“I have to get her back.” I pet his nose and with a labored breath, I grab the crone's hands.
The world goes dark around me, the wind biting my ears and cheeks, but through the mirth and fog, a forest comes into view and I’m slipping away. Out of this body and into another.
I stand with Elora by my side, our hands clasped tightly together, the sting of our freshly cut wounds a distraction from the gale howling around us. I stare at her profile. At her strong nose and golden hair whipping wildly around her. She is so much the same and yet, there is something so different about her.
“Elor—” I open my mouth to speak but the words are muffled and faint.
“The deal is done.” One of the old crones steps forward. A wicked smile split across her weathered face. Though they look the same, there are three of them now. Their black fingernails and teeth are sharp and glinting under the moonlight.
Elora flinches at my side as leaves and debris swirl around them, creating a tunnel of earth and wind, obscuring my vision.
“Enchantresses shall bear a piece of Mother Gaia, their magick will preserve what you’ve built in Teravie. They will help bridge the gap between magick and non-magick, just as you’ve asked.”
What we’ve built?
A branch breaks from a tree, spiraling between us, breaking our hands apart.
“And in return?” Elora shouts, though her voice is nothing more than a whisper against the storm.
The three crones chuckle; their laughs amplified by a sudden gust. A strand of Elora’s hair pulls loose from her golden crown, blocking her eyes. She pushes the hair back, now soaked from the rain, and her eyes widen as the Fates begin to speak together.
“Your souls are bonded.” Their voices begin to fade as the wind increases. “You are bound to each other; you are bound to Teravie. And when Mother Gaia calls for aid, you will answer. You will follow. In any lifetime. For however long. Your souls belong to Her now.”
We both jump as a crack of lightning splits across the sky. Through the torrent of the storm, her hand finds mine. A flurry of yellow flashes between us.
A goldfinch.
She steadies herself before returning her attention to the Fates.
“The truth will reveal itself in time,” the crones mutter, their tattered black robes blowing in the wind.
I open my mouth to question them, but another forceful gust blows us both backward. We tumble to the muddy forest, separating as we do. The rain bites my skin and stings my eyes. I grapple for Elora’s hand but come up empty.
“Soleil!” I hear myself yell against the groaning trees and downpour, not entirely sure why that was the name that left my mouth and not Elora.
She screams back but it sounds so far away. I reach for her again but am too late before the light of the moon snuffs out behind a sheet of black clouds, sealing us in total darkness.
She screams my name over and over again as I did hers and when the wind finally dies and the stars begin to shine my throat is hoarse and dry.
Scrambling to my feet, I find her a few feet next to me.
She lies on a bed of earth, around her broken branches and leaves. Moss sticks to her hair and when she sits up, she stifles a cry.
She reaches under herself and gasps, using her free hand to cover her mouth as she brings forth from the ground four glowing stones.
I’m pulled from the memory like a fish from water. Gasping, I clutch my chest. My lungs, burning and begging for relief.
“Do you see now, King?” The crones circle around me. “You and Soleil have been brought back. She,Mother Gaia,has brought you back, to save Teravie. She has called in her bargain and you have one chance to make this right.”
My lungs burn. “It’s not possible.”
“Isn’t it?” They step closer, stealing the oxygen around me. “Tell us, King, have you no memory of your past life? Have no intuition of all the love you had before?” The crones sniff the air, their heads tilted back. “Deep down, Bastian. You already believe it.”
My breathing is shallow as I take in their words. As I recall each and every moment with Elora before this.
Have we met before?Some of my first words to her on the bank of the Galdosa River. I was sure even then; she was no stranger to me. Her lightning touch, the way her body molds tomine. The instant connection and familiarity. The acute sense of home when she’s wrapped in my arms.
I fall to my knees. Visions of storms and forests and a goldfinch playing in my mind. Visions I thought of our future, now I realize, were actually our past.
