Lessia looked at her own eyes again, and the fire that had raged in them seemed to burn hotter. Red and gold tangled within them, and her eyes widened when something thundered behind them, a roar that sounded like nothing she’d ever heard before.
As she looked up once more, Lessia’s every sense surged.
Spheres of flame fell from the sky, peppering the hill behind them and splitting the ground open, forcing a crack like the one in the mirror to divide the island into two.
Lessia could only watch as one side was set aflame, the trees and bushes shriveling up so quickly that the black dust they left behind swirled across the water now separating the two parts. Another bellow shook the ground, and drops of sweat formed across her forehead when the hill on which her home had stood opened to a maw of heated liquid, spewing from the top and rolling down the hill, right toward?—
Lessia screamed when she realized one of the younggirls had been trapped on the other side, running for her life from the burning orbs, the dust covering every inch of her face until she was entirely unrecognizable. Her hair was now raven, and her eyes reflected the green and brown of the earth—and whatever the hot liquid was now rushing down the hill.
“No!” Lessia screamed when the girl seemed to take the wrong path, getting trapped between a rising cliff and the scorching liquefied fire coming at her.
“Lessia.” She looked up at Merrick, but he was as calm as ever. “Lessia,” he pleaded again.
But she couldn’t respond. Not when the world around them began to melt. Not when she didn’t understand what was happening.
“Lessia.”
Her knees buckled.
“Lessia!”
Lessia’s eyes flew open, and she gasped when she once again stared into Merrick’s dark ones.
“You’re having a nightmare,” Merrick whispered, his arms pulling her to his chest. “It’s all right. I am here.”
She blinked at him before moving her gaze around the bright space, over the lanterns Merrick had lit and placed along the walls.
They were in the room at the inn. Outside the small window, the starry sky still hung, the open pane letting in a cool breeze. There were no roars of nature, only the sounds of people milling about, of water rippling. From somewhere a soft tune found its way into the night.
She wiped at her damp forehead before turning back to him, laying her head on his chest as she looked up at him, wishing for her racing heart to mimic his low thumping beats.
“It was a nightmare,” Merrick echoed, his words hushed. “You wanted to sleep before we went out to eat and clean up.”
“It was only a dream?” Lessia whispered.
She could still smell the smoke—the strange, pungent smell of the liquid that had spilled out of the hill.
Merrick stared at her, his eyes moving between hers. “Did it not feel like it?”
She shook her head. “No.”
It hadn’t felt like a dream at all. She wasn’t a stranger to nightmares—had stayed up for far too many nights because of them—but this… whatever that had been?
“I don’t know what it was, but it was no dream.”
Merrick studied her for a moment. “Then it was no dream. Will you tell me about it?”
Lessia nodded, and as she recounted everything, even the children—although she hesitated for a few moments because she didn’t want Merrick’s gaze to fill with more sorrow than it already held when he thought she wasn’t looking—he only nodded, his features shifting with every bit of information as if he was taking it all in and evaluating every detail.
As she finished, she eyed him back, wondering if he’d think her crazy. But Merrick only leaned down to press his lips against hers, his hands moving to her cheeks to angle her so he could deepen the kiss when she responded.
As he pulled back, Merrick threw a quick look out the window before returning his eyes to hers. “There is someone… I don’t know if he is still alive. But we could try to visit him on the way. I’ve… I’ve been wondering lately how much he knows.”
“Who?” Lessia asked as she sat up, her hands pressing into the soft mattress.
“He’s my old commander,” Merrick responded as he also got up, taking the jacket he’d left on the chair beside the bed and pulling it on. “He… When we were at the Lakes of Mirrors, Preysaih called me Guardian of Death. That’s what my old commander used to call me as well. I’ve… I’ve never heard anyone else do it. I don’t know if it’s just a strange coincidence, but it’s the only thing I can think of connected to this.”
“The mirrors. You think it’s something about the mirrors,” Lessia breathed, and Merrick nodded, his features hard—but not because of her.
