Page 68 of Blinding Light

A sudden chill went through him. Cyprian’s eyes rolled back and his heart started beating in his chest.

Visions flashed back into his mind. This time when he saw the dark room, he caught sight of chains and shackles. Of cloudy water served in a dog bowl. And he heard…he heard…

Danger.

“What the—” Cyprian yanked back his hand.

But Theo had already jumped up, a wild look on his face. “You’re one of them!”

Cyprian watched him go thoughts going a mile a minute.

“Let me guess.” Archer came to stand next to him. “This stays between us?”

Cyprian’s gaze lingered on Theo while he sipped from his coffee. “Have you ever had this feeling that you…” His voice trailed off.

“That I what?”

“It’s just weird.” He turned back to face Archer. “When Theo touched me, I got this strange vision.” The blond guy disappeared out of view. “Perhaps he was afraid?”

“Well…” Archer tossed his empty cup in the bin. “The guy has just participated—and survived—anAureate. I can imagine he’s afraid. Look how people are treating him. He’s a hero, but still…we all saw what happened to him. I’m surprised he can walk straight. It will take a few days for things to go back to normal.”

Cyprian sighed. “I guess you’re right. Shall we go?”

They strolled over campus, making their way to class. Ignoring the curious stares around them, Cyprian focused on Archer, who was talking his ears off about some art exposition he wanted to visit.

But there was more. Cyprianfeltmore. As if something was shifting inside of him, he could pick up on subtleties. He felt Archer’s restlessness. Heard the conversations that took place around them.

Too many words.

He made me do it.

His eyes were burning more frequently, creating visions.

Back in Moargan’s guest room, Cyprian had set up his charcoal corner—his canvas and utensils. He had started drawing those hallucinations in an attempt for them to make sense. So far, it wasn’t more than a collection of lines without a clear shape or meaning. But it was a start.

“What are you making?” Archer asked. They were sittingoutside the classroom in the grass, their seats surrounded by their artistic equipment.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Cyprian admitted. He looked away from his own charcoal. “You?”

“The park.” Archer gave him a bashful smile. “You’re not the only one who loves the colours. Don’t look yet, it isn’t finished.” He gave his work a few final streaks of paint. His face flushed. “Okay, now you can.”

Archer had drawn the fountain, apple trees, and grass.

“I love those colours,” Cyprian mumbled. “You always get the best combinations. It’s like they’re sparkling with light.”

“Sparkling?” Archer chuckled. “I’m not sure of that, but if that means you like it, I’ll take it.”

“I love it. I’d totally put that in my living room if I had one.”

Archer barked out a laugh.

“Or if I have the money.”

“I’d give you the painting!”

“No way. I’d pay an artist because it’s what they deserve.”

“You’re too sweet.” Archer got up from his stool and came to stand behind Cyprian’s drawing. He let out a low whistle. “Good light. Did you draw yesterday’sAureate?”

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