If Finn remained unconvinced of his own mettle, he knew he had capable people to depend upon. Lyra reached from across space to help him, and while she didn't waste aether dulling the pain, he could feel her shifting things around in his gaping wound. He trusted her. Hilana came through the portal with his arm; he almost laughed with a gallows hilarity, but perhaps there was hope for him yet. Even Deus Aværys destroyed those shadow creatures they hadn't for harming him. Though he was safe now and no longer needed to channel that divine spark directly, he held onto it, almost as though with a phantom limb.
Something bloomed within him. He didn't know if it was love or religious feeling, but he held the portal open so he could meet that numinous gaze. Finn may not have chosen Aværys, but Aværys had chosen Finn, and while he was unlikely to prevent ever stubbed toe and scraped knee, the King of Kings was there when he needed him.
'Thank you,' he mouthed, eyes bright with pain and other things. But his soul was singing more eloquent praises.
They had Khyan. Finn stumbled to his feet with the help of the medici, and thence onto a table where they could work upon him.
He couldn't see Hilana any longer, but one of them had his arm. It looked so strange and alien when not attached to him.
"Subvigilia, ianua..."
Finn blinked owlishly at the healer, then at his gate. Aværys was watching, but he had no need for Finn's portal if he wanted to witness what came next. In any case, assuming Finn survived, he could recall this point and take Hilana back if necessary.
"Vale, Aværys." He raised his remaining hand in farewell, though it turned almost into a supplication before he could no longer maintain his concentration for the pain. He wanted his God there with him if he was going to die, or if he was going to have to survive this pain. It was all he could do not to telegraph it into the symphonies of those around him. His magic snuffed out, though he held onto that slender thread of grace that he had been afforded. But then all he could do was breathe and try to master his own mind and body to dull the pain.
He wasn't doing a very good job of it.
But then, some time later, Arvælyn was there, terrible and beautiful. His presence only disrupted the efficiency of the medici. One managed, "Your Exalted Highness, please... we need space..."
But Finn was reaching out to him.
"Arry... it hurts..." He didn't rightly know if he just wanted a hand to hold or if he wanted Arvælyn to plunge his mind deeper than any pain could find him.
Something bloomed within him. He didn't know if it was love or religious feeling, but he held the portal open so he could meet that numinous gaze. Finn may not have chosen Aværys, but Aværys had chosen Finn, and while he was unlikely to prevent ever stubbed toe and scraped knee, the King of Kings was there when he needed him.
'Thank you,' he mouthed, eyes bright with pain and other things. But his soul was singing more eloquent praises.
They had Khyan. Finn stumbled to his feet with the help of the medici, and thence onto a table where they could work upon him.
He couldn't see Hilana any longer, but one of them had his arm. It looked so strange and alien when not attached to him.
"Subvigilia, ianua..."
Finn blinked owlishly at the healer, then at his gate. Aværys was watching, but he had no need for Finn's portal if he wanted to witness what came next. In any case, assuming Finn survived, he could recall this point and take Hilana back if necessary.
"Vale, Aværys." He raised his remaining hand in farewell, though it turned almost into a supplication before he could no longer maintain his concentration for the pain. He wanted his God there with him if he was going to die, or if he was going to have to survive this pain. It was all he could do not to telegraph it into the symphonies of those around him. His magic snuffed out, though he held onto that slender thread of grace that he had been afforded. But then all he could do was breathe and try to master his own mind and body to dull the pain.
He wasn't doing a very good job of it.
But then, some time later, Arvælyn was there, terrible and beautiful. His presence only disrupted the efficiency of the medici. One managed, "Your Exalted Highness, please... we need space..."
But Finn was reaching out to him.
"Arry... it hurts..." He didn't rightly know if he just wanted a hand to hold or if he wanted Arvælyn to plunge his mind deeper than any pain could find him.