by Brindi Quinn
“Do we have an agreement?” he asked, drawing a seductive finger across his collarbone. “It’ll be worth it.”
It did the trick. “Yes,” I said. I wanted this.
“First, though, I’ll be needing a little of you. It takes a powerful spell to rip out a heart.”
“Okay.”
He reached for my hand, but I pushed his arm down, bent forward, and kissed his right horn instead.
He let out a surprised gasp, so I pulled away.
“What?” I asked. “The spirit is more direct that way, isn’t it?”
His Adam’s apple danced in a large gulp and then, “Yes. I suppose it is. Maybe you do remember, after all.”
“Not really.” But my body did.
Letting memory’s instincts take over, I closed my eyes and kissed him a second time. My lips were icy for a moment, and then I pulled away again.
“Was that enough?”
“Yes, thank you, my angel.” He brought his hand to my face and drew the same seductive finger across my top lip. “Like ice. Allow me to warm them for you.”
He didn’t wait for me to answer. With full pupils, he leaned forward, brought himself over me, and warmed my lips with his. The kiss didn’t stop with warm. It was searing. He was deliberate and in control, and I let him lead, all the while shivering and sort of afraid of him. But he was right, it was worth it.
He brushed the loose shirt from my shoulder and kissed the place it had been. My shivering intensified because I was cold and nervous, but he was warmer than normal, and he protected me from the chill air with himself.
That’s when it came back to me.
You were my-!
Remembering our forgotten past, I grabbed the back of his bicep, rolled on top of him, and kissed his neck in an outburst of passion. He placed his hands around my back, beneath my shirt, and pulled me closer.
“You remember, Angel?” he asked, panting, eyes black.
I nodded, hungry for more of him.
With that, he threw me down, and then he was over me once more, kissing me – this time my ear. I let out a small cry, so he stopped and stared down in earnest, eyes fading back into red.
“Don’t betray me again, Angel,” he whispered, voice cracking. “It was too hard last time.”
It was a mistake last time.
“I won’t,” I vowed. “This time, I’ll keep your heart for myself . . . my dragon.”
At the promise, his eyes reverted to black.
“NOOOO!” I woke up, sweating. “Get off, Ardette!”
But there was no one on me. Nor was there anyone around at all. I was alone in the middle of the thickest mist I’d ever seen.
Chapter 6: The Lost
“What?! Where am I?!”
I frantically looked around, but there was no one there. Only whiteness.
“Nyte?! Ardette?! Grotts?! Kantú?! Darch?! Scardo?! Rend?! Trib?!”
There was no answer. Why would there be? I was clearly alone. That could only mean one thing:
This was a dream. It had to be.
But I’d just woken up from that . . . that nightmare, right? So that meant that this was real? No way . . . . No way!
Yes, way.
It felt too real. So . . . I’d been sleepwalking? Or what?
The mist surrounding me was so white that I couldn’t see anything. It was stronger than the Feirgh’s mist at Yh’tak. It was thicker than any of the mist we’d encountered so far in Nor. It was a mantle of dizzy disorientation. With nothing for me to lock sight on, I quickly grew nauseous.
I spun around. It didn’t help the nausea. I’d been hoping to push the mist far enough from me to hear or see or capture something. But again, there was nothing for me to catch. How deep out into oblivion was I? If I had been sleepwalking, I couldn’t be too far from camp . . . right? Hopefully.
Oh, Creator!
This wasn’t good. Panic was already starting to set in. I was completely defenseless. If I sang, Lusafael would hear me. But singing was my only defense against the Feirgh, so what would I do if one of them found me!? And with mist this thick, there had to be one near . . . right? RIGHT?!
Oh, Creator! Creator, please!
I was lost in the whiteness. If I moved, I’d only encounter more of it. In addition to a feeling of utter dread and despair, the fog carried that same sickly sweet smell I’d experienced in Yh’tak. It was gross, so I pushed it from my face, but it was aggressive and filled my nostrils on its own.
What’s going on?! Please just reunite me with the others!
I was scared and frustrated and growing worse with each passing moment.
Please, Creator! Lead me from here! Rescue me! I’m afraid!
I continued to call out cries of dread and desperation, but the whiteness didn’t shift. In my mind, it closed in on me, filling my ears and nose and eyes – filling me up entirely so that I was part of it – so that the ‘me’ part of me was disappearing altogether.
HELP ME!
And then, mid plea, I realized. It’d been a long time since I’d prayed sincerely.
“I’m . . . what am I doing?” I’d been carrying on like a frantic lunatic. “I’m an idiot.”
Shaking, I crouched. I didn’t know what else to do.
The mist erased the hole left behind by my body. It swallowed the air. It would swallow me too, if given the chance. I closed my eyes . . . and I kneeled.
I was the Creator’s vessel. I’d been chosen to save the world.
Save? Can it really be saved? Creator, is this world even meant to be separate?
To divide the world required a sacrifice. Magic that powerful required life’s exchange – all of the corras in a person’s body.
Is there another way? Or is Nyte supposed to be sacrificed? Because I don’t want to give him up! I don’t want to lose him! Life’s precious, right? So why? And why him? Why does it have to be him!? Why must the songstress and emulator love each other? What but pain can come from that? Is it really to produce the strongest power? Is the strongest power worth something like that?!
It was my responsibility. Somehow, I’d been charged with this responsibility.
I’ll do Your will, Creator. Of course, I will, but . . . sacrifice in the name of dividing the world doesn’t seem loving. It doesn’t seem like You. How can I be sure? How can I be certain that this is right?
The truth was, I couldn’t be certain, but even though I was filled with uncertainty, I couldn’t just run from it either. I had to continue along this path. The path I’d been whisked into – it was mine now. I had no choice but to own it, and when it came down to it, I’d just have to trust in the Creator. Trust that I’d know what was right.
I continued to kneel in white silence for a long time. I was sad, but I wasn’t despairing any longer. I don’t know if I was near a Feirgh at that time, but if I was, it seemed to be moving away from me.
Unfortunately, though my desolation lifted, the fog didn’t. I was still lost. Still alone. Still afraid. Well, not entirely alone. The Creator had surely heard my cries. He was there, but without tangibility to grasp on to, I couldn’t help feeling alone.
An hour passed. Maybe two. I still hadn’t moved from that spot. My knees were rooted to the hard ground. They ached from holding my weight, but still I was frozen. Should I get up and start walking? Or would that only take me farther from camp? I could set off in the directly opposite direction of what I’d been facing when I’d awoken, but had I even sleepwalked in a straight line? Probably not. And who was to say I could even pin-point exactly which direction I’d started out in? After all, I’d initially spun around and gotten all disoriented.
Boy, had that been a dumb move.
Thus, I stayed. Hearing nothing. Seeing nothing. I was just lost. Completely and utterly. I missed Nyte. I was mad at Ardette, but I missed him too. I was still upset over what had happened at the geyser, and I was even mad at the things the dream version of him had done. Not fair, I know, but with nothing else to
do, I let myself be angry with him for seducing me. Still, I wanted to be near him. I wanted to push away his pesterings.
Nyte and Ardette. Grotts, Kantú, Scardo, Rend, Darch . . . and now Trib. There were so many good people around me. What a cast the Creator had given. I was thankful and grateful and I loved them all. But I was still lost, and thinking about them only made me sadder.
From my knees, I finally fell back. They hurt. I curled up and hugged them to my chest. My hair was long, and it draped my body like a protective cloak. I was without one of my own at the moment, so it was a welcome substitute. Silver. Soft. I felt protected.
I almost started to hum to myself – an instinctive comforting mechanism – but had to swallow, for fear of letting the waves escape me. Now was not a good time to be found by a vengeful angel.
Poor Illuma.
Yes, I still pitied her. I still loved her too. I could even picture myself forgiving her . . . but then again, she wasn’t really my sister anymore, was she? What good could come from forgiving an angel-controlled, mist-filled shell? A true puppet.
I closed my eyes. More like, I let my closing lids have their way. The darkness was a welcome change from the whiteness. There, in that absence of sight, was where I first heard the calling.
“Aura?”
But it wasn’t a real voice. I hadn’t heard it with my ears. Maybe it existed only in my mind.
“Aura. There you are.”
I opened my eyes, and the calling stopped.
“Hello?”
But I got no response. Shutting my eyes once more, I returned to darkness.
“Aura. Hold still. If you keep disappearing like that, I won’t be able to find you.”
Whoever it was, they could only see me when I had my eyes closed? What sort of creature was that? It was freaky – so freaky, in fact, that I bolted back to the whiteness. In the whiteness, there was only silence.
“Okaaaaay?”
So, I was going crazy now? Hearing a voice that was somehow real and not real all at the same time? A voice that only came to me when my eyes were closed?
But despite how insane it sounded, it was the first thing that had happened since my awakening. I had nothing else, really. Wincing, I returned to darkness.
“Aurie pie, you really need to stop doing that. I’m trying to help you.”
“Mother?!”
No one else had ever called me ‘Aurie Pie’. Except for Illuma, that is. My stomach dropped. What would I do if this was some trick of Lusafael? But that voice . . . it wasn’t my sister’s. It was definitely –
“Mother?” I asked again. “Mother, is that you?”
“Yes, Aura. I’m here.” Her voice was wispy and melodic.
And then something even stranger happened. Coming into view before me, behind the darkness of my lids, there was a willowy woman with raven beauty and loose, flowing, hair. Somehow, I was able to see her approaching, though my eyes could only decipher darkness. And she looked solid! Not a vague, fuzzy image. Not a ghostly imprint. Really solid!
“Mother! What are you doing here?! Wait. You can’t be here. Unless you’re . . . !”
“No, no,” she laughed. “I’m not dead, Aura.”
“Then that means . . . you aren’t real, are you, Mother?”
I opened my eyes just to be sure, but there was nothing but mist. I hurried to close them again.
“No, I’m not entirely real. But I’ve come to help you. Walk with me.”
She reached for my hand, which I could now also somehow see in the darkness, and pulled me to my feet. It was like we were back on the beach on the night of the Rite. Her by my side, protecting me. Guiding me. She pulled me along with her for several paces, determined but gentle. I stared at her with closed eyes. How beautiful she was. How strong. How apparent. I was amazed.
“What are you?” I whispered.
“There isn’t a word for me. A manifestation, perhaps. But you have no reason to fear me, Aura. I’m only here to help.”
“A manifestation? Fueled by what? Mist?”
She shook her head.
“Emotion? Power? What? There’s got to be something composing you.”
Again, she shook her head, smiling so beautifully and mysteriously. “I’m sorry, darling, but I don’t have an answer for you. There are many things that you don’t have the ability to wrap your head around. I am one of them.”
“But-”
“Think of me like you’d think of eternity.”
“Eternity?”
“Eternity exists, correct? But can you fully understand the concept?”
No, that was one of the many things I couldn’t comprehend. “No, I guess I can’t.”
“I am like that.”
“But who sent you? How did you find me?”
“It’s pointless to ask those kinds of questions, Aurie. You won’t feel any better. It won’t bring about any type of understanding. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”
“You aren’t just talking about now, are you, Mother?”
“Correct. I’m talking about the things that will be.”
I stared at her face, feeling home, but I wasn’t content. I never did so well with cryptic things.
“What am I to do?” I persisted. “Can you at least tell me that much? Am I supposed to sacrifice Nyte? Because I really can’t, Mother. I know it’s selfish, but I can’t-”
“Aura, Aura, that isn’t something for me to tell you. But I think you already know that, don’t you?”
I did. But I couldn’t’ stop. “You don’t understand! It’s Nyte. To me, he’s just-”
“You love him. I know. And he loves you too, doesn’t he?”
“He’s my most important person.”
My mother stopped. She stopped abruptly and turned to me. Placing both hands on my shoulders, she gave them a squeeze. Her eyes were happy, but her lips, full and lovely, were sad.
“Trust the Creator, Aura. Trust Him. That’s the only way you’ll make it through this. If left in your own hands, you’ll only ruin yourself . . . and everyone else.”
“Ruin myself?”
She brought a hand to my cheek. “You were right. Life is precious. But it’s not yours. It belongs to the One who gave it to you.”
I knew that. Of course I did, but it didn’t make things any easier. I still didn’t want to sacrifice it that easily. We stood that way a moment, in silent reflection, until, hearing something I couldn’t, my mother looked up, off to her left, and said,
“We’re almost there.”
“Almost-”
But she looped her arm in mine and gave me a great tug. And now we were running through the blackness.
“Where are we going?!”
She ignored the question. Her face was determined, her raven hair flying behind her like a cape of shadow. Faster and faster we ran. I struggled to keep up.
“Mother?!”
Faster still. She pulled at my arm, leading me on. I wanted to open my lids, for fear of running into something on the other side of them, but they were stuck. I was stuck in the darkness. But though I was stuck, I wasn’t afraid. Just confused.
I’d come to realize by now that questions were pointless, yet I continued to foolishly ask.
“Mother? Where are you leading me?”
Of course she ignored that one too and pulled me onward. For several more minutes we sprinted, and I was panting, but I kept up with her for the most part. Then, all at once, she halted, and I nearly flew from her grasp.
“There,” she said. “We’re here.”
“Here?” I looked around and saw only darkness. “Where’s here?”
“The place you need to be.”
I had so many more questions to ask, but she didn’t wait for me to voice any of them. Shooting me another sad smile, she dropped my elbow and brought her arms around me in a mother’s embrace.
“I love you, my daughter,” she said in a willowy whisper.
I was so confuse
d and out of breath and kind of a mess, but the hug felt too much like home. A hug of comfort. I succumbed to it and hugged her back. “I love you too, Mother.”
But just like that, she was gone. She didn’t dissipate or fragment away or fade. She was just gone, and I was hugging no one in the darkness behind my lids. But that wasn’t true. I had to be hugging someone. I could feel them, even if I couldn’t see them. Maybe on the other side? Maybe this person existed in the whiteness?
I opened my eyes, which were no longer stuck, and I was hugging Kantú.
“Mother?” she chittered. “You silly! The mist must’ve muddled you up!”
“Huh?” I let my eyes clear. There were still a few small fragments of darkness in them even though they were now fully open. I was back on the edge of the geyser’s dome, getting hit with cold off-spray.
“Kan . . . tú?”
The squirrel girl let out another chitter, this one longer and more obnoxious than the last.
“Aura, I’m so glad to see you!” She was squeezing my neck too hard. “You have NO idea what you just put us through! Ardette was ready to slit his wrists! And don’t even get me started on Nyte-”
“Kantú? You’re . . . choking . . . me!”
“Oopsie! Sorry!” She loosened her hold but didn’t let go.
“Aura?” said a voice softly. I hadn’t noticed, but there was someone else with a hand on me – a gripping hand with a firm hold on a bunching of my shirt. I cranked my neck around.
“Darch?”
The Magir was staring at me with blatant, too-intense concern and chewing his bottom lip.
“Darch?” I said again, growing concerned for his concerned state. “Are you all ri-”
But he fell forward and wrapped his arms around Kantú and me in a large bear hug.
“How?” he whispered. “How did you find your way back?”
“Ehh . . .” What to say? Well, if anyone was going to understand, it’d be Darch, wouldn’t it? “My mother.”
“Your mother?” Kantú pushed her way out of the hug. “Aura, what are you talking about? Your mother can’t be out here. Darch, I think she needs to lie down.” She felt my forehead with the back of her hand.
