With a sigh, I start to peel the wet layers of clothes off my shivering body. The water was frigid, but the spring air has a nice, temperate feel to it, even at this time of the night. At least I’m still alive. For now. I can’t decide if the Father is trying to keep me alive despite the odds or if He’s trying to kill me but continues to fail. Hopefully the former is true. I have little desire to battle with gods.
My muscles tense, a cold dread washing over me as I only now recall being dragged out of the water by someone. I glance around, but the night remains eerily still; only the river’s gentle gurgle over smooth stones breaks the silence. Whoever my savior is, they’re gone now.
I force myself to relax. Leaving my clothes to dry on the stones by the riverside, I lie down on a large flat rock, cherishing the warm breeze. It smells of earth and flowers. I close my eyes, drinking in a deep breath. It smells of... freedom. I flip onto my back with a sigh of contentment.
Above me, countless tiny lights dance to a symphony of their own in the darkness. I lie completely still, afraid to break the spell, shivering slightly as goose bumps prickle my bare skin. I have been in Rea for less than one night, and I have already seen more beauty here than my whole life in Bronich. It is all so mesmerizingly beautiful. The many moons’ ethereal glow paints the landscape in iridescent hues, and I glimpse, for a fleeting instant, the threads of the soul stars, each a wisp of gold, ready to be played like a string.
Lulled by the warm air and gentle breeze, I rest my head on my satchel, wondering which of the billions of stars holds my fate, and before I know it, I’m asleep.
It’s one of those dreams where I’m aware I’m dreaming, a strange, lucid state where the world feels both real and unreal at the same time. Wherever I am, it is beautiful. Nothing like anything I’ve ever seen before. And although there’s a strange glow behind the jagged snowcapped mountain peaks glistening in the east, it must be evening. One by one, the golden soul stars emerge on the deep blue night sky, their gossamer-thin threads intertwining, weaving a shimmering golden tapestry.
Floating weightlessly, I gaze down at the vast field of flowers below, their delicate heads nodding gently in the evening breeze, their fragrance sweet and subtle. I glimpse movement in the distance and glide closer, watching two people who seem to be... fighting? No, not fighting. Upon closer inspection, I notice they’re sparring. I’ve seen the city guards in Bronich perform a similar drill enough times to recognizeit, but compared to these, two the city guards looked like children in a play fight. These two aredancing.And... I frown. Is that awoman?
“Got you. Again.” The woman’s smile spreads from ear to ear, revealing small canines as she straddles the man and slams a dagger into his shoulder.
I wince.What in damnation?
To my surprise, the man only laughs. Grabbing its hilt, he pulls the dagger out and tosses it to the side, his skin knitting flawlessly back together. Rising to his feet, a myriad of midnight-blue threads flickering with gold reach out from him, lifting the woman off, tying her limbs into a tight knot. “I’d lose to you any day, mi na, but we both knowI’dwin if we included magic in our sparring.”
The woman glares at him, wiggling like a worm. “Let me out of here, Aster, or I swear I’ll stab you straight through the heart the next time.”
“No, you won’t.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest with a satisfied smirk. “You love me way too much.”
She snorts. “Then admit it,” she says as she’s freed from her bonds, “Iamthe better fighter of us.”
He raises his eyebrows.
“When magic is not involved,” she adds with a huff.
He purses his lips. “You are good. I’ll give you that.”
Floating closer, I notice how his eyes have the warm color of honey, while his hair is a deep blue—like the hue of the night sky now that the strange light behind the mountains is about to disappear. He must be the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes upon. His tawny skin glows in the dim light, and his bare arms and chest—sculpted to perfection—are covered in intricate golden glyphs. Pushing a hand through his hair, he clears away the messy blue waves that keep falling into his eyes. His expression turns serious.
“Still, he cannot be trusted. It is better I deal with him myself.” He stares toward the distant jagged peaks.
“I’ll be fine, Aster,” the woman says. It’s clear they’ve had this discussion several times before. “I’ll be there and back in no time.” She places a hand on his jaw, holding his gaze. “This is between me and him.”
He places his hand on top of hers. “Still don’t have to like it.”
The two of them are similar yet not; they move with the same agility and grace, and they have the same golden skin, and from what I can see, she, too, carries glyphs, if not as many as him. But the similarities stop there. Whereas he’s easily seven feet or more, she’s petite next to him, the top of her head barely reaching the center of his chest. Her eyes are a stunning deep violet, surrounded by a dark limbal ring that makes them sparkle like the amethysts some of the ladies in Bronich wear, and her intricately braided long hair is an iridescent white that keeps changing color. I also notice how her ears have the same slight point to them as Llyr’s, marking her as Rean.
“I still don’t like it.” His jaw ticks. “He is not himself anymore. I don’t trust him.”
“I know, mi caeur. I know. Yet it has to be done.”
They stare wordlessly into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity, as if they have some way to communicate without words. It’s hard to tell. Whatever is going on, it makes her nod her agreement, and he pulls her into a tight embrace.
“I am lost without you, Nana,” he whispers in her ear. “You know that.”
I sigh at the inescapable longing in his voice. What a hauntingly beautiful thing to say—that whatever you are doing, wherever you may be, you are all the same, enormouslylostwithout them.
She hushes him, reaching her arms up, twining her fingers into his midnight-blue waves, pulling his mouth down toward hers.
I know I shouldn’t be watching, but I can’t help it. The kiss is deep and passionate. His hands roam every curve of her body, and all I can do is stare in fascination as Aster slides a hand in slow motion up theinside of her exposed thigh, causing a warm, unfamiliar tingle inside of me. His hand disappears under her short tunic.
“So wet,” he growls, holding her upright with his other arm as her knees start to give out on her. Kissing her deeply, he bites her lip, causing blood to trickle down her chin. Licking the blood off, he growls even deeper. Midnight threads wrap around her waist, lifting her up, his magic holding her suspended as her legs entwine around his waist.
Nana throws her head back in a deep moan. Her knee-length tunic is hiked up around her thighs, and although it still conceals her backside, their expressions and the sounds of pleasure make it quite clear what’s happening.
