And so did Rain.

A familiar burst of wild power flared around him. No matter what Ellysetta may have claimed at the outset, the torment of healing so many rasa souls had left her empathic shei'dalin senses raw and throbbing, as if a gaping wound had been ripped through her chest straight to her heart. The wild fury of Rain's tairen was rousing in response to his mate's pain.

And an equally fierce anger was writhing and hissing inside of Ellysetta. The glow around her flared with sudden brightness.

The warrior in Ellysetta's grip gave a sharp cry and fell to his knees, shaking like a leaf as his hands reached for the leather straps holding his black Fey'cha. Even as he swore his lute'asheiva bond, she was reaching for the next Fey standing behind him.

"Sisters," Marissya commanded the other shei'dalins, "give me your strength." The five Fey women offered her their power without question. Neither Marissya nor the other shei'dalins could heal the warriors as Ellysetta was doing, but they could add their strength to hers and weave away at least some of her pain so she could continue.

Marissya wove the shei'dalins' power into multi-ply threads of healing and laid her hands on Ellysetta's shoulders. Sparks snapped and popped when their bodies made contact, and Ellysetta's head whipped around, eyes narrowed in threat.

"Las, Ellysetta," Marissya soothed. "Take what we can give. Use our weaves. Spin our strength into your own." Weaves of peace and healing flowed from her hands, ropes of Earth and Fire and Spirit, all gleaming with the warm golden glow of shei'dalin love. "Long have we all wished these Fey more joy than we could grant. Whatever power we have is yours to use. Heal our brothers. Make them whole once more."

Ellysetta's blazing eyes examined Marissya's weaves. Without a word, she turned back to the Fey in her grip, and Marissya's mouth opened on a gasp as Ellysetta seized the threads of shei'dalin power and thrust them deep into the blinding brightness of her own pattern.

"Light save me," she whispered.

"Shei'tani?" Dax clutched her arm.

"I'm all right, shei'tan. Just surprised. She is buffering me, but her pain is terrible." Quickly, Marissya spun peace and absence of pain upon Ellysetta, then swallowed and shook her head. "I can feel the pattern of her weave. It's not so different from weaving peace, except for the love…Light save me, I've never felt a shei'dalin's love so strongly."

That was the strength of Ellysetta's weave. Bright, unyielding, indefatigable love. Love that did not know surrender. Love that did not understand limitations or even basic self-preservation. Love that would batter itself to death before giving in to defeat.

"Dax," she said, "gather a group of Fey. Have them go room to room through the rest of Chakai. Bring any other rasa who wish for healing here. Hurry. Those of you who have refused her gift, get out. Now!" she barked at several of the warriors who stood off to one side, arms crossed, eyes grim and filled with suspicion. The men looked startled at Marissya's vehemence, but they'd been too long conditioned to respect her command to do anything but obey. Wordless, casting final glances over their shoulders, they departed.

"She must stop," Rain growled.

Marissya knew how hard he was fighting to keep his tairen in check. "Nei, Rain. Sieks'ta, I know how hard this is for you, but she must finish. She has put too much of herself into the weave, holding nothing back. I fear what will happen if you make her stop before she is finished." She muttered a curse. "I spent all those days trying to teach her how to weave her magic with restraint, when what I should have been teaching her was how to restrain herself instead of her magic."

Shei'dalins anchored themselves before they touched the rasa. Always. The pain of so much death, so many sorrows crying out for healing was overwhelming. Even the strongest shei'dalin risked losing herself in the torment of the one she was healing if she did not keep a portion of her soul, of her oneness, carefully blocked off, preferably tied to some other person such as a mate or another shei'dalin.

Ellysetta was holding none of herself in reserve. Though that impenetrable barrier still guarded her mind from shei'dalin intrusion, the floodgates of her empathic power were wide-open, and the shining brightness of Ellysetta's soul was pouring out upon the rasa like searing beams of the Great Sun's light. Even before one warrior was healed, her power was already reaching for another, drawn by the need to end the pain she felt so acutely.

All shei'dalins—all strong empaths, for that matter—felt a similar driving need to heal and bring peace to tormented souls. The only difference was that Ellysetta was somehow able to withstand the pain.

Not because she didn't sense it, though. Instead, it was as if she absorbed the rasa's pain and transformed at least some part of it into the healing light she poured back into them.

A dull throb gathered at Marissya's temples as warriors began streaming into the hall. The rasa did not broadcast their despair like the dahl'reisen, but even well-shielded shei'dalins felt the echoes when a dozen or more rasa gathered together. That was why they lived here, by the Garreval, isolated from the women of their kind.

Gritting her teeth, Marissya spun Spirit tinged with the barest hint of compulsion. «Ellysetta, listen to me. You cannot continue to heal each warrior individually. You will lose yourself long before you are finished.»

"Nei." Ellysetta frowned and shook her head, but gave no other sign that she realized Marissya was "pushing." Still, that frown was enough to make Marissya back off. She'd felt the hard edge of Ellysetta's power earlier today, and she wasn't eager to confront it again.