Page 80 of A Storm of Fire and Ash
“Where did you bury my mother?” My question caught him off guard.
“In the wildflowers by the cliff. You know, the place where I came to get the prince—”
I cut him off quickly; the memory pained me. “I know where it is.” I fiddled with my fingers and then added, “Thank you. For everything. For what you did that night.”
He just nodded and looked ahead.
His silence pissed me off.
I stood up and brushed the grass from my britches. “Alright, nice chat.” He remained quiet. “Well, thanks for the training.”
“Who said we were done?” He finally said.
I glared at him.
“I’m saying we are done,” I snapped back. “I’m going to pay my mother the respect she deserves.”
Before he walked away, he stopped next to me.
“See you in bed,” he smirked.
His smile was so wide—like he couldn’t help himself—as he walked past me. His arm gently touched mine.
I turned around to face him as he walked away. “Respectfully, Zayn…. Fuck off.”
I stormed off.
Chapter Twenty
I needed to breathe. I needed somewhere that didn’t feel so heavy. My feet knew the way before my thoughts caught up—past the stone path Eryn and I ran every day at the edge of the cliff, through the thinning trees and the crackling remains of autumn beneath my boots. The wind sliced through my cloak like it had something to prove, and the sky above was darkening in that pale, cloud-covered way that warned of winter.
The field opened before me, just as it always had.
But it wasn’t the same.
The wildflowers were gone. No lavender tufts danced in the breeze, no golden petals smiled up at the sun. Just withered stalks, brown and brittle, leaned toward the earth like they’d given up. The grass was fading too, stiff and dry beneath the soles of my boots. This place used to hum with life. Now it whispered only of endings.And here—right here—I once stood at the cliff’s edge and wondered what it would feel like to fly. Or maybe to fall. I just wanted to feel something bigger than the pain I carried.
Now the pain was all that was left.
Mother used to love when I picked her wildflowers. I would come home, my hands stained with color, and Mother would pluck a flower from my bundle and place it behind my ear. She would tell me it made me look like the spring itself had fallen in love with me. I used to believe her. I used to believe a lot of things.
I saw it before I truly registered what it was—the simple cross of wood standing upright in the ground.
I froze.
A gust of wind curled around me, but I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My breath caught in my throat, and somethinginside me splintered. I stood in the once barren meadow, staring at Mother’s grave from a distance, my heart heavy with the desolation that surrounded me.
Winter could be so cruel.
Mother deserved to be buried in a beautiful place.
I closed my eyes, drew upon the depths of my Earth magic, feeling the vibrant energy that pulsed beneath my feet. With a deep breath, I gently extended my hands toward the ground, envisioning the colors and life that once flourished in this place. Slowly, a warm glow radiated from my fingertips, seeping into the dry soil. The air trembled with a soft, melodic hum as they began to respond, stirring as if awakening from a long slumber. I felt the familiar rush of energy coursing through me, amplifying with every heartbeat. One by one, the wildflowers broke through the earth’s surface, their brilliant hues unfurling like joyous flags announcing the return of summer. Delicate daisies, vibrant poppies, and fragrant lavender blossomed in an exquisite tapestry of color. The grass, once brown and brittle, sprang to life, lush and green, creating a soft carpet beneath my feet. As I watched, a smile spread across my face, my heart swelling with warmth. The meadow erupted with the sounds of nature—the gentle rustling of grass in a whispering breeze and the sweet melodies of returning birds. It was as if the land itself was rejoicing in my magic, celebrating the revival of life that I had so lovingly orchestrated. I felt the connection between myself and the meadow strengthen. The air was now perfumed with the sweet scent of blossoms. I felt a profound sense of peace, knowing I had breathed life back into a once-forgotten corner of the world, making it a haven of beauty once more.
I walked across the field and stopped at the cross.
My knees hit the ground. Cold grass bit into my palms as I crawled the last few steps and reached for the base of the cross, my fingers trembling.
I pressed my forehead against the wood.
