One tiny step. One tiny plunge.
One deep dive into our ever after that never was, before an inky nothing pours into my lungs and snuffs out my flame—
I’m folded forward against something hard and cold. My jaw is pried open, fingers probing so far down my throat my stomach spasms. Bile saws up my throat in a lumpy, splattering pour of acid and half-digested caspun.
“That’s it. Get it all out.”
Again, her fingers gore deep. Again, my throat blazes with fiery wrath until I’m so empty the only thing left for me to spew is my aching guts.
I’m lugged back, head flopping, and then I’m lifted.
Floating again.
Scalding water hammers my chest and smothers me in a boiling spill, waging war with my frosty skin.
A scream rips up my throat.
I try to squirm, buck, flee—but my limbs are cast in ice.
“S-stop …”
I’m certain my flesh is blistering. Will it slip off my bones in bloody drips that swirl down the drain and disappear forever?
Don’t cry—
My raspy scream echoes off the walls, and I reach up, tangling my fingers with the long, sodden streaks of Zali’s hair. “Pl-please … t-too …hot—”
“If I don’t heat you up, you’ll die.”
The words fade into a soft, distant echo as I’m reeled toward that inky endless … head tipping … arm dropping to the stone …
Another slap tosses my head sideways so fast the world tips on its axis.
“Stay awake.”
Her voice attacks me like a swinging hammer, and I open my eyes. Sketch the blurred shape of Zali’s face—her eyes twin swirls of rusty resolution.
She eases me onto the stone floor, my head in her lap, then reaches sideways and digs through something that rustles about. Water continues to pound me as her fingers thread between my lips and crank my jaw. Something is shoved beneath my tongue before my teeth are allowed to snap shut, the gooey substance softening.
Melting.
A familiar taste glides across my tastebuds, tugging the strings of my conscious mind …
Exothryl.
“Swallow,” Zali orders, and the milky sheen glides down my throat, planting a seed of warmth inside my gut.
Why is she trying to help me?
“I k-killed … your … promised …”
“And now you’re stuck with me,” she murmurs. “Hopefully my superior communication skills will save me from getting stabbed in the heart.”
I groan, and my lids yield to the downward tug. Again, my lips are pried open, the underside of my tongue burdened by another chalky node.
Water continues to stomp my chest, thawing me from the outside while warmth takes root within—planting an ember in my barely beating heart. Stirring my pulse.
My mind.
