I suck in a breath as another figure appears. Familiar curly hair and a gentle presence extinguish the flames and dread. In another swirl of shadows, she’s right before me, brown eyeslarge and pleading. “Try to stay with me,” she says in a gentle, soothing voice that I could listen to all day.
“How?” I ask.
A smile spreads across her lovely face. “Fair question. You … fight the urge to wake up or run.”
“Is this really happening?”
“It is. I’m a Dreamwalker.”
I squint at her. “How can I be sure that you’re trustworthy?”
“What does your instinct tell you?”
“My instinct is not the best,” I admit.
She’s quiet for a while. It’s an odd stillness, though it’s comforting somehow. I don’t want to leave this place, but it wavers around me, and a shiver crawls up my back as a voice prods at my senses. There’s a warm feeling against my neck—a kiss, a caress. My stomach turns.
“Where are you in Erleya?” the woman asks.
“Barr na Cahar.”
“I’m uncertain how or why we’ve found each other in this dreamscape.” Even her voice starts to fade. She’s speaking faster now as I become more aware of my body, of Gruffud waking me with immediate demands. “But there is a reason. Something bigger than both of us. All of us. So, whatever you’re enduring, I’m so very sorry, but try to hang in there. I can feel your strength. Don’t give anyone the power to deplete your strength.”
Over a year ago, I awoke with a gemstone clutched in my fist, the sensation of rocky shards in my lungs and scalding liquid in my blood. My entire existence was pain, but my pleas for release into oblivion fell upon the merciless ears of the gods I’d swornmy life to. The gods I would’ve given anything to bring back from the in-between where they’d been losing power for centuries.
At least that’s what the Purists told me.
It started with the moment Neris and I walked up the crumbly stone steps of the temple of Rhianu—the place where Nimue had told us to go, should I change my mind about the Cleanse. At that point, I’d been so tired of hiding, of being afraid to lose control of my magic and be discovered, of never truly earning my mother’s love, that I was desperate to be Ordinary.
As we entered the temple, we were welcomed by several people all clad in white, as well as the overwhelming aroma of food. They all seemed … happy. At the very least, they were immeasurably forthcoming.
We remained with them for a week, learning their ways, listening to their teachings of the prophecies, believing Magekind was tainted but there was hope in the Cleanse. The elder Purists took us under their wings—Credia in particular, with her steady silvery eyes and leathery skin from years laboring in the sun. She tutored me on what to expect from the Cleansing ritual.
I looked forward to the ritual. I imagined being able to do whatever the hells I wanted without fearing that my terraforging would lash out and ruin everything. Meanwhile, Neris enjoyed this newfound freedom and camaraderie. She liked spending countless hours out in the garden, looking at the stars, teaching the younger members to make her favorite baked goods, and ogling the young men her age.
Meanwhile, I prepared for my Cleansing ritual. Only the ones to be Cleansed were allowed at the final site, but we all traveled together.
For days, we trekked along the woodsy coast, up toward a cave nestled high in a small mountain. The other Purist members remained at camp while Nimue took me and twoothers to the purifying cave. There was nothing extraordinary about the cave, but it felt heavy with something that I couldn’t quite describe.
The three of us stood in line, each of us with our elders—Credia smiling, confident that I was ready. A lamb was sacrificed, the blood spilled from its neck used to create markings across each of our foreheads. Then the Cleanse potion was divided into golden goblets inlaid with iridescent stones. Nimue spoke a strange language over the goblets, and I remember feeling something ominous in the air, but I pinned it on being nervous.
I stood there, my fingers trembling around the goblet. But when Nimue said “drink,” I tipped my head back and poured the liquid into my mouth. Beside me, the other two initiates coughed, then one of them vomited and was promptly pulled from the cave while the other ran screaming.
At first, there was a swell of nausea; I feared that I’d also be sick, but the agony hit with such force, I was brought down not only to my knees but flat onto my face. The pain was beyond all reckoning. Once I started screaming, I didn’t stop—not even as my voice abandoned me. Not even aseveryoneabandoned me. I lay in the empty cave with my cries echoing all around me. Pain cleaved through me like a chisel carving into my bones, down to my marrow. My blood seemed to turn to scalding lava.
I pleaded with the gods to take me. Pleaded with any entity to take me.
My only thought was to slam my head into the cave floor.
But even that pain was nothing in comparison. My vision went white and then red from the blood flowing into and from my eyes.
A voice spoke to me in that strange language, hands roaming over my body while I shrieked, warmth and cold warring withthe pain—warring with the insanity threatening to tarnish my spirit forever.
“Kill me,” I tried to say, but my voice was gone. I mouthed the words over and over again while the woman spoke to me with uncanny calm.
“You will be well again. You have a greater destiny than this. Even with a fractured soul, you have a purpose.”
Then she was gone. I lay there, my body continuing to heal amid flares of pain that ripped more silent screams from my raw throat. Blood congealed around me, and I couldn’t stop shivering as death’s icy fingers taunted me but refused to take me.
