"Too weak," Ashlynn whispered. "Too weak to withstand a cruel world…"
"Ashlynn?" Nyrielle prompted, but Ashlynn was already pulling away.
She slipped out of Nyrielle's arms and knelt alone before the tree, and with stiff, frozen fingers, she fumbled at the midnight-blue pouch that hung at her waist.
Nyrielle knew what it held before Ashlynn drew it out.
"Ashlynn," Nyrielle said quietly. "That is the last one."
"I know," Ashlynn said almost absentmindedly.
"This isn't what it was made for," Nyrielle reminded her. "The power it contains…."
"Belongs to her," Ashlynn said without looking up. "We made these so I could rescue her. To protect her and my coven in case the worst came to pass. If this isn't the very worst, Nyri, then I don't know what is."
