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I cursed, running my hands through my hair, wishing I could understand more of what her prophecy meant, if it even was a prophecy. Desperation clawed at my throat. My heart pounded fiercely, and everyone heard it.
“What is happening to him, Broca?” Pollux demanded, storming up to her and placing the tip of a blade into the soft skin under the chin. “Speak now, or I’ll take great pleasure in torturing you for the eternity I’ve been damned to exist here.”
Broca cackled at his posturing, displaying yellow teeth as she laughed at him. Her form shifted once more, the features of a beautiful woodland spirit appearing in place of the haggard crone.
“Pol, look,” Abyssian said in a rushed tone, grabbing the man by his arm and pointing toward me. Oberon’s lips parted as he gasped, and Styx’s eyes widened.
Everyone in the room looked in my direction, speechless at what we were all seeing.
Fire licked at my skin and my fingertips tingled. Portal magic. Access to a spell I hadn’t conjured since half my soul had been locked away in a guardian’s possession. Holding my hand palm up, a fine glittery mist formed.
“How?” I asked, feeling the power flow through my veins again. It breathed new life into me. I twirled my fingers, watching the magic snake between them, looping around in a rainbow of colors. Gods, how I’d missed it.
The cloying scent of apples and oak began to permeate the air, and my stomach tightened as a fleeting rush of desire pulsed in the recesses of my mind.
The elation was short-lived when a painful throb split through my brain, and a scream sounded in my head. Clenching my jaw through the ache, the torment and tension brought me to my knees, a loud smack filling the room when I crumbled to the floor, cradling my head in my hands.
Styx and Oberon dropped beside me, attempting to hold me up. “What’s happening to him?” he yelled, looking at the glaistig.
I met her eyes, and the words she spoke reverberated off the walls before chaos ensued.
Her green eyes gleamed, and a cruel smile curled up Broca’s red lips.
“The ward is breaking.”
Chapter4
Reagan
The distinctive scent of eastern redbuds, oak trees, and fresh water flooded my senses. An orange glow colored the western sky, rapidly disappearing and highlighting a sky speckled with stars in its wake.
Standing near a creek, I turned around, taking in my surroundings. I didn’t know where I was, or how I’d come to this location.
“Hello?” I called out. My voice echoed in the twilight, unanswered.
Not a sound. No animals scurrying or leaves rustling. There wasn’t even a gust of wind, but my skin suddenly felt chilled.
Movement downstream caught my attention, and I looked over to find an old cathedral where there hadn’t been one before.
A warm light flickered through a window; little silhouettes danced around the frame. A shadow coiled and moved like a finger beckoning me to come closer. My heart pounded. A whisper in my mind saiddanger, but my curiosity fueled me. Something about this place seemed familiar, and yet it felt new. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew I had to see who was inside.
Peering through the glass, I saw the back of a little girl lying in her bed, tucked in on her side. Twin braids peeked out of the covers. A lantern lit the dim room, and an older woman sat down beside her. The bed dipped, the springs creaking with the added weight. Her red robe wrapped around her body and tied in the middle. With round glasses and mousy brown hair piled into a bun on top of her head, she looked pretty, but plain.
“Are you ready for a story?” she asked. Though I’d never heard the woman’s voice, I remembered it. I knew her, yet I couldn’t remember why.
The little girl nodded and rolled over, clasping her hands across her stomach. When I looked at her face, I gasped.
Large, dark brown eyes were framed by long lashes, and with a single, tiny beauty mark near the crease of her nose. The top of her pink lips curved into a familiar cupid’s bow. I absentmindedly touched my own, tracing it with my fingertip.
An indistinguishable tattoo peeked out from her nightgown, arching over her shoulder just slightly.
I was looking at myself. I couldn’t have been more than five years old.
A lump formed in my throat, robbing me of the ability to speak. I banged on the window, but neither of them stirred.
“It’s time you knew,” the old woman said, reaching to move a strand of dark brown hair off the little girl’s face.
“Know what, Elda?” she asked, her small voice innocent and soft.
