Page 49 of Of Serpents and Ruins
Not that that helped me feel any calmer or more connected to anything except missing him. A couple times Auntie Runa caught me sketching him, and I blushed like I was a teenager again.
After her recovery, she spent most of her time in the secret room with the crest with a blue and silver eye. She called it her sanctum. None of us were allowed inside.
Whenever I passed the door of her sanctum, an electric hum of interest pulsed within me. Questions surged.
What was this vision she had seen? Could the knowledge really be so dangerous?
Each time I asked that, my chest tightened. The memory of the dream about the grotto and the horror it had brought swept over me as strong as the earthquakes that shuddered through the land each day.
Every night, without fail, I dreamed of Brandt. Most of the memories that returned were small and comfortable. Little moments. His hand cupping my cheek. Me biting his lower lip and teasing him about being so ferocious. Him throwing me over his shoulder and then chucking me into the river with the manatees and triceratopses. His mouth whispering sweet words in my ear and then threatening if I put my icy feet between his thighs ever again.
I woke up each morning missing him more, and that longing only grew, pulsing and building like an infected wound.
In the afternoons, I rode Buttercup out in the meadow, putting her through her paces. She honked and lowed with delight, her great footsteps making the earth shake. Sometimes,the other triceratops joined us. Three times, Kine joined me, demonstrating different battle tactics, including the Coiling Serpent Duo, a special technique in which a water serpent shifter paired with their steed for an effective launching attack maneuver.
My eyes widened when he launched himself off the back of the triceratops, shifting into a water serpent in midair. That! The Coiling Serpent Duo was what I had been trying to do when I had been facing off against the tyrannosaur.
"You'll get the hang of all this again," Kine promised. He flashed me that bright smile of his. "If you want her to stop abruptly and snap her head down so you can launch yourself, you shout ‘komul.’"
"Komul," I repeated.
He beamed at me. "Exactly."
No matter what, he always tried to keep that cheery persona, but all of this had to weigh on him as well even though he did not show it.
Elias, on the other hand, clearly struggled. He grew quieter and more withdrawn, his shoulders hunching down as if a great weight pressed upon him. More than once, I found him in front of Auntie Runa's private chamber staring at the eye crest, his mouth pinched and his brow furrowed.
That was where he was on the sixth night. Just standing there, staring.
I massaged my aching shoulder, my whole body pulsing with the pain and discomfort of intense, prolonged shifting and the vague memories of old routines. "Is everything all right, Elias?" I asked.
He turned sharply, his finely plucked brows lifting. A small smile tugged at his mouth. "It is what it is."
"What do you mean?" I drew closer. My footsteps were muffled by the thick woven rug. Tension filled the air.
His gaze dropped as he turned his head. "Auntie Runa has forbidden us from seeing the vision. She's drawn it and sketched it many times, and there have been others. I heard…I heard her speak of part of it. I saw glimpses. But…"
I folded my arms tight over my chest. A chill slithered up my spine. "You saw part of it?"
He nodded. The muscles in his neck corded. "Not all of it but enough. And…I'm afraid."
"We all are," I admitted.
"No!" He turned on me, his dark-blue eyes blazing. He dragged his hand through his silky, dark-red hair and scoffed. His usually smooth voice became ragged. "No, I am afraid for you. It wasn't enough that you died once. At this rate, you'll die again, and I can't bear it. It's wrong, and—" His hands balled into fists. He lowered his voice. "There is so much I want to tell you, Stella, but I don't want to make it worse."
"Auntie Runa reminded me that part of the burden of being a seer is that we have to use wisdom about what to share and what not to share." The words felt stupid coming out of my mouth, but they were true. I lifted my chin, steeling myself for his response.
Elias only nodded, his hands still clenched at his sides as if in great turmoil. "Once words are spoken, they can never be taken back. The same is true of knowledge. I know this." He bowed his head.
I bit the inside of my lip. My own curiosity warred within me as my gaze darted once more to the door. "Is this what's had you so quiet these past few days?"
In addition to the end of our world, of course.
"Mostly," he admitted. "Kine and I disagree on what should be said and when. We both care for you. We both want you to—" He paused, his gaze soft and vulnerable as he looked at me with those big dark eyes. "Forgive me for being so forward, but have you had any memories of me return at all?"
The abrupt change in tone startled me. My mouth fell open. "I…"
A pang of something I couldn't place struck me. Regret? Sadness?
