Page 45 of Night of Death and Flowers

As the dream magic heightens, I struggle to keep my eyes open. It weaves through my mind, calming everything into an ignorant bliss. I murmur one last promise to him. “As am I a woman of mine. And I swear, I will find a way to destroy you.”

He leans closer, our noses almost touching. “Leave before The Harvest, or lose the rest of your family,” he hisses his threat before storming out, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

I struggle against the relentless drowsiness enveloping me, resisting the urge to close my eyes. But eventually, my eyelids surrender, eclipsing the dim light of the room as I succumb to the embrace of slumber.

As I fall into a light sleep, I am transported into a dream of a memory.

We’re back in my house, as children, watching as Cecilia chokes, slowly turning blue. Wide-eyed, Cee, only a toddler then, clutches her tiny hands to her throat. Something from her dinner blocks her airway, and no matter how much my mother shoves her fingers down her throat, it doesn’t dislodge—only pushing it deeper.

I’m thrown back as my mother forces me into a cabinet, the porcelain clinking above my head.

My little sister is going to die. “Do something,” I scream, although they’re trying. My powers haven’t come in yet, and my mother’s healing magic—the most common of Essentria’s magic to be inherited—doesn’t help.

My father joins in, this time holding my sister’s small body from behind, his hands linked over her stomach. With each hard abdominal thrust, I fear her bones will break under the pressure. But no breath enters through her blue-tinged lips. Even her nails have a sapphire hue as time passes on, her bloodshot, teary eyes closing.

My mother’s scream evokes my own, and I crawl against the cabinet, helpless, and ball my legs to my chest.

When I glance over at them again, my father’s hands are over the center of her chest, pushing deep into her ribcage. But it is Arabella, still too young for her powers, that hurries to Cecilia’s side first. They say trauma can activate a person’s magic at a younger age, and as Arabella stares at our dead sister, a bright glow emulates under her fingertips, moving like liquid gold, seeping into Cecilia’s body.

Magic I’ve never seen anyone use before dissipates, and Cecilia’s eyes snap open, her small body encompassed by a perfect yellow aura.

My eyes fling open. The dream plays out in my mind, where events, once hazy, I can now recall with vivid detail.

I blink twice as parts of the room come into view. Arabella sits in front of me, still in her crimson robes, but the berries in her hair have sunken. “How are you?”

I inhale deeply, still disoriented from the lingering effects of dream magic. I look around, and as early morning light seeps under the door, I realize I must have been asleep for hours. “Ari, we have to run.”

She shakes her head, placing her hands in her lap. “So Cecilia and Eliana can die along with Mother and Father?” she questions. “The Harvest sacrifices are chosen using blood magic.”

Dragging my fingers over my eyelids, then down my face, I try to figure out a way to stop this. To save both her and Drake, but the ancient magic ties every possibility into a dead end. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why?”

“If Drake and I hadn’t destroyed the statue, then none of this would have happened.”

Weaving blonde strands through her fingers, she plucks out a leaf, then sighs. “The God of Death would have chosen me, regardless.”

I close my eyes. “I don’t think so.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s done this to punish me,” I admit, my chest heaving.

His brows knit together. “Why would he want to punish you?”

“Father didn’t tell you,” I realize and lean forward. “I met him yesterday out on the shoreline. He’s a fucking monster, but we made a deal. I must leave Dahryst, or you won’t be the only one in danger,” I explain, as my thoughts turn to our two younger sisters.

“I don’t understand. What did you do to offend him so?”

I wiggle my fingers, the decay magic darkening the tips. “He found out.”

She blows out a soft sigh. “I see. Where will you go?”

“Don’t worry about that. We have little time left.”

“For what?” she asks.

Goosebumps spread over my arms, as the icy reality of what’s about to happen washes over me. “To prepare you, Ari, for The Harvest.”

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