I’m walking through nothing.
No ground beneath my feet, and yet I walk. No sky above me, and yet there is space. No light and no dark. Just an absence so complete that it’s louder than any sound.
It’s cold here. Wafts of mist leave my mouth each time I exhale.
I don’t know where I am.
I don’t know how long I’ve been here.
I’ve never been so alone. I speak, but there is no sound. This place is noiseless and soulless.
I pick up my pace because I need to get out of here. I have this desperation clawing at me. If I stay, I will die.
I have to find a way out.
How?
There is no direction. No up. No down.
I keep walking.
I stagger to a halt when I see a spark…tiny at first…growing. I run toward it, reaching out.
There’s warmth at the very tips of my fingers. I sigh, and there’s sound.
The warmth moves through my chest, through my ribs. It’s her. Wildflowers and rain. Then it’s gone.
No.
A memory stirs, but it is gone before I can grasp it. It pulls at something inside me, something important, something I should remember but can’t.
It fills me with more determination than ever to find a way out. I have to find her, even if I don’t know who she is.
31
Isla
I wake slowly, cocooned in warmth and the musky smell of animal pelts.
For a few groggy heartbeats, I am unaware. My body is heavy, my limbs stiff, and there’s a dull ache behind my eyes that tells me I’ve been sleeping hard.
I start to stretch, and then everything comes crashing back.
I sit up with a start and check on Sebastian with my heart lodged in my throat. He is on his back. The tunic I put on earlier has ridden up and is bunched up around my hips, and the furs are pulled high over both of us. I must have fallen asleep again. I don’t remember doing it.
The healer came back. She went through a similar routine as before. She didn’t say much. I asked how he was doing, and she gave me a look before clicking her tongue. She shook her head, her expression grave.
It wasn’t encouraging.
He looks the same, only when I press my palm flat against his chest, I think he’s a touch warmer. It might be nothing. It mightbe my own desperate need to believe he’s improving. I spread my fingers wider, feeling for the slow, steady beat of his heart.
As long as his heart beats, there is a chance of saving him.
The fire in the pit has been fed recently. Someone came in while we slept, so it is blessedly warm.
I feel for my magic, and it’s there. I’m still tired and wrung out, but I have more than before.
I have to try again.
