With the release of his final Forestallment, the small pool of blood on the ground began to glow with the aura of the craft. The azure pool grew larger and larger. It soon split into crooked lengths that looked like lightning branches. There were hundreds of them now, their ends starting to snake through the streets of Tammerland. Other tendrils traveled across the surface of the moat and invaded the palace grounds.
Raising his hands higher, his body trembling and his mind pushed to the limit, Tristan silently ordered the branches to search out their targets. Their speed increasing, they obeyed. Lightning tore across the sky. Thunder cracked, and a stiff, cyclonic wind overtook the city, its ferocity sending the charred, wet debris from the fires whirling high into the air. One by one, the azure branches reached not only the citizens of Tammerland, but his own Minions of Day and Night as well.
The terrified citizens tried to run. But the azure branches were too fast. The exhausted Minions held fast, most of them trying to strike down the snaking branches with their dreggans. But their blades caused no damage. Pandemonium reigned again.
As those on the palace roof watched, they soon realized that the branches were not seeking out all of the people and warriors, but only some of them. Finally understanding, Shailiha's eyes went wide and she looked at Wigg. With a smile, the First Wizard nodded back.
The branches were only seeking out the wounded and dying!
With each caress of the craft, the wounds healed. Burns and gashes closed, bleeding stopped, and broken bones mended themselves. Cries of jubilation rose in the city as the lame walked and the blind saw again. Crutches were cast aside, and tearful mothers and fathers held each other as they watched their stricken children become whole once more.
As the citizens and the warriors came to understand what was happening, they embraced one another. As if they had suddenly found a common thread of humanity that had never before existed, the citizens began to shed their sense of fear, and the warriors gradually cast off the guilt they had felt for so long about what they had once done to these people. Even the stern warriors shed tears.
Unfettered happiness engulfed the city in ways that the fires and the Enseterat's forces had not been able to do. Someone climbed one of the city's still-standing towers and began to ring its bells in celebration. Joy commanded the night.
With tears in his eyes, Wigg looked down at Tristan. The Jin'Sai was still struggling to hold his arms wide. At last, sensing that his work was done, he lowered his arms. He watched weakly as the azure branches faded, then disappeared.
Tristan fell to his knees and hung his head. Citizens and warriors rushed toward him with gratitude. With the end of his final Forestallment, the thunder and wind died away, leaving only the sounds of celebration.
But his heart was not gladdened. Although he was grateful that he had succeeded, the merriment meant little to him. As the crowds formed around him he ignored them, his mind imprisoned by his own grief.
Celeste, he thought. His tears came freely.
His mind turned to the stark image of her azure death mask, hovering in space with so many others in the Well of Forestallments. Was her soul content? he wondered. Did she indeed forgive him from wherever she had gone to rest?
Reaching into his leather vest, with a trembling hand he removed her wedding ring.
Then he lost consciousness and fell to the ground.