Page 42 of Stardusted
Gently, ever so gently, I brushed my hand over it.
And then it crumbled.Or at least…theshelldid. The façade of stone disintegrated, flaking away to reveal what lay underneath: a smooth, glassy slab the same shape as it’d been before, exceptsmaller. And crystalline. Like a beautiful, pale amethyst run through with veins of pink.
That same purplish light radiated from within it, pulsing like a heartbeat. Like it wasalive.
It had all happened in the span of a breath. An instant.
The reaching, the light, the collapse.
I knew without a doubt—this was what had called to me. This glowing crystal.
I could still faintly hear the chaos beyond. Metal screeching. A garbled roar. The boom of falling debris. The linoleum vibrated under me, and smoke and dust spun in spiral eddies. Electricity snapped and popped.
But none of it touched me.
The tablet sang to me.Called.I brushed my hand over it. It was warm, bordering on hot.
I gasped.
The glow surged?—
And then iterupted.
Blinding, searing light, like a miniature star igniting beneath my hand.Time and space snapped.The world fell away into white fire.For one impossible second, I sawsomethingin the light.
Writing I didn’t recognize.
Shapes. Lines. Symbols.
Stars, constellations, a swirl of planets in orbit.
So much white light.
Those were voices, too, calling out.
And then justheat.
Raw, surging fire. Everywhere. My skull split with pressure, like somebody had squeezed my temples in a vise grip. Screams rang through the air, mechanical, inhuman. Maybe mine, too. The walls shook.
I couldn’t care about anything other than the fact my hand was on fire. Mypalm. Molten heat so agonizing, it had to be melting skin off. Tissue beneath. Tears blurred my eyes. I couldn’t see. I could only clutch it to my chest, the pain ricocheting through every nerve ending. I thought I may have shrieked again, but the sound was swallowed in a rush of static and thunder?—
I had the briefest thought about how shitty this whole damn week had been so far.
And then…there was nothing.
Chapter 12
A MINOR EXPLOSION, BUT A MAJOR EXISTENTIAL CRISIS
Myheadpounded.
Hard. Like my brain was trying to carve its way free from my skull with an ice pick. It made it hard to think. Hard to do anything but fight the urge to throw up.
Gradually, though, the agony subsided enough for me to register low murmurs nearby. I managed a strangled mutter, and a second later, a cool, gloved hand gently pressed against the inside of my wrist.
Somewhere in the distance, a shrill alarm bell rang, harsh and piercing but weirdly muffled, like someone had stuffed cotton into my ears. And my mouth.
This was worse than any hangover I’d had. Even my tongue hurt when I licked my lips. I frowned at the gritty taste. Dust.
