Page 126 of A Simple Truth

“No, it can’t be,” I said as I grabbed another one, and then another one, turning them all a light shade of gray. “But I don’t understand,” I said, taking a step back from the small pile of gray pebbles at my feet. “Are we sure Seers can’t do that?” I ran myhand through my hair. “If you are messing with me right now, Xentar, I swear to gods, I will—”

“Believe me, I’d pick a better shade of gray if I was.” He finally found his words, his eyes darted to my dagger a second later and my eyes widened with objection.

“No,” I refused.

“Healers can’t heal themselves, Finn,” he said, as if that was supposed to convince me.

“No, I’m not stabbing you. Absolutely not.” I shook my head, holding onto my sheathed daggers.

“Finn…” Xentar stared, unyielding. “Just a little slice is all we need. And then you can heal me. No stabbing required.”

I gave Xentar a scrutinizing look. “A tiny cut, and that’s it?” My voice was still dubious of his intentions.

“A small cut, I promise,” Xentar nodded, extending his hand.

“If you decide to stab yourself so I have no choice but to use myhypotheticalpowers to heal you, I am leaving you for dead, just so we are clear,” I retorted, giving him one of my daggers, wincing as I watched the sharp blade slice his dark flesh.

“Now, heal me,” Xentar demanded as bright blood trickled down his arm. My body tensed, becoming a battlefield of prickling nerves; a million ants crawling under the surface. as anxiety twisted my stomach.

I spent half an hour, or perhaps it was longer, but no matter how deep I searched, or how hard I looked, I couldn’t find the golden thread of life-light within me.

“I can’t find it.” I threw in the towel. Seemingly, Xentar was too exhausted himself as he let out a long sigh, accepting my surrender.

“We will try again tomorrow, but it’s got to be there somewhere,” he replied as we started our short hike back to the lively streets of our village. I couldn’t find the energy to argue at the insanity of it all.

“I did not appreciate the simplicity of my life when all I had to worry about was making sure I didn't burn down the tents,” I gulped, fighting a growing migraine as my vision blurred. “What does any of this mean?” I questioned out loud. “And why? Why me?”

“Beats me. You are the Seer, so you are the one with all the possible explanations.” He clicked his tongue, just as unsure as I was.

We walked the rest of the way in silence until we had stopped at the doorstep of the small, cozy cottage where I stayed.

“What am I supposed to do with all of this now?” I asked, nervously picking on a small scab on my arm.

“We might not understand why, but I have an idea of what to do,” his eyes lingered at the Basalt Glass dagger at my hip. “Do you have any attachment to your blood?”

I didn’t bother asking what he meant by it before answering, “Not in particular.”

74

FINNLEAH

“Here, have a bit of water. You must drink enough water and bouillon,” Fatima sweetly pestered, adjusting my pillow. I sat up, attempting to drink a few sips, my pounding headache keeping me groggy even as the sun shone brightly outside.

Fatima was an older, lower tier Creator, with olive skin and brown eyes, her black hair long and her body perfect. She was gorgeous, breathtaking, loving, and so kind. Xentar had assigned her to be my scribe, to write down every single detail of my dreams, but now she stayed over longer, taking care of me as I was slowly drained of my blood.

I winced as she pulled the thick needle out of my arm, her hands moved fast, pinching the leathery bands of the small sack filled with my blood. I tried to stand up, but my eyes darkened, forcing me to sit back down. I was so incredibly weak, my body exhausted as I spent a good part of the last two days here in bed filling up those small sacks. My eyes lowered to my hands; my skin was looking paler than ever before, and even my freckles were not as dark as they had been before.

“You have some visitors today if you are up for it,” Fatima chirped, folding a few blankets on my bed.

“Who is coming?” I asked, attempting to sound casual, indifferent, though secretly hoping it would be a certain Destroyer I had not seen or heard from in days now. I took another sip of my sweet tea. I knew it was an unreasonable hope, and yet, it was the one my heart desperately held on to.

“The Ten are here,” Fatima’s perfect lips stretched wide.

“Wait, the Ten? Likethe Tenare here?” I asked, surprised, hurriedly rolling down my sleeves, hiding the large bruises covering my arms from my ruptured veins.

But before Fatima could let them in, all of the Ten busted inside the house, filling the air with excitement and thrilling energy. Their loud commotion and sudden noise felt like shattering glass against my sensitive ears, but my eyes lit up with pure enjoyment at the sight of them all, dressed in their official armored leathers, with their swords and weapons all still strapped in.

All Ten, alive and well.

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