Page 118 of The Curse of Golden Blood
Fell.
Rose again.
thirty-one
The Seed of Fire
Miralyte
Theworldrushedbackin pieces.
Light. Brilliant, burning light that penetrated every corner of my vision like liquid fire. I blinked, but the radiance didn't dim. It came from everywhere and nowhere, a golden wash that transformed the stone chamber into something divine.
Then came the sounds. The steady rhythm of breathing that wasn't my own. The soft whisper of fabric against skin. The distant rumble of thunder rolling across mountains I could see through stone walls. Every noise crisp and immediate, as if someone had pulled cotton from my ears after years of muffled hearing.
Scent followed. Cedar and lightning and something metallic that spoke of fear and desperation. But underneath it all, life. Pure, crackling life that made my fingers tingle and my heart race with awareness I'd never possessed before.
I turned my head, and the simple movement sent sparks of sensation across my scalp. My hair felt different. Heavier. More alive. Like each strand carried its own current of energy.
Zydar knelt beside me, his face streaked with tears that caught the strange golden light. His expression held something I'd never seen before. Relief so profound it bordered on worship. Joy so fierce it made him look younger, less like the warlord who commanded storms and more like the man who'd held me through nightmares.
"Zydar?" My voice came out wrong. Too clear. Too melodic.
He reached for me with trembling hands, cupping my face like I might shatter at the touch. "You're alive. You're here. I thought I'd lost you."
The words hit me with force that sent shockwaves through my chest. Lost me? I tried to sit up, and my body responded with fluid grace I'd never possessed. Every muscle moved in perfect coordination, strength flowing through me like molten gold.
That's when I felt them.
Wings.
Massive, powerful things that stretched from my shoulder blades with weight that should have been foreign but felt as natural as breathing. I could sense every feather, every joint, every membrane that connected them to my transformed body. They rustled as I moved, creating their own breeze that carried scents from across the chamber.
"What happened to me?"
I whispered, staring at my hands. They looked the same but felt different. Alive in ways that transcended simple flesh and bone. Power thrummed beneath my skin, golden threads of energy that pulsed with my heartbeat.
Zydar helped me sit up, his touch gentle but reverent. "You died, Mira."
The words should have terrified me. Instead, they felt like puzzle pieces clicking into place. Death. Yes, I remembered the cold spreading through my limbs. The way my heart had stuttered to a stop. The sensation of floating away from pain and blood and the terrible emptiness in my chest.
But I also remembered choosing to come back.
"If I died," I said slowly, testing the thought, "then the barrier is gone. The protection spell my mother put on me to hide what I am."
Understanding dawned in his eyes. "Your fae heritage. It's fully awakened now."
I nodded, feeling the truth of it in every enhanced sense, every new perception flooding through me. This was who I'd always been meant to be. The power that had been locked away was finally free.
He pulled me against him, and I melted into the embrace. His scent surrounded me, familiar and comforting despite the overwhelming newness of everything else. His arms felt like safety, like home, like the one constant in a world that had suddenly become impossibly vast and vibrant.
I pulled back to look at him, studying the guilt etched in every line of his face. "Don't blame Gryven."
His eyes flashed with anger. "He enabled this. He brought you to that monster—"
"I offered them my heart." The words came out firmer than I'd intended, carrying undertones of power that made the air shimmer. "I chose this, Zydar. I volunteered. No one else was to blame."
"Why?" The question burst from him like a physical pain. "Why would you wish for your death?"
