“Didn’t you say you could sense Azur? If he needs you, I suppose he can contact you.”
“Fine,” she mutters, her eyes infinitely sad. She then stops and stays behind.
Had this been any other day, I’d explain the situation better to her, but now I need to get to Astra, and my own heart is already overflowing with sorrow, voicing its anguish with furious, fast beats.
The sound of water reaches my ears, and I dash to a stream and jump in it, then plead to the Nymphs to take me in their flow, to take me to that island on the Crossing River.
There’s something wrong with Astra, and even if it’s not the same fear and desperation I felt when she was attacked, she’s in distress, perhaps in pain—and calling me. I can hear her.
For long, tortuous seconds, I’m immersed in that shallow stream, my booted feet touching the bottom, my skin prickling with anxiety, wondering if there’s any nymph activity here, if they can take me where I need, hoping to reach Astra before anything bad happens to her.
“Please,” I mouth, hoping they can transcend me in their currents, dreading each and every second I have to wait, each and every second Astra’s call goes unanswered.
I have an agreement with the nymphs, but in a time like this, when fear coats my skin and chills my bones, I wonder if they’ll change their mind and leave me here drowning in my desperation to reach my wife.
Or maybe I should try to find a larger river. Who knows how long it will take me to get there? Who knows if I’ll reach her in time?
Right as hope is about to leave me, the water around me shifts and a current of magic pulls me into a swirl. I’m spinning like my mind, traveling through water, transcended by the nymphs.
When the swirl stops, I’m at the Crossing River. Behind me, I see the island where I camped with Astra not so long ago. And I also see her, crouched, moonlight illuminating her hair, making it look purple.
I don’t know how I breach the distance between us, all I know is that I have my arms around her, feeling her chest against mine.
She leans her soft face on my chest. “You came.”
I squeeze her tight, wishing I could never let her go. “Did you have any doubts?”
Astra also hugs me tighter, her head still buried in my chest. As I look at her, I realize it’s her hair that’s purple, so much like my dreams. I hold her like that for a moment, then place a hand under her chin, moving her head so that I can face her.
“Are you hurt?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her eyes wide, distress written on her face. She has no apparent wounds, and yet she doesn’t look well. At least the danger is not imminent, and for that I’m relieved, even if I’m still worried. I’m so happy to see her alive that I could kiss her until eternity, but when I touch her lips, she recoils, covers her mouth, and shakes her head.
“Disgusting,” she mumbles.
I shouldn’t feel hurt, upset, or rejected, and yet her words sting. I put my hands around my mouth to check if I have bad breath, but she slaps them.
“Me,” she says. “My mouth’s the most disgusting thing in the world.”
“Never.” I pinch her chin and move to kiss her, but she recoils and points at something on the ground, beside us.
There’s a pool of something—vomit. All right. I can see her point, even if I’d still kiss her.
And there’s a man—Azur—lying down, his long blond hair spread around him. For a moment, I wonder if he’s dead, but then I notice he’s looking at us, mild curiosity in his blue eyes.
“Did he hurt you?” I ask Astra.
“No, but he’s wounded.”
I frown. “Is that good or bad?”
I don’t know if she wants me to kill him or help him.
“Bad, obviously.” Her voice is still weak, and I realize it’s because of her nausea. “Also, he needs to be hidden. And there’s that.” She points to a round rock on the ground.
Not a rock.
A severed head. I understand why she’s feeling so distressed, so disgusted, and pull her closer. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’ll throw it far away. It can’t hurt you.”
