Sylaira was a Seer too.
Tears streaked her cheeks as she held her friend through the agony of Sight.
Why did she never tell me?Heraphia thought, sorrow threading in her bones. But then, she’d never told Sylaira of her power either.
Heraphia rocked them both, trying to soothe away the trauma that came with the Goddess-gifted power.
Until finally, Sylaira’s eyes fluttered open again. She sucked in a sharp breath, only to shatter into sobs the next moment. Heraphia shushed her, but that only made Sylaira surge to her feet.
She had to get away. Couldn’t See. Couldn’t bear the darkness. Couldn’t swallow the blood.
“Get it off me!” she shrieked, diving into the lake. The cold water didn’t even deter her as she scooped silt from the bottom and scrubbed it over her arms and hands, trying to remove the ruby stain.
“Sylaira!” Heraphia burst to her side in a spray of lakewater. She grabbed her friend’s arm, trying to stop her from peeling the flesh from her bones. “There’s nothing there.”
Yet Sylaira didn’t stop scraping at her skin. Didn’t stop sobbing. “If I See it again, I will die. This power will kill me. Make it stop. Please, make it stop.”
“Look at me,” Heraphia said, cupping her face and forcing it up. “Breathe.”
A thin haze lifted from Sylaira’s mind, Heraphia’s steady gaze anchoring her to the present. She noted the flecks of a faint green among the aquamarine color of her irises. The pearlescent sheen to her damp hair.
She dragged in a breath and exhaled it in time with Heraphia’s.
Then again.
“That’s it,” Heraphia encouraged.
Sylaira swallowed, uncurling her hands and releasing the wet sand. “I’m a Seer,” she choked out. Because how else could she have explained her erratic behavior to the person who knew her best in all the worlds?
“I am too,” Heraphia admitted, tears brimming. “I’m so sorry I never told you before, it’s just so…”
“Horrific?” Sylaira finished for her, breathing ragged again as flashes of her vision returned.
Her mind tore like fabric, split open by divine will. Light poured through her veins, silver and screaming. Obsidian swallowed the cries of thousands of dying soldiers. Fire burned through ancient forests, cloying and pungent. A tempest rained down, flooding everything in its path. It sucked her into its vortex until she became it as much as it became her.
With a shudder, she yanked herself back to reality. Yet panic held her ribs in a vise. “This is what happens when I skip doses. Why was I so stupid? Why didn’t I ask my mother to remind me?”
There wasn’t enough air in all the worlds as darkness prowled forward. She clutched the sides of her head like that would stop the Goddess from violating her mind again.
“This is a curse. A fate worse than death. That is why I must take virelthorn.”
Heraphia’s trembling hand found friend’s arm. “Is that how you hid this from me?”
“Yes.” Sylaira’s lower lip trembled, and then she threw herself onto the shore, the terror of her power holding her hostage. “I can’t See, Heraphia. It’s always bleak. Death. Ruin. I’ve never Seen something good.”
Sobs wracked her frame, and her teeth chattered between them. She pulled her knees up to her chest like that could protect her. Heraphia sank beside her, both of their dresses soaked. But she wasn’t leaving her friend, not in this state.
“I’m hysterical every time I wake from one,” Sylaira continued, fighting with herself for a semblance of calm amid the storm. “Especially longer ones. That one was relatively short.”
A shudder swept through her, and she dug her nails into her flesh, trying to ground herself as her Sight threatened to rise again. She tried to force air into her lungs. Thinking about the magic would only bring it forth, and she needed a dose of the suppressing herb before another one overtook her senses.
“Help me, Heraphia. I have to take something,” she pleaded, desperation leaking into her tone. But she didn’t care if her best friend saw her this way. She was the only person who could possibly understand.
“I’ve got you. Always,” Heraphia said, hauling them both to their feet. She grasped Sylaira’s hand and tugged her along.
“One step in front of the other,” Sylaira murmured to herself. Yet her breathing remained uneven as she fought against her power. The ground blurred as more tears fell.
Sylaira’s mother raced from their cottage as she saw her daughter approach.
