Lunara. Lunara… Luna?
A disjointed memory flashed within her, the impression of auburn hair brushing her cheek as a gravelly voice—a different voice—whispered that name into her ear with the utmost reverence.
Luna. Little moon.
The vision grabbed hold and tempted her to turn back, forced her to remember this wasn’t how it should be happening. There was supposed to be a rough hand holding hers, going with her, a shy smile urging her on.
The female that had spoken crouched at the edge, sifting black sand through her fingers.
“You’re not supposed to be here?”
Her head snapped up. “I know your voice. You’re the one…”
“I know your face.”
Knew the deep bronze of her skin and that lavender mass of curls. Sheknewit, but why?
“I think you’re right. I… don’t think this is where I’m meant to be, either.”
“You’ve got that fucking straight, mate.” She stood, verdant wings of gossamer fluttering out behind her when she threw her arms out. “How are you supposed to help me if we’re both in this cunting wasteland?”
“Help… you?”
It hit like a violent tidal wave, images and memory crashing over her.
Shewas Lunara, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to fucking be here.
Neither wasFern.
She lunged forward and grasped the Fae’s hand.
“LUNARA!”
On a gasp, she regained her consciousness. Every inch of her hurt—a throbbing, all-consuming pain working to disconnect her mind from her body. She blinked against it, all of her energy directed towards trying to focus.
A salty breeze blew through absolute carnage, swirling the sienna dust as it settled into the chaos of shattered glass and crumbled stone. She watched, panic blooming, as the tiny specks landed on her skin like red mist, seamlessly joining the steady flow of blood leaving her from countless lacerations.
She snapped her gaze around the room, unable to reconcile the scene before her.
It was the stars shining innocently above, unimpeded, that shocked her out of her confusion. A scream of denial lodgeditself in her throat as she railed silently against what her eyes were showing her.
The massive glass dome that should’ve been crowning the tower was instead all around her, on top of her,in her.
No, no, no.
“Help me clear it. Pet can sense her wee heart beating, but she’s barely bloody alive. She hasn’t got much time.”
Lunara registered shouting and wails in the distance as she became more aware, muffled somewhat by a string of harsh curses nearby. Bricks shifted and collapsed across the room where the door should’ve been, tattooed skin and blond hair flashing before disappearing into the chaos once more. She tried to form words, to call for help so he’d know where she was, but nothing would come.
More swearing sounded to the tune of crunching glass beneath heavy footfalls before a massive windowpane was at last lifted from her chest and tossed aside.
“Ah shite, witchling.” Magnus reached down to clear more debris away and knelt beside her. “I’m sorry for this next part.”
His eyes never left hers as his arms banded around her broken body, forcing a strangled whimper to push itself past dry lips when he lifted her from the floor.
“We’ll not find him here amongst all this, will we lass?” he rasped, eyes brimming with the same tears she felt pouring from her own.
She barely stomached the answering shake of her head. Tears broke free of his blond lashes and cut rivers through the grime clinging to his cheeks and beard.
