“This is not real.”
“No, it isn’t.” Her voice rings out, and gods, I could cry at the sound of it. At how it soothes a part of me that has felt so desperately alone these past weeks. “I’m sorry I could not reach you sooner. Manipulating his magic is not easy, and were he to figure out I’ve even donethis, it would likely upset him.”
“Who?”
“The one who occupies the Middle with me.”
I reach the end of the row and, this time, continue forward, my toes curling into the thick blades of grass. A treeline of thickly woven branches waits before me, and as I reach it, I brush my hands over the rough bark. It scratches at my palms, but the sensation isn’t unwelcome because with it comes the nostalgia of being home.
“Why does this place feel like I’ve been here before?”
“I cannot say,” Selene answers, her voice thick with sadness. I look around at the fallen leaves littering the forest floor, different shades that remind me of my favorite time of year. And of my favorite person. “You miss him?” she asks, then chuckles as if realizing how absurd the question is.
I stop in front of a particularly thick tree. The center is carved out but only enough so it’s the right size for me to fit into.“Yes. His missing presence haunts me every waking moment and every time I close my eyes.” My fingers dig into the bark as I hoist myself up, nails scraping while I tuck into the hollow, the action driven by something instinctual. A small blanket and a book are already laid out and waiting for me. “Is this what it is to love?” I ask.“To hurt and rejoice all in the same breath?”
“You will see each other again,” she says after a moment, and I wish I didn’t hear her twinge of uncertainty.
I sit cross-legged on the blanket, noting my strange clothes. They are tattered, cinched high on my ankles as if I’ve grown too big for them. My gaze lifts and snags on all of the etchings on the inside of the tree, my clothing now forgotten. The drawings are done by someone with a much steadier hand than my own. My nail traces the outline of one, its shape like the tree I sit in, branches stretching high overhead where they touch the edges of a cloud. Beyond the cloud are small dots that I think are stars, a thin line connecting them all.
“Constellations?”
“Yes. Ones that are visible from Olymazi.”
I smile as my finger follows the lines, that same contentment I felt entering the woods blooming in my gut again.
“Rhea, we don’t have much time, but I want to make sure you know something.”
“And what is that?”
Selene sighs, and the scenery around me flickers—as if lightning has struck close by. “I know that you have struggled with being forced to use—and not use—your magic.”
I laugh, the strained sound the only response I can muster.
“I know my word choice is poor, but even as you endure horrible things, you must remain strong. Resilient. Your fortitude will continue to be tested, but I have faith, Rhea, that you will find freedom. You’ve already withstood so much, and I am so very proud of you.”
I lean my back against the tree, a different carving catching my eye. “I can’t help but feel like there is bad news following all of that.”
Her long bout of silence is damning. “As you know, I cannot say anything that would violate the deal I made, and though I can see glimpses of the future, it has always come in fragments. More often than not, I can’t make it into a complete picture until right before the event happens.”
“That must be frustrating.” My head tilts to the side as I trace the outline of… atower. Stone bricks make up the exterior, its base set near a body of water. There is no bridge depicted, but vines trail from a balcony where two figures—one taller than the other—are standing. Goosebumps break out over my skin.
“It is, because my magic is changing. Warping ashisdoes. And making it very difficult to see what I’ve always been shown before.”
My hand brushes against the book near my feet, its cover turned away from me. “And what is it you’ve been shown before?”
“You.”
A voice calls out in the forest but I don’t pay it any attention as I pick up the book, my brow scrunching at how low large it looks in my grip. I stifle a gasp when I turn the book over, revealing its title.
“There you are!” A woman’s voice startles me, and the book falls onto my lap. “I should have expected to find you here!” Light brown freckles dust over fair skin, her hair an unmistakable shade of honey blonde.
“Of course, Mama. It’s my favorite spot.” A child’s voice rings out and it takes me a moment to realize that it’s come from me. Or, rather, the body I seem to be occupying.
“Selene, whose dream is this?”
The woman outside smiles before extending her hand out for me. “Come on, my Little Sun. Papa has made your favorite for dinner.” I climb from the tree and take her hand, a new emotion roiling through me. It takes a moment to realize it isjoy.
My surroundings flicker again, and abruptly I’m no longer the little girl but a stranger watching as she and her mother walk away, their identical honey-blonde hair swaying against their backs.
