Page 110 of A Touch of Stars and Stones
And our eyes lock.
Beautiful, deep, comforting. All the things he’s always shown me are shining right back at me. Heat, the familiar sensation, roars up my arm from our joined hands, but this time, I study his face, waiting for anything that might indicate he’s in pain. But his features don’t shift, and his eyes stay on mine, and I feel… safe. Warmth seemingly pouring from them—beseeching me—to keep trying and find what he’s hidden.
“Go on,” Kamari encourages.
So, with calmness, the water at the centre of my chest resonates, and I push forward towards Ten’s own mind. It isn’t dissimilar to what happened with Azur, but I feel in control now. Purposeful. Rather than my ability overtaking me without my consent, I feel for it, the energy, and learn to recognise it, that signature I first felt when practising for the first time.
I ease forward, envisaging the water from the well running like a stream, gentle. Soft. Towards Ten.
But before anything else happens, that stuttering collection of visions is back: red and purple, mountains, and trees.
“Do you see these?” I ask, flinching. I’d never thought to try and communicate while doing this, while being connected via touch. The urge to close my eyes and pull away is fierce, but I hold firm.
“Yes.”
The visions continue to bounce between different vistas and scenes. There is a familiarity to them, like maybe I’ve seen these before, or Ten has, and these are memories.
I wait until the image changes again, and I focus my mind to stay there, as if I can prevent that random scattering of them from changing. My eyes close in concentration, and I will everything into it, but the scene shifts, the mist clearing to reveal ice and snow. Footsteps along a rocky path. Everything is white.
“I don’t recognise this.” Ten’s voice is tight, strained.
But his fingers slide between mine, gripping my hand so I can’t pull away, as if he can sense that’s what I’m about to do because there’s tension in his voice.
My heart skips faster as the heat intensifies, burning and fusing our palms together, just like in the classroom.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No.”
“Concentrate,” Kamari instructs.
The image doesn’t change in our minds, and I’m sure we’re seeing the same thing now. After a moment to steady myself, I pull strength from our connection, and using the still well of water in my chest, I push out again, my magic now a river on an icy path seeking the information Ten is meant to be keeping from me.
But in the image, a dark figure emerges through the desolate and chilled scene, walking through the grey, his black boots sure on the treacherous ground. And as he comes even closer, recognition dawns. It’s Ten.
The grip on my hand tightens.
“What do you see?” Kamari asks.
“Myself.”
“Have you found the information, Ever?” Kamari checks, her tone anxious.
“No. I don’t know how to look.”
“Push against the vision. Look past it until you feel resistance.” My mind rebels at the words, but I force myself to comply. I squeeze his hand and focus on the white world I can see, but I look harder, and sure enough, there’s something behind the image, like it’s a living picture that I can see the edges of. As I step towards the periphery, an invisible boundary stops me from going anywhere, from seeing inside.
“She’s there,” Ten’s voice cracks, and my eyes fly open. Beads of sweat coat his brow, and his whole body is tense and rigid.
“Stop it. Let go,” I say, trying to drop the connection. But he just grips me tighter.
“No!” he growls. Instead of letting me go, he runs his free hand up my cheek and wraps it around my jaw and neck, keeping me from pulling back as he rests his forehead against mine.
It’s overwhelming.
Consuming.
Disarming.
