He would do worse still.
Pure white light warmed his palm, and he pressed his thumb between Lucien’s brows and whispered, "Lucien Quenlan, I grant you the gift of knowledge. The future."
Then, he withdrew, eyes lingering on Vesperin.
"Oh, Star of mine, if only you knew. I made our home. I cannot wait for you to see it. There’s a flower field that reminds me of where we met."
He reached out, brushing her temples, sweeping aside strands of her white hair. The shade was strange, an extension of the Nova inside her. How could he resent such a change if it kept her alive?
After she died in her first life on Stella, in the small village of Luxuria, he’d been damned for his love, unable to find herin the threads of fate, hidden from him as punishment. Still, he searched. Life after life, he found her only when it was too late.
He had returned to the Celestials, to the Stars, earning back his place. They’d been waiting for him. He had been dutiful, unmeddling in the affairs of humans, all to earn the unfettered access to fate that he now had. And he used it for her.
To find her.
Five years ago, he had, and he refused to lose her again. So, he did what no Celestial had ever dared: he gave a human a piece of his Nova.
It changed her—dampening her Stella, making her heart’s rhythm discordant, each strained beat reaching for the rest of the Nova in him. Its cadence calmed when he was near.
They were not Soulbonds, but Atlas liked to think that this was far better, for she held a piece of his essence within her. The Nova would let her remember their time in Luxuria together, when she had found him, granted him a name.
This life would only be the turning point for the next.
Atlas placed the forget-me-nots taken from her dorm gently on her chest, then kissed her brow. She smelled so sweet. Her skin was so soft. Atlas sighed against her and let his body melt back into the shadows, but not before he said, "Merry Christmas."
Lucien woke up with a gasp,clutching his chest. Sweat slicked his brow, his head pounding. His glasses were askew, and he reached up with a trembling hand to rip them off and scrub his eyes. In the darkness, he saw only death.
Destruction.
He coughed, feeling like dust was still in his throat, choking him.
His leg throbbed with a phantom ache, and he kicked the sheets away, finding no blood, no bone.
Vesperin slept soundly at his side, hair falling across her cheek.
Lucien pressed his palms to his temples as if to beat back the remnants of his nightmare.
He had never had such a vivid, gruesome dream before. The feeling of crushing grief clung to him.
"It was just a dream," he whispered, turning to Vesperin to anchor himself, to remind him she was alive, and not crushed beneath?—
Delicate blue flower petals, enchanted with Earth Stella to never wilt, rested on her chest. Her hand curled around one bloom as she slept. Each soft breath made the petals flutter.
How were they here? The last he’d seen, the flowers were on her dresser in her dorm. His mind clung to that detail so as not to return to the horrors of his dream.
Sweat cooled on his skin.
"Only a dream," he said again, but the stench of death pervaded his senses as he wrapped himself around Vesperin, eyes wide and sleepless.
4
SNOW
Auren swiped his scythe through the glowing Soul hovering in the air—a man struck while riding his bike at night. Auren had felt the call while at the base with Vesperin, the Star beneath his eye warming, his scythe responding with its own glow. He left after kissing the back of her hand, promising to return.
As the Soul departed to the Stars, Auren paused.
Odd.
