“For the mate of my son would I freely bleed. Accept this gift, and awaken, my daughter.”
She swam and scraped and dragged, trying to emerge. To get closer to the calloused hand gently sweeping the curls from her face as the smell of copper permeated the shadows.
“You are mine as much as the others now, for the mate of my son is a child of my heart. Take my gift, freely given, and mend, Lunara.”
Closer to the warm lips landing upon her brow, even as an iron tang met her tongue.
“For the mate of our brother would we bleed—now our own sister. Take our gifts, freely given, and heal.”
Closer to the procession of powerful bodies, each giving more than the last.
“Give it up, witchling. You won’t find him in sleep, and I refuse to lose you both.”
Closer to the strong arms holding her in hopeful silence, tears that weren’t her own falling upon her skin. They burned where they struck and brought her own flooding forward.
She tried to share their words—sending them into the deepest parts of herself to show him he was loved, even when it was her they were tending to—but he’d gone. Just like that. There one second, holding as tight to her presence as she was to his, and then nothing the next. Like he was… Like he’d…
She couldn’t let herself think the word. Couldn’t imagine living in a world so cruel and empty. There was an explanation. She just had to get the fuck out of wherever she was to find him.
“Everything happens when and how it should—I’ve made sure of it.”
She shivered within, nerves waking and firing with every gentle syllable the Voice spoke into her.
“Yes, that’s it. You heard them, moth. The Veil is not ready for you yet. Your mate needs you. The realms need you. And someday, well… you’ll see.”Power of a strange and familiar sort pummeled into her mind, her body, and light sparkled across her lids.“Take my own offering, my friend, my sister. It’s time, just as destiny demands. Wake up!”
That bellowed command, in a voice she’d tried to ignore for as long as she could remember, was the final push she needed to tear through the barrier of their mated mind. To pull herself away from the heartbreak of not feeling him, just for a little while.
Just until she could find him.
A shockof otherworldly strength jolted through Lunara’s veins, jerking her against roughened hands that sought to steady her. Air filled her lungs near to bursting, the first true draw of breath she’d had since…
Since Brand had beentaken.
She used it to finally free the screams outside of herself.
Denial, raw and violent, shredded her control and Lunara released her agony. Knees buckled and hit the floor. Hands clapped over ears. Grunts and groans sounded. She heard it, sensed them fighting against the wretched sounds coming from her, but she didn’t care.
Light poured from her body, pulsing and battering in waves, her power seeking all possible routes to funnel away before it could shatter her apart.
She subjected them to every jagged shard of her heartbreak. Every ounce of her fury. Every drop of her misery.
Let whoever it was feel a fraction of what she did. Let them hear her torment. Her utter revulsion that she was withouthim.
On and on, until the air in her lungs ceased to exist, and she was forced to gasp. Out and in again, mingling with her strangled sobs.
“That’s it, Lunara. Steady now. Just breathe.”
Magnus’s voice was an anchor in the storm. She did what he said, focusing to steady her breath. Trying to blink away the tears that wouldn’t stop coming.
There was no point in the effort, so she gave up and let them flow as Magnus rocked her, back and forth, helping her to come back to herself little by little.
“Aye, you’re alright. I’m here. We’re here.”
A ragged inhale brought a semblance of calm—if the burdened, hopeless numbing of her limbs could be called such a thing. “Oh, Mag—” she started, but couldn’t finish.
“Ach, there she is,” he said, voice gruff as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. “Finally deigned to grace us with your presence then, witchling?”
She shifted her head to look up into the eyes of her friend. His face was haggard and tear-streaked. Dark circlesand shadows had replaced the laughter that usually gilded his features, and his beard was an overlong mess, but she was strangely glad because it meant he understood.
