“Will she be okay?” Cassandra asked, gripping her mother’s hand, frightening echoes of both visions pounding through her ears.
“I believe so, yes. She will need to rest for a few days.” Borea slowly shook her head. “I’ve… I’ve never seen anything like that before. Where did you go?”
“I don’t know,” Cassandra answered honestly. “At first, it just felt like a normal memory viewing, but…it twisted somehow. Turned into a nightmare.”
She told Borea and Tristan about the visions she’d seen, that terrible, boundless voice her mother had spoken in, her cryptic words.
Find her.
“What do you think they mean?” Cassandra asked.
Borea tilted her head with a sympathetic frown. “Likely nothing, my dear. You’re exhausted. You’ve been working too hard, researching the Fallen Goddess, restoring obliviates and filtering their memories. And the High Gods know what else you’ve been up to with this one.” She cocked a thumb at Tristan, who raised his palms, proclaiming his innocence. “It’s probably best if we pause the restorations for a bit. Besides, I fear the Empire soldiers are growing suspicious about the lack of freshly obliviated supplicants.”
Cassandra rose to protest, and a wave of dizziness nearly toppled her off her feet.
Tristan was there in an instant, scooping her into his arms. “Okay, Savior Sister,” he said with a crooked grin. She shot him a slitted glare. “That’s quite enough excitement for one night.”
Borea nodded, picking up Cassandra’s mother and motioning for the young woman from the Temple. “We’d better get back.”
Tristan trudged towards the stairs. “And I’m taking you home,” he whispered into her ear.
Cradled in Tristan’s strong arms, Cassandra tried to answer as fatigue more draining than she’d ever known shuttered her lids and stilled her tongue.
I’m already there.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
The desert was playing tricks on Xenia’s dehydrated mind.
She limped along behind Cael, her skin burnt and itchy from two days bared beneath the scorching sun. Though the healing salve might have offered some relief, they’d agreed to conserve it.
There were far worse terrors stalking through this apocalyptic wasteland.
The endless red dunes were suspiciously quiet during the day. But at night, a symphony of clattering claws, rumbling growls, and other-worldly wails sang of death in a hundred different ways. The monsters who slumbered in the daylight were lured by the moon’s cool kiss, emerging to fight and fill their bellies. Xenia hadn’t yet seen any of the nocturnal creatures, only heard their savage howls. She couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.
The hot winds whipping the red sands into a dusty frenzy burned differently at night. A burn so cold it froze the sweat on Xenia’s skin. She wasn’t too proud—or prude—to shelter within Cael’s sole remaining wing for warmth as he serenaded her to sleep each night.
As the sun climbed to its midday peak, the taunting winds worsened. Shimmering at the edges of the world, they crafted visions of pools and swaying trees. Mirages that refused to grow closer, stubbornly fading with Xenia’s every crunching step.
She and Caeldidseem to be nearing the foothills of the Icthian mountains. Each day, the shadowy summits crept higher into the sapphire sky.
The pair had barely spoken these past two days since their shared talent show. But despite Cael’s silence, Xenia was immensely grateful for his presence. When they’d drained their canteen yesterday, he once again used Cass’s dagger to stab into a spiky plant and fill the vessel with water.
Though the life-giving plants were growing sparse. She hadn’t spied a single one today, so they’d been conserving what little water they had left. They took the barest sips from the canteen and only when absolutely necessary—when the beating sun and burning winds threatened to extinguish them.
Xenia closed her eyes, sick to death of seeing salvation shimmer away into nothingness on the horizon. She followed the sounds of Cael’s uneven footfalls as he stalked through the sand ahead of her.
When she re-opened her eyes, she was shocked to find the illusion hadn’t disappeared this time. If anything, it appeared closer—an indigo slash surrounded by puffs of blessed greenery.
Cael paused, his sole wing kicking up like a dog’s ear. Waiting and listening. Assessing the danger.
Xenia stopped behind him, grateful for a moment’s rest. She studied the thick muscles of his back.
During their long daily treks, he’d strip off his shirt and pants and drape the garments around his neck. Only his unlaced boots and skin-tight black underwear remained. Xenia was still wearing a matching pair of the latter.
The tight shorts stopped at mid-thigh and leftverylittle to the imagination—from any angle. Xenia stole glimpses of the impressive bulge between his legs every time they stopped for a rest or a drink.
Sometimes she felt as if it were the only thing keeping her sane, the sight of him glistening in the sun like the painstakingly carved statue of some prehistoric god.
