Cang and Abia watch with a mixture of surprise and horror as the darts shake in Shyan’s skin.
Fassn’s song to Old Ajralan rises in intensity. Abia feels a kind of queer affinity for Fassn, his wiry beard, and his god. Often had she employed the power of melody to work uncommon feats. Now here was the old man doing so himself.
Meanwhile, Fassn concentrates, trying to keep the melody in his head. It’d been a while since he was taught the insistent chant. A while since he’d asked Old Ajralan for a favour directly.
Shyan twists on her back, slowly moving within the stone perimeter. Fassn takes a moment to shush and calm her as the darts quake.