He can’t fix anything if he’s dead. Whatever the risk, he has to take it. Hands shaking, Shae unfastens the silver feather from his right lobe. Drops it on the ground next to the one-eyed bandit’s corpse. It’s easier than Shae thought it would be. The last protective wall crumbles from his soul with barely a whisper of sensation. Shae covers the dead man’s mouth with his palm, and closes his eyes.
