He stared curiously at me.
“What’s wrong, Tilly?”
I forced a smile, hiding the panic. Hoping he wouldn’t notice, yet at the back of my mind, I couldn't quite vanquish the tendrils of doubt clinging to my heart like a tenacious vine.
“Nothing. I’m tired. If you don’t mind, I would like to rest.”
For a moment, he hesitated, his expression unreadable. Then, he nodded.
“Of course. Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s another step forward.”
If I survived the night, it would be a miracle. Because now I knew the truth. Fionn wanted me dead and I might not make it to tomorrow.
TWENTY SIX
BROKEN MIRRORS
When I opened my eyes, a radiant pool of light filled the room. Startled, I sat up and blinked in amazement as shadows receded, revealing a vision suspended in the middle of the room. It depicted a large six-pointed star surrounded by three small, brightly illuminated moons. Somehow, I knew they were watching me.
As I stared, the image shimmered and flickered. A handsome, long-haired figure, perhaps straight out of a Greek myth was positioned on one knee below the circle of stars, framed by a shimmering blue and indigo sea that reflected the ethereal veil of light.
His beautifully sculpted face was in profile, gazing sublimely at the water, while his semi-transparent body displayed galaxies, nebulae, and constellations. In each hand, he held glowing orbs that resembled star sapphires.
A warm, sensual voice began to speak, echoing through the room. I froze.
“The Varethym Orders have until the three moons circle the Elora sky to break the spell. Until then, beware of a choice made in haste.” The words repeated in languages both familiar and strange, overlapping like ripples in water.
I looked around the room, wondering if I was dreaming or hallucinating, what was happening? My heart pounded. Everything felt too vivid, reminiscent of the visions I’d experienced before. A pressure built behind my eyes, as if something unseen was watching me.
Entranced by the vision, I got out of bed and cautiously approached. The trio of moons broke away from the image and began to spin above me. I smelled an odour reminiscent of impending rain and suddenly felt an intense energy drawing me toward the spinning moons. My skin prickled, every hair rising as if the air itself had turned electric.
One of the moons faltered. Its light dimmed and then flared red.
A warning spread through the room. Heat rolled through me, sharp and sudden, like a hand closing around my spine.
Meanwhile, the cadence of the voice sped up until I could no longer distinguish it.
“Blood?” the voice echoed, dripping with a terrifying, ancient amusement.
“You will offer the pittance of your veins to the blood moon.
Bring me what is owed.”
My mark flared in response, a violent burn shooting up my arm and stealing my breath.
“I owe you nothing,” I retorted. “My life is my own.”
“Your life is borrowed. I do not ask for what is not owed.”
The trio of moons spun above me, and the air shifted to a metallic tang, while an intense energy tugged at me, pulling metoward them. The room swayed, as if gravity itself had shifted beneath my feet.
The voice quickened until the words blurred together. Then the man’s voice shifted. It was deep and mythical. My mark flared again as a pulse tore through the room, causing the moons to freeze mid-spin.
The vision flickered, the edges of the room warping. As the words faded, the vision began to shimmer and dim until only the afterimage of what looked like the Fool from a Tarot card remained. I looked at the Fool’s face, which showed a reflection of my own.
To my horror, my face began to age rapidly—my hair transforming from auburn to silver, then to grey, and finally platinum white. I gasped. Was this what the binding would cost me?
Enough. I grabbed a vase from the nightstand and hurled it at the mirror. The glass shattered, breaking into thousands of pieces and causing the vision to disappear.
