Page 33 of Desolation
The sun sets without my acknowledgement. Day turns to night and the bite of the cool night air has me shivering but I just sit there, holding her hand, head hanging low in a trance.
Someone shakes me out of my daze.
“Lana,” Zedd says, squatting down next to me, his hand on my shoulder, “We found spare rooms at a local inn. They said they’ll let us stay there for free for a few days. We can’t stay here. We’ve packed a bag for you already.”
I look up at him, half-aware of the words he’s said in the haze of my mind. In barely more than a whisper, I say, “But Beth…”
He closes his eyes tightly, the lines between his brows furrowing, as his grip tightens on my shoulder. When he looks at me again, his eyes are glowing with unshed tears. “We called 911. Someone will be here to pick her body up and keep her safe until we’re ready. We can decide if we want to do a burial or a cremation later.” When I don’t respond, he shakes me lightly again. “Lana, we need to go. We need to get your back looked at still.”
Numbness settled over my body long ago from not moving an inch as I stayed by her side.
Nodding to reassure him, I pull Beth’s hand to my lips and give her a final kiss.
I love you to infinity and beyond. I don’t think you can beat that.
While I was with her, someone dropped another sheet next to us. I grab it and carefully lay it over her, covering her head down to wood protruding.
Struggling to my feet on numb, shaky legs, I almost topple over like a newborn giraffe. Strong arms scoop me up, the scent of cedarwood penetrates my senses and my head rests against Hale’s warm chest.
My mind begs for the darkness of sleep, for blissful ignorance. For hope that I will wake up and realize this was all just a terrible nightmare.
As my consciousness begins fading, his chest rumbles against me as he speaks. “Grab her bag. She’s lost some blood. I’ll carry her to the inn. Let’s go.”
Darkness consumes me.
As I come to, I wake in a beautiful field of sunflowers. Only, they’re not yellow. They’re teal, the same color as a butterfly I saw in my childhood. It was the most mesmerizing creature I had ever seen and I had decided on the spot that it was my favorite color.
A soft breeze rustled my hair as I run my gaze over the land before me. A pale pink body of water sits in the distance. Fish that I’ve never seen before, breach the water and leap into the air, twisting and falling gracefully. Exotic, unfamiliar birds chirp and sing in the air, dancing and flying over their water-bound brethren. Nearby, on a field of grass, deer, the color of Ash’s emerald eyes, graze.
Where am I?
An overwhelming sense of tranquility and belonging fills me.
I walk through the field, running my hands through the soft petals that I pass in my path towards the ocean that calls me. I delight in the sensation of the soft grass beneath my bare feet, not stopping until one foot is on the sand of the beach.
How is this possible? I want to pause and think through these doubts, but the waves call to me. This feels like home. Why would I question home?
The warm, pink water tickles my toes and makes me giggle. But water isn’t pink and it shouldn’t be cold. And when did I start walking again?
“So,” an ethereal voice says, her voice carrying over the wind, tugging on my soul. I whirl towards the sound, entranced by the beauty and the peace it evokes. The water sloshes against my feet, kissing my bare calves. “It is your time, again.”
A woman, with the imprint of green leaves and vines running through her mocha skin, approaches me. With graceful steps, she walks across the field I had just come from, but she had not been there a moment ago—of that, I am sure. Her hair is made up of cherry blossom stems that appear as soft as silk. A glow radiates from her skin and her eyes, a prism of colors, call to me.
I see maternal love in her concern.
Why?
“Again?” I asked, hesitant to speak, evident in my breathless question. She has a gentle power exuding from every pore, that alights in me a desire to run to her, to embrace her tightly, as if she is a family member I lost long ago.
“Yes, my child,” she says in that angelic voice. “You and your consort’s rebirth. It is time for you to reclaim your title, your powers and restore balance to your realm.”
Wait … what?I gape at her, unsure if she’s speaking the same language as me. Powers? My realm?Wait … rebirth?
“Who are you?” I timidly ask, feeling the pulse of her power deep in my bones.
Her expression softens to one of pure love and, surprisingly, regret.What does she have to regret?
“You may not like the answer to that. I felt your hatred for me before you joined me in your dream world.”
