Page 228 of May: Bloom & Bane

“Of course it’s me,” she choke-laughs. “Who else would it be?” Her belly presses against us, a soft warmth that burns through the residual frost of the vision. A sliver of my shadow uncurls from the rest of me and reaches for her, slipping beneath the hem of her dress, spreading across the curve of her belly the way it has a hundred times. From the other side of the warmth, Vaelína nudges back. A small, insistent press against my shadow, awake and reaching.

Hi, míní, I whisper into the place only she and I share. I missed you too.

“You were gone so long,” Eden cries. “I didn’t know… if it was like last time you left.”

I wrap my vorí arm around her waist, pulling her flush against our chest so the erratic rhythm of her heart beats directly against our own.

“I’m back. And I’m never leaving you again.” Anya. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

She pulls back to look at us, her green eyes shimmering with tears, small hands cradling our jaw.

“Where else would I be?” she whispers, her gaze searching ours. “I couldn’t feel you, Rahnové. I’ve been sitting here for hours… just waiting for the dark to let you go.”

A lump rises in my throat.

Ash? Sage’s voice echoes inside our mind. What’s wrong?

I tighten my grip on her waist.

“Don’t leave,” I breathe against her lips. “Please, don’t leave.”

“Rahnové?” She searches my eye. “Why would I leave?”

Ashán? Sage whispers. You’re starting to scare me.

They’re both reaching into the same raw, overflowing place inside of me, and I don’t have enough of myself to answer either one the way they deserve.

Not now, Sage, I rasp, trying to drown out his frantic whispering before he can dig any deeper into the bleeding edges of my mind.

He recoils. Ash, what did you find out that you can’t say even to me?

I have to tell him first—my other half, the one who lived it, the one who deserves to know three thousand years of truth before anyone else—and I can’t, because Eden is in my arms, wrapped in my shadow, carrying the child we made. The one person the truth is most dangerous to. The one person I’d spend an eternity in the void for before I’d hurt.

“Ashán.” She pulls her face away from ours, another tear slipping free. “I don’t like how you feel right now. You just came back, but it feels like you’re saying goodbye.” Her hands tremble against my jaw. “Talk to me. Please. Whatever it is, you can tell me. There are no secrets between you, me, and Sage.”

No secrets. Gods. The irony nearly takes me to my knees.

“I’m not saying goodbye,” I rasp, my shadow coiling tighter against her belly in a silent plea. Stay, stay, stay.

Sage paces inside our mind. Ash, please. Let me in.

I reach for him. I’m sorry. I’m not shutting you out. I swear to you, on whatever we are, I am going to tell you everything. Every single thing I learned down there, and it’s— My voice cracks. It’s so much. It’s everything. And you deserve to hear it first, before anyone, but I can’t say it here. Not in front of her. So I need you to trust me. For a long moment, there’s nothing. Just the frightened quiet of him.

Okay, he says.

That’s all. Okay. No pushing or clawing for the answers.

Eden presses closer, both hands framing our jaw. “I’m not letting this go, Ashán. Something is different. You’re looking at me like—I don’t know how to explain it. I will not be able to relax until I know what’s going on with you. So tell me.”

Ash, Sage murmurs.

“Ash?” Eden urges.

Eden’s eyes bore into mine.

We were Micah, I tell him. But before Micah we were Therin—three lives, Sage, we’ve lived three lives⁠—

Ash, slow down, I don’t⁠—