Page 22 of May: Bloom & Bane

No, no! Big Bird is slow! Droot chirps, his neon light zig-zagging through the mist. Not the stick-house. The shiny house. The suntrap! Follow the King.

I frown, exchanging a look with Eden.

I never built another house?

We follow Droot deeper into the meadow, our home for the past year shrinking behind us.

We’ve been walking for an hour, and the land continues its reaction to our first kiss. One minute we’re wading through knee-deep snow that smells like lavender, and the next the sun beats down so hot the mud steams around our ankles.

I’m leaning on her so heavily I’m ashamed. It’s supposed to be the other way around, but I’ve wrung every drop of magic from my core. Every time my wingtips brush the ground, they leave a trail of charcoal dust instead of their usual golden shimmer.

“Are you okay?” Eden asks, her voice steadying me as I stumble over a hidden root.

“Just… tired,” I manage.

I feel like a plant that’s been drying in the desert with no water.

Almost there! Droot chirps. Big Bird is a floppy noodle! He is a tiny blue beacon against the shifting colors of the meadow. Follow the King. The suntrap is past the singing creek.

“Singing creek?” I mutter. “I’ve never seen that?”

But as we crest the next hill, a stream of crystalline water has split the earth, gurgling softly over stones that glow with a faint inner light. Beyond it, a giant house awaits. It looks tall enough to stack four of me without my wings hitting a single rafter.

“Sage?” Her voice is small. “Do you know why I was in there? The glass box?”

My heart stutters. How do I tell her that I don’t? That I only met her moments after I woke from my own grave.

You have known her soul for lifetimes, whispers the voice inside my mind.

“I don’t have the answers, ílyara,” I murmur. (My Sun) “I just know that the world didn’t feel right until I found you resting inside it.”

She stops walking, forcing me to find my own balance for a second. She looks down at her hands, then back at me.

“I don’t remember anything,” she whispers. “Only your voice.”

Her fingers graze over the smooth green skin of my forearm. Even through exhaustion, the bond flares to life—a warm, golden tug that tells me she’s ním. (Mine)

The ache in my bones quiets for just a moment. She might not feel the weight of what we are, but her soul recognizes mine.

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” she admits, her brow furrowing. “But I’ve only just seen your face. Is that… the meadow’s magic?”

“That’s our magic,” I murmur, pulling her back into the crook of my arm.

The creek is shallow, but the stones beneath are slick with moss. I misstep, and my knee buckles. Eden’s arm tightens around my waist.

“You really need to rest. You’re turning… gray,” she says softly.

“I should be the one carrying you,” I rasp. “I’m sorry. I wanted the moment you woke up to be perfect.”

She smiles. “You’ve been carrying me for over a year.”

Droot is already on the other side, bouncing impatiently. Hurry! The suntrap doesn’t wait. The snacks get cold!

“What snacks?” I mutter.

We cross the creek, and the house looms over us. The glass walls of a giant greenhouse shimmer, reflecting the mess of seasons swirling around us. The tall arched door is made of pale wood that smells like walnuts and safety.

There’s no lock… no handle. It simply opens for us. Cool air pours out like an embrace. My knees nearly give out again.