They held on with clenched fists as a storm picked up—a tempest that tangled hair and clothes together. That merged breaths and skin, even as it tore ragged sobs from their throats.
It lifted them, pulling their feet from the ground with suffocating intensity, but she forced herself to speak—to scream—the final, most important thing above the howling wind.
“You are loved, Lunara!”
Light exploded from within them, shattering the darkness and landscape in one, fell swoop. Both versions of her rose above the sweeping damage. Boulders plummeted and cliffs crumbled, brittle as it all disintegrated beneath the beams of their power, until nothing was left but blinding warmth.
Only one thing left to do.
Lunara wept as she took the damaged creature into herself. Into the safety of her heart. Her skin stretched and her skull ached, ribs and limbs cracking beneath the pressure…
The slightest shift melded the two battered pieces of her and locked them perfectly together. Two halves of a greater whole, joined as one.
She pressed a hand to her chest—to the glowing stone now resting there—and laughed.
It waslike air and breathing. Cool water in the heat. A lover’s kiss amidst down feathers.
Lunara had never known true ease. Had never known herself.
Until now.
Gleaming below the hollow of her collar bones, it was like Illamiata was always and only meant to be hers. Like it had been waiting since the creation of the world to be nestled there. The hum of it was a song in her bones she hadn’t known how to sing before. A chorus that drowned out every twinge and ache and swell. Silenced every weakness. And the power?
It wasconsuming, and it was hers.
“Weeping, fucking shite.” Magnus stood stock-still before her, his eyes wide as saucers.
Araxis appeared at her side, gripping her elbow as her feet touched down. “Behold, the blessed Keeper of Illamiata. You did well, Lunara. Very well.”
Had she ever even felt the floor before? Had her nerves ever fired thus, sending every sensation as they should?
No. Never. And it’s glorious.
Yes. Glorious to feel not just the coolness of the stone beneath her bare soles as she took her first steps, but every worn crack and crevice. Every tiny hole. Every thrum of the energy it had to offer.
“Are you alright, witchling?”
Her laugh tinkled in a manner she’d never heard, delighting her. “In some ways, I feel as though I have never been well until this moment.” Stars above, was that her voice, trilling and warbling like a flock of songbirds?
Yes, you have. With him, you were more than well—you were perfect. Else, what was it all for?
She was right, of course, and a blanket of melancholy tempered the heights of her exhilaration.
Brand. He, his love, was the only thing better than this.
She wanted him back.
Thenyouneed to come back.
A blink, and she centered. A breath, and she settled into corporeality. Into a freshened mind and body that finally knew who it was and what it wanted.
“Thank fuck.” Magnus sagged, cheeks puffing as he loosed a forceful sigh. “There you are. I was worried you were going to be eldritch forever.”
Lunara recoiled. “Eldritch?”
“Aye, everything was glowy and shite. Silvered. Even your hair. And that smile? Ominous as fuck.” He shuddered, even as he smirked at her. “It wasn’t right.”
She shoved her hand in his face, pushing it away. “Mangy arsehole.”
