“It’s hard to describe—like yourself, but not yourself. Clear as mud, right?”
I smirk. “Clear as mud.”
“The only way to learn is to experience.”
For a split second a cold thought skims down my spine—what if this changes me in ways I can’t undo?
But as quickly as it appears, it vanishes, burned away by certainty.
I take a breath. “Then let’s get to it.”
“Come stand by the chaise.”
“Why?”
“So if you fall, it can catch you.”
I do as he says and take his hand. Warmth floods my palm, immediate and startling. Fireworks explode in my stomach and his scent surrounds me, dark and intoxicating.
My hand hums and I feel Eryx’s magic, that cold snake coiling around me. I don’t fear his magic anymore.
And when power erupts from our hands, a black carpet unfurls and atop it, bright golden stars—like his room, like the galaxy unravels before us.
My stomach swoops.
Eryx clocks it instantly. His gaze washes over the stars and his jaw tightens before softening, and when he looks at me, lips parted, his eyes hold more warmth than I’ve seen before. But there’s something else in his gaze—wonder.
Like he’s seeing me for the first time.
"That's not roses," I breathe.
"No." His voice is rough. "It's not."
Roses were beautiful. But this—this is us. Our magic doesn't just make flowers anymore. It makes universes.
The implications settle over me like a weight. What else can we create together?
“Close your eyes,” he whispers.
My stomach quakes with worry, excitement, possibility.
But when he cocks his head impatiently, I ask, “When Nightmare comes into me, will I get a scar like yours?”
There’s a pause. “No. I got mine because…things were a little more dramatic than this. Would you like to back out?”
“No,” I say firmly.
I nod and close my eyes. As soon as they’re shut, I feel it—pressure pushing on my head, my body.
“Relax,” he tells me.
I exhale and my shoulders slump, releasing tension I didn’t know I was carrying.
As soon as I let go, I hear?—
You feel so different from Eryx.
Nightmare?
