The RuneTree, her branches reaching to the heavens, her roots deep in the erthe, and the chimeric pulsing through her veins. The same chimeric that now pulsed through mine. I could lose myself in these patterns. I could dive forever and stay deep.
“Your chimeric brightens it, Aro’el,” he said. “Tightens it, spins a sharper, very distinct chord. It is glorious.”
Even with my eyes closed, I could see the runes that wove his body. They beat his heart and danced through his muscles.He was almost a part of the Worldrune, indistinguishable from it, and I found the intoxicating rhythm that was Kier Gavriel Thanavar. I found it, and I leaned in.
“Dry’ash na hud,”he said, his voice distant yet powerfully near.“Dry’ash na nar.”
“Dry’ash na hud. Dry’ash na nar.”
“Keep the incant in the front of your mind,” he said. “And now, think of the creature you wish to mirror. No sharks, please. Lessons would be problematic.”
Yes, definitely a joke. I was getting to know how he thought, and I liked it.
“No sharks, I promise,” I murmured. “No wyrmaids. No dragon eels to munch my toes nor whales to swallow me whole.”
Tumbling, spiralling, falling into the glorious abyss.
“Direct your thoughts and relax,” his voice drummed my heart. “Think of the mirror.”
He was a winter hawk.
I could be a hawk. Or I could be his mirror. I could be anything I wanted, but the truth was, I wanted him. He was night. I would be morning. He was the depths, I the stars in the midnight sky.
“Now, focus on your skin.”
No matter what I became, he could catch me. He would hold.
And he took my hand.
I gasped as the chimeric shot through my palm, up my wrist, and into my jaw. Colors and patterns, rune and line. I could have lost myself in bliss at the sensations. I could have tumbled into his arms full of magik. I would eagerly fall.
I felt his breath on the side of my face and opened one eye a crack. Suns, he was so close. He was right there.
“You’re a runechaser, yes?” I asked.
“For years. I said close your eyes.”
I obeyed, heady with this gentle sparring, delirious with his touch.
He pushed my linen sleeve up past my elbow, revealing the runescars that covered every inch of my exposed skin. I didn’t need my eyes to know that they glittered with chimeric light, as beautiful as the stars in the heavens.
He was a runechaser, and I was covered in rune.
Forge. I was falling. He would catch me.
“Say the incant,” he said. “And think of your mirror.”
But I would not be a winter hawk.
“Dry’ash na hud. Dry’ash na nar.”
“Again.”
“Dry’ash na hud. Dry’ash na nar.”
“Again.”
And with a deep breath, he tugged my wrist and ran his fingers down my arm, brushing my skin with the lightest of touches but leaving blinding fire in their wake.
