, only barely.
“Your father’s translation runs through your veins. This isn’t foreign to you. It’s yours.”
She squeezed my wrist once. “You can break it, Emma.You’re the only one who can.”
Her gaze flicked to the far side of the battlefield, where the High Chief had turned toward us, hand lifting again.
“I’ll buy you some time,” she said, low and steady. “Jackson’s not going to die. Not here, and not today.”
She turned toward the High Chief, arms spread wide, head lifted like a challenge. Daring him.
I didn’t wait to see what happened next.
My hands slammed back onto Jackson’s chest, and this time—this time—I didn’t try to heal. I reached deeper, searching for the shield, the barrier Cara had warned me about.
I felt it immediately, thin and tight like wire beneath the surface. But now I understood it. I recognized its shape, its rhythm.
I closed my eyes and drew in a breath, calling up my golden haze. It flared to life beneath my skin, surging forward, not to push against the shield, but toslip through it.
The moment I found the weak point, my magic rushed in, racing through his veins, seizing every torn thread, binding, mending, anchoring.
Jackson’s breath hitched beneath my palms.
“Come on, Jackson,” I whispered. “Come back. Come back to us.”
Another breath. Stronger.
His skin flushed with color.
“Emma,” Sean breathed, eyes wide with disbelief. “I think…he’s…he’s breathing.”
“He’s stabilizing,” I said, barely able to believe it myself.
