Page 17 of Morning's Light

CHAPTER 5

Aisanna walked through a boreal forest, recognizing cold-weather trees and brush. Sunlight streamed through the branches and illuminated the peeling white barks of ash and birch. Leaves caught the golden brightness and shimmered against a blinding backdrop sky of pure blue. The sun was warm on her face.

She held her breath before exhaling loudly, the frigid winter air pushed from her lungs. She drew summer inside of her in its place.

Logically, she knew this was a dream. It had the vague and ephemeral quality where nothing felt real. The colors were too vivid. The ground too soft beneath her bare feet. The air too warm and soft and perfect.

At least her mind had stilled. She focused on putting one foot in front of the other even when she didn’t know where she was going. Or why she was here.

She didn’t fear the woods. She held out her hand, and the blossoms on a nearby mountain ash bush responded instantaneously. They sprang to life in deep hues of red and rose. The vision reminded her of her mother and grandmother. The proud women of her line.

Every single bush ringing the forest floor burst into full bloom at the snap of her fingers. Although sweet mountain ash had no scent, she manipulated the flowers and lifted a blossom to her nose, drawing in the intoxicating fragrance: a combination of jasmine and honeysuckle.

It felt delicious to use her magic in this place. As natural as each breath she took, as automatic as the blood flowing through her body. She flexed her fingers and watched fern-green sparks dance along her skin.

The wind whispered through pine and spruce, creamy sunlight illuminating the autumn colors.

“You have a talent.”

A stranger spoke, his voice deep and easy. Aisanna remained calm. She recognized the cadence and rhythm of it and knew he meant no harm. The man leaned against the nearest birch tree and gazed at her through hazel eyes. With a straight nose, wide lips, and impressive cheekbones, he was attractive in the conventional sense. His looks average, ambiguous, and able to blend.

“Am I dead?” she asked him, fondling a bud until the flower grew to fit in the palm of her hand.

He shook his head and moved forward to stand beside her. His own fingertips reached out to run along a crimson petal. “No, but your body is in dire need of assistance. I’ve sent someone to your aid; it’s up to you to pull through. If you have the will.”

“She was there,” Aisanna said softly. She glanced back down at the flower and shuddered. “In the backseat of my car.”

Something about the vision made it easy to speak to the man. When she glanced over, he stood less than a foot away. The sun highlighted the tones of his hair, chestnut and mahogany. Kind eyes regarded her with a hint of paternal worry.

He spoke to her in a preternaturally powerful voice. “She’s getting stronger the closer we get to the eclipse. The veil is in tatters. There isn’t enough time to look for answers. You need to fight.”

She quirked a brow. “Do you always talk in riddles?”

He chuckled. “No, not really. I wish I could help you more. This is the best I can do without actively intervening. I’m not strong enough to step in yet, even for you. I can, however, show you the past.” He reached out until his fingertips grazed the sides of her head. “Watch. And learn.”

Stars exploded in white-hot supernovas inside her mind. She raced through time and saw the planets being born. Worlds upon worlds, different dimensions existing at the same time. Gravity reached out and took her down, the elements bending around her.

Then she focused on Earth and saw it take shape with the ability to sustain life. She saw the first humans evolving from the disorder. Those first few became many, and tribes migrated across the land masses. Then came the first with the genetic potential to wield magic. Magic, woven into the fabric of their world with tendrils stretching from the second reality imposed on top of it, separated by a thin layer of gas and ice. There was no veil then.

Those first witches and wizards were out of control, their powers ebbing and flowing like great oceans, and those without the strength to regulate their new gifts returned to the void. Magic was different then. It was light and life and crazed agony. Wars were fought over it. Children were born with identical powers of their parents, only to die within seconds of their Awakenings, unable to physically handle their magic. Leaders rose, generals among thieves, and chaos gave way to terrible times. The Dark Age.

One such leader knew something had to be done to control the flow between the two realms. To still the raging river of wild magic into something more manageable. He would not let his pride sway him from the task. He would not follow the commands of his peers, his elders telling him to accept the world as it was. He wanted a wall to separate the lands until there was no direct passage toward the ancient magicks. No way in and no way out.

He wanted his people to stop dying.

A man of flawless stealth and skill, he forged through legend and mythology to find the source of the balance. This man searched through the farthest reaches of his universe. And then he found a way.

Aisanna tried to see him and found she could only see through his eyes. He watched a thousand lights spin into a singularity. A stone. A massive stone made of the purest white and darkest black. A stone with the ability to provide a solution…at a price.

The man looked harder for an answer, unwilling to accept those consequences even if it meant success in his quest. He knew what the stone promised, just as he knew what he would lose to touch it. Though he looked harder, he saw nothing. And his wife saw only power. She turned to the stone and offered up her life, along with his. A choice she didn’t realize would be her undoing.

Then they were both lost.

Plummeting back to the present, Aisanna lost her grip on the flower and knew her time was fleeting. In this dream world of perpetual light, she felt no strain on her body. Already reality called her back. Harsh sounds interjected like a cacophony, the honking of horns and blare of a siren.

“What’s happening? What did I just see?”

The stranger’s eyes met hers, and pain spread through Aisanna when the two worlds blurred. “They got to you in time. You’re going back. Lucky for you, witches are pretty hard to kill. It will take a lot to recover from this, but I have faith. You will.”

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