A small figure straightened from the shadows. A child.
“Please…please help me.” The voice was fragile, raw.
Astraia’s jaw clenched. She turned around, tugging the tarp aside just enough to let in a sliver of light. What she saw made her breath catch.
Two bodies lay on a cot against the wall—gray, still, and long past saving. Flies circled lazily, undisturbed. And in the corner,barely standing, was a girl no older than six, skin stretched thin over bone, eyes hollow with hunger and grief. The red marks of Plague bloomed across her face and arms, cruel and dark.
Slowly, the girl raised her head to meet Astraia’s eyes. Tears streaked through the dirt on her cheeks as she spoke.
“Please. Please help me,” she pleaded once more, panic in her eyes.
Astraia, staring back at the little girl, nodded, and motioned for her to come toward her. The girl hesitated, but stepped forward, her feet bare.
Astraia found a piece of rope on a small table and tied the tattered tarp back to allow some semblance of light into the room. When she turned back around, the girl was trembling, her head bowed.
“I—I don’t want to make you sick. I made my mama and papa sick, and now they’re gone,” the girl sobbed between breaths. “It’s all my fault they’re gone.”
Astraia knelt on the ground before her and gently tipped the child’s chin up to meet her gaze. “I am not afraid,” she reassured the girl, tucking a small strand of her hair behind her ear.
The girl’s eyes widened at her touch, no doubt worried the simple graze would transmit the deadly disease. Butshewas not concerned about death. He was her constant companion, pursuing her to no avail—her Sacrifice bond made sure his claws never sunk in too deep.
Astraia’s eyes softened as she gazed into the girl’s green eyes. Another set of emerald-green eyes flickered through her mind, and a sad smile curved her lips. She shook the memory away and spoke softly.
“It is not your fault. Now, I can help you—but you must promise me one thing first.”
The girl blinked through her tears and nodded.
Astraia locked eyes with her. “You must not speak to anyone about what you are about to see. Not one soul. If anyone asks about your parents, you tell them they died—and you fled before the Red Death reached you. Understand?”
Again, the girl nodded slowly.
“Good. Now, close your eyes.”
The child obeyed, squeezing her eyelids shut tightly.
Astraia flexed her fingers and took a slow, deep breath, doing her best to ignore the reek of rot in the air. She reached inward. It didn’t take long, seconds maybe, before she felt it – a tingling at the base of her neck, spreading warmth down her spine and through her limbs.
Astraia closed her eyes and let the warmth consume her. She saw her favorite memory flicker to life in her mind, blurring the dank room around her.
She was sitting with Elion on the small hill overlooking the beach, staring at the Aetherdeep Sea as its waves lapped on the sand. The sea breeze blew through her hair and the sun warmed her pale skin.
“You are impossible,” she snapped, elbowing his muscular arm.
“Life would be incredibly boring for you if I was not.” He smiled, laughing as he dodged another elbow jab.
The hillside grew brighter until the light overtook the flashback, dissolving the image and searing it into the back of her eyes.
Anchoring herself to the memory, she let the warmth build in her fingertips until she could sense the light before she saw it. When she opened her eyes, her hands glowed a soft blue—her Sacrifice bond. It cut through the darkness of the room with ease, erasing the shadows in an instant. The light was as familiar as breathing, and still, it amazed her every time.
Heat gained momentum in her body, threatening to overtake her, but she tugged on that blissful memory that anchored her—the thin thread that prevented her from a full flare and burnout. The glow steadied to an even pulse from her palms as she placed her hands gently on either side of the child’s face.
The girl flinched at first, squeezing her eyes tighter, but relaxed as Astraia’s warm hands remained. Astraia coaxed the bond forward, her blessing and curse from Sacrifice—the Star of healing.
The fear melted from the girl’s face, and the dark circles under her eyes dissipated in seconds. Red marks of the plague faded as well, leaving behind not even a scar of what once afflicted her skin. Her bones filled out, skin flushed with health, lips tinged pink. Even the girl’s hair gained shine and luster in the few seconds Astraia’s hands made contact with her skin.
Astraia pulled her hands away, tightening the inner tether. She placed the memory inside the box she kept only for him and pushed it down into the safe haven of her inner thoughts, separated from the whispers that fueled her nightmares. That even with her Starborne ability, she was still not enough—that she could not save the one person in the world who mattered.
As soon as the lid closed on the box and his smile faded, the light vanished. The room was plunged once again into darkness, except for the fragment of sunlight from the doorway.
