Her eyessearedinto mine across the mirrored stone.
Burning. Accusing.
“You didn’t help me,” she whispered.
A ragged gasp tore out of my chest, and before thoughts could catch up, my legslungedforward, driven by instinct more than reason. Each stridepoundedthe stone, a relentless surge toward her.
“You were too late.”
The words shattered from the crystal, echoed across the vast sky, and reverberated through my sternum—a deep, bone-rattling tremor that hollowed me out.
Ireeledback, bilesurgingup my throat.
She was dead. And somehow, it was because of me.
The ground tilted. My heel caught on a shard of crystal. I went down, hands scraping raw across the stone.
Pain flared, but I barely felt it.
The vision shimmered and then fractured, breaking apart like ice underfoot.
And a hand touched my shoulder.
Warm. Real. Steady.
Her voice followed, low and real and full of breath.
“Erindor?”
I looked up.
Wyn lowered herself beside me, her eyes wide with worry. “You saw something.”
“I…No, it’s fine.” I looked down, realizing I’d cut my palm on the glassy stone. Blood welled slowly from the gash.
She reached into her satchel and began pulling out a small cloth and some dried herbs.
“You don’t have to—”
“Shut up and give me your hand,” she gestured, her hand outstretched.
I obeyed.
Her fingers were gentle. Too gentle. I didn’t deserve it. I didn’t deserve her.
She wrapped the cloth with precision, but her touch lingered. I watched her lips part slightly in concentration. A rose-colored dust coated her cheeks. The wind pulled a few wisps of her hair free, and they danced like silk threads in the frigid air.
And then the words slipped from me before I could stop them.
“You’re…not just beautiful, you know. You’re…good. All the way through.”
Her hands stilled. She looked up, stunned.
I coughed. “I mean—I meant—Forget I said that.”
“No,” she breathed, the single word a quiet vow.“I won’t.”
Silence stretched between us. I could feel my face burning.
