Page 69 of What Blooms from Death

He’d pulled me from the water, chased away the things holding me down.

And he didn’t let go, now, despite all the strange, terrifying energy building above us, below us, between us. Despite the way his magic cracked jagged fissures through his skin, sending embers of pale golden energy flying outward.

He didn’t flinch, either, when bits of my magic slipped from my veins and collided with his, chasing after it like it was starving, desperate for a touch of light to balance its dark.

More magic was rising from both of us. The air was so thick with it I could hardly breathe. Questions pounded like the beating wings of birds, vibrating in the thin space separating our bodies.

What happens if we let ourselves give in?

What do we do with the mess our tangled magic becomes?

He moved to answer these questions first, the hand not holding mine reaching to trace the shadows peeking out from underneath the coat—his coat—that I wore. His fingers trailed over the swell of my chest, following the lines my shadows painted up across the hollow of my throat. Chasing away the cold of my magic, letting more of his own twist in, leaving a warm buzzing in the places where our powers wrapped around one another.

I leaned closer.

We were breathing the same air, sensing the same possibilities, tasting the same answers just on the tips of our tongues.

My lips never met his. Only his fingertips dragged over the trembling shape of my mouth. But it felt deeper than any kiss I’d ever experienced, the way his power fully dove into me, the warm tingle of his magic spreading out from underneath his touch, parting my lips, pouring down my throat.

That heat continued to circulate, sweeping down over my body—and then beyond it. The ground trembled, tickling my bare feet. The darkness dispelled around us, as if someone had pulled aside a curtain and allowed pure, full moonlight to filter into the scene. Grass shot up in the soft glow—lush, thick, all the way up to my ankles. The ground surrounding the girl’s lifeless body transformed as well, and soon she was cradled by soft greenery and an assortment of colorful flowers rather than black mud.

The section of lake closest to us turned a dazzling shade of translucent turquoise, lapping gently against the increasingly flowery shoreline.

I forced my gaze away from Aleksander, taking my hand from his and walking in a slow circle so I could fully take in the sight surrounding us.

My breaths grew shallow. My hands shook. The world tilted and spun, tilted and spun—a kaleidoscope of colors, a gentle symphony of sounds, a distant mirage of impossible images slowly coming into focus.

And the girl…

She opened her eyes. Sat up shakily. Pulled her braid over her shoulder—her bright, auburn braid—and fiddled anxiously with it.

Aleksander and I stared together, neither of us speaking. Neither of us quite believing—though there was no denying what we both saw. The girl was full of color and breath, as bright as the world around her. A world that was brilliant and breathing, teeming with new energy.

Alive.

This little section of the realm of the dead wasalive.

And so was the girl.

Chapter Seventeen

Nova

As alive asshe might have been, the girl still could not seem to speak. Nor could she walk—or even stand for very long. Her legs kept wobbling and buckling, threatening to fold up under her, again bringing to mind a baby deer.

“She’s in shock, I think,” Aleksander muttered. For a moment, he looked as though he was considering leaving her to her fate. A hunter allowing nature to take its course.

Then he sighed and lifted her shivering body into his arms, ribbons of light flowing from his fingertips and wrapping around her as he did. Soothing her. He didn’t protest, either, when she huddled closer to him and buried her face in the folds of his shirt.

It was such a gentle, unexpected moment from him that I couldn’t help but stare.

But despite his magic and other efforts, the girl still looked entirely too pale, too weak—mere moments away from returning to a ghostly shade.

“The blanket you had earlier,” Aleksander said, pointing me in the direction of my piled belongings.

I quickly gathered it, along with my clean clothing. I yanked on my trousers and boots, but left Aleksander’s coat on so I could donate my shirt to the girl, along with the blanket, wrapping both of these things tightly around her tiny, emaciated frame. I took care not to touch her too long, afraid of more visions popping into my head; I was still reeling from the last one. From that woman I’d seen, and the courtyard they’d been laughing and dancing in…

I finished securing the girl and hurriedly stepped away from her and Aleksander, focusing instead on our surroundings.

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