Slowly, he took in his surroundings.
He was at a market, littered with scents and colors that were like home to him, having come to this market with his parents since he was a wee bairn.
He noted the silence, straining his little fae ears to hear anything, but they didn’t oblige. Worst yet, what he’d mistaken for textiles strewn about, were bodies.
An image of his parents flashed in his mind, and a fresh wave of panic like he’d never experienced had him bolting upright. He sprinted toward home as fast as his short legs would take him, doing his best to pretend the bodies were logs in a forest as he dodged the recumbent fae littering the double-wide path.
He rounded the corner to the front of a beautifully maintained villa. It was rustic in a way. The most exquisite fall blossoms were vibrant against the stunning reds and oranges of the fall leaves that crawled up the stone face of the manor. It was warm. Beautiful. It was home.
He watched his feet on the stone path, knowing he’d fallen one too many times to make that mistake again.
Coming to the back of the house at full speed, he stopped so hard his knees buckled.
There, he stared down at his father, who lay on his stomach, an arm outstretched. Endymion’s eyes reluctantly trailed the directionof his father’s focus to find his mother. She was on her side, curled into herself, flowers in hand as if she’d been foraging on her knees for the bouquet’s finishing touches, falling to her side when the curse had claimed her.
“Momma!” his tiny voice croaked, and I knew I’d never forget the broken desperation in his voice for as long as I lived.
He ran to her, placing his hands on her side to shake her like he’d done with the first body. “Momma. Get up. Momma!”
Pulling his little hands away, he noted the small specks of blood he’d left on her white blouse from his fall.
Tears now falling freely, he closed his eyes in concentration and reached for his power. He knew he was too young, that the Mother wouldn’t heed his call. But he silently begged, pleaded, and grasped for any flicker of magic so that he might heal her—heal them. He tried to remember what he’d learned. Remembered his father telling him it would be a time before he could talk to his magic, and that she would listen.
Tears continued to roll down his cheeks as he tried again and again and again
Eventually, exhaustion came calling for him.
Defeated, he did the only thing he knew. Lifting his mother’s arm, he slid under it and nestled into the front of her, resting his head on her other one. Pulling the top arm over him, he hugged her hand into his chest, and like they’d done countless times before, he pretended that she was asleep. He lay in the warmth of her embrace, his body finally succumbing to exhaustion, his prayers to the Mother unanswered.
I was thrust out of the memory so violently it was as if the internal turmoil of the child had fractured something in Endymion, throwing me into a succession of memories so quick I could barely grasp their meaning.
Then, it all stopped, and I was standing as me in a place that was eerily similar to the void, only it lacked its beauty.
A deep, familiar voice pulled my attention. “No, Little Star, you can’t be here.”
Chapter 64
Within Reach
“Endymion!” I didn’t hesitate before I made for him.
He held a hand up for me to stop, but it was the hard look he gave me that had me halting dead in my tracks. Brows knitting in confusion, my heart thundered in my chest as unease crept through me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice unsteady.
Shaking his head, he said, “I’ve already told you a thousand times, you can’t be here. It’s too dangerous.”
As if to demonstrate this truth, he grabbed a small pebble from his pocket and tossed it forward. The instant it hit an invisible barrier no more than an arm’s length from him, it sizzled before bursting apart with a loud crack. I flinched but dared another step forward, even as his expression turned murderous.
“I told you to leave!” he bellowed, but it was fear that radiated off of him, not anger.
I understood then what was happening—if anyone could spot a dream loop, it was me. I cringed inwardly, wondering how many times he’d seen a version of me step through the barrier despite his pleas.
Raising my hands as if approaching a skittish animal, I offered him a soft smile. “Endymion, it’s me.”
Confusion flashed across his stunning features before pained anguish resurfaced. “I can’t watch you die again.” He shook his head. “I just… can’t.”
I didn’t think my shattered heart could fracture more, but it found a way as he stared at me in utter defeat before turning away.
