Page 59 of Of Withering Dreams
We only moved for a few moments before they reared up, circling above me. My neck strained to look at them before one swooped down, tugging one of my curls. “Hey!” I cried at the sharp sting. The little monster gave me a toothy grin before flying forward and landing on the outstretched hand of a young girl.
I blinked, my heart thumping.Is this a trick? Another Void demon?
The girl studied me with inquisitive, golden eyes, her aureate waves wisping in the twinkling breeze. She wore a simple gossamer dress that swept down to the moss, pooling around her feet in a puddle of white. She giggled, smiling fondly at the pixie sitting in her palm. “Much obliged, sweet one,” she praised in a dulcet tone.
It looked at her adoringly before hugging her thumb and flitting away. The other pixies followed, scattering among the luminous flora in a flurry of multicolored streaks.
Without thought, I stepped back, resting my hand on the hilt of my dagger.
“I mean you no harm, Seryn,” she said, her voice caressing me. I stiffened, head tilting to the side, eyes squinting.
“How do you know my name?”
“Let’s just say I’m a friend. For countless turns, an encounter with you is something I’ve dreamed of. I dare say—you remind me of Maya.”
22
THE DAWN DOES NOT FEAR THE NIGHT
Breath whooshed from my lungs as if I’d been punched, and I stepped forward. “What? How do you know my mother? Who are you? Aren’t you, like, eight turns old?” The questions tumbled from me in quick succession, leaving me even more breathless.
If she had any information about my mother, I needed to know.
I’d take my chances.
What was one more risk in this Ancient-forsaken dreamland?
A kind smile spread across her ethereal face. “Here, come. I’ve got a gift for you.” She reached her delicate hand toward me, a gentle smile pulling at the corners of her lips.
My boots moved of their own accord, my heart hammering. I ran my thumb over the faceted pommel of my weapon before curling my fingers around the cool metal of its hilt.
As I approached, the girl brought one hand to her other, fiddling with a black stone ring on her thumb. It seemed out of place, something midnight dark marring the pastel, otherworldly look of her.
An arm’s length away, I paused, my lips pressing into a line. Her eyes softened, and she nodded, guiding her petite form upon a sizable, mottled rust-colored stone. There was another boulder next to her, and I sunk upon it slowly, keeping my senses alert for any sudden movement.
She shifted toward me, her eyes shining in the morning sun. “A gift from the Ancients,” she spoke softly, her words chiming.
I gulped, stuttering, “I … I don’t understand.”
Her hand rested on my shoulder, feather-light. A soft, gilded glow shimmered around her, the energy of it tingling against my skin. “It is as it always was. The Fates do as they please; it is not for us to question it.”
My mouth pinched together for a moment, and I dragged in a breath, my ribs swelling with the force of it.
I was weary of the Fates. Fed up with people insisting that I shouldn’t doubt them or question what my people endured each and every day.
If all they had time to do was play games, I didn’t want any part of it.
The muscles in my limbs stiffened, and I lifted my chin. “The Ancients abandoned us long ago.”
The girl shifted even closer to me. My feet stayed rooted to the earth. Maintaining steady eye contact, a small smile pushed into the corners of her mouth. Her features softened even further, her tone placating as she whispered, “They never left you, and to believe such is to surrender.”
Bewildered, the subtle arches of my brows rose, my bottom lip and shoulders wilting. Where were the Ancients if they hadn’t forsaken us? I rolled my eyes to the sky and then huffed. Cynicism kindled within as my eyebrows fell, and I lifted my frame from the boulder, straightening my spine.
She held out the ring, gently taking my hand and placing it in the palm. Its intricate design glinted—delicate, interlacing branches carved into tourmaline.
My skin hummed where it touched, the feel of it substantial. I breathed in, rubbing the sleek, wide edge of it with the tip of my index finger. A slow, deep throb stroked under my scar in wave-like laps. The sides of my mouth dipped as insistent shadows of recognition prodded at the corners of my mind.
“You must not, under any circumstances, give it to another. It is yours and yours alone. Do you understand?” Her face settled into a grave urgency, hinting at mysteries well beyond her turns.
