The day I gave birth. Kane holding Krimson up to his face.
Our wedding day under the Red Oaks. Kane.
Sapphire’s first time climbing a tree. Dessin.
Family day in the lagoon. Aquarus.
Krimson and Sapphire’s first day of school. Dessin.
He. Is. Everywhere.
“Oh mygod.” My knees hit the ground; split and bleeding.
Not real. Not real. Just a dream. Is it? Yes. Not real!
The woman who loved Dessin and all of their alters was murdered the day he fell into that coma. Her soul tied to his, burned at the stake and gone. Gone. Gone.
The ashes of that woman fuse back into a familiar form.
Resurrecting and searching for him…
“Dessin…is this real?” I whisper, hand trembling over my mouth.
I won’t let myself lose tears. Not yet. Not now.
Not real. Not real. Not real.
Could be a trick. Mind phantoms. A sweet, aching, longing, tragic dream.
But I focus on the photograph again. Our wedding day. Kane’s yearning, so insanely, cataclysmically in love gaze.
And it knocks the air from my lungs.
“Dessin.” His name gains another heartbeat of life in my mind.
I stand up, holding the fireplace shelf for support.
“Kane…” It makes its way past a whisper.
Chills explode up my back as I see a man standing by the windowsill, staring out at the endless red trees and shimmering lagoon. Hands in pockets. Black slacks and dress shirt.
I know right away it’s not the love of my life.
In fact, the man standing with his back to me isn’t even alive.
“Kaspias?”
Kane’s brother glances at me from over his shoulder, a peaceful smile plays over his mouth. There are no words exchanged. He merely turns back to the window and continues looking ahead.
I choke on a laugh of whimper as my body ruptures with a reckoning. An irrevocable urgency to scour heaven and hell to find him. A blinding perseverance I haven’t been possessed by since the day he went to sleep and did not wake up.
The world around me dissolves to the background like a fading nightmare.
A shockwave pulses through my chest, and I fly forward.
My bare feet pound against the floor, and I do not open the front door—I burst through it.
No room for careful grief. I sprint with confidence. With certainty.
