Page 6 of Heart of Night and Fire

With another heavy sigh, Zarya drained the wine bottle, her head spinning slightly now. Deciding she couldn’t face the confinement of her bedroom tonight, she lay down in the sand, pressing her cheek to the blanket, imagining a day, somewhere in her muddled future, when maybe her life would finally begin.

THREE

Eventually, Zarya fell into an unsettled sleep and dreamed of a forest swirling in mist and shadow. The trees were tall, with expansive trunks and leafy branches reaching into a brilliant violet sky, streaked with thick rivers of twinkling stars.

But it didn’t feel exactly like a dream. It was too real to be only in her head. The grass tickled her cheek where she lay, and the soft breeze caressed her hair and rustled the leaves. Confused, she slowly stood up, walked towards a small clearing ahead, and stopped, scanning her surroundings.

She was sure she’d never been here before, but there was something familiar about it. Like a scent from a memory you’d nearly forgotten.

The stars overhead beckoned—she’d never seen so many of them in one place before—and she reached up, drawing on their brightness as their light twirled between her fingers. She studied the effect, more substantial and dense than her normal magic.

Surely, this had to be a dream, but it felt like something more. This felt like magic.

A small breath of surprise escaped her lips when she realized she wasn’t alone. At the edge of the clearing stood a hooded figure, surrounded by mist and shadow. Though her mind ordered her to be on her guard, something about the stranger told her she was safe.

The figure was tall and broad, suggesting a male body. He lifted his head, just enough so she could make out the flash of dark eyes and the angle of a defined cheekbone. A hint of an inky hairline and the corner of a full mouth. She could tell from the crescents reflected in his eyes that he was watching her. Intently, it seemed.

Unable to look away, she stared back, the silence fractured only by the soft buzz of dragonflies and the twittering of mynas in the trees. Energy filled the air and spread across her skin like waves lapping at the shore. The hairs on her neck stood up as a shiver rolled down her spine.

But she wasn’t afraid.

An abrupt moment later, Zarya winced as sunlight burned through her eyelids, scorching her retinas.

She groaned as she rolled over, both from the dull throb in her temple and the stab of pain that shot through her hip from sleeping on the packed sand. The empty bottle of wine lay next to her—a reminder of why her stomach was currently doing its best impression of an acrobat spinning over a pit.

It took her a moment to remember why she was lying outside as she blinked over and over, shielding her eyes from the sun. Where had she gone in her dream? Who had stood with her in that clearing? Why had it felt so familiar?

It was then she remembered Row and Aarav. Were they back? Why hadn’t they woken her up?

With her head spinning, she staggered to her feet and then paused, leaning forward with her hands braced on her knees.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she clasped a hand to her mouth and held her breath, fighting down a wave of cresting nausea. Once it had passed, she pressed herself up and stumbled into the cottage.

“Row! Aarav! Are you here?” she called as she crossed the living room. No reply came as she flung open Aarav’s and then Row’s bedroom doors, finding both spaces empty.

Where were they?

Supporting herself against a doorframe, she clutched her hand to her stomach and waited for another wave of nausea to pass. Inhaling through her nose and out through her mouth, she willed her gut to settle.

Then she headed back outside, trotting in the direction Aarav had left yesterday, hoping she might intercept him and Row already on their way home. She wound her way down the narrow path, overgrown with bushes, their black leaves tickling her legs with a soft rustle. But there was still no sign of them.

She continued along her path, approaching the spot where she knew Row’s magic would start to weigh her down. That telltale pressure that squeezed her limbs, alerting her she was nearing the edge of her cage.

But nothing happened.

A soft breeze tangled her hair as she stopped and looked around, wondering if she was still dreaming or perhaps the victim of an elaborate prank.

Row didn’t really have a sense of humor, though.

But this was where his magic should be weighing on her with the crushing force that stuck in the back of her throat.

She took another careful step, as if tiptoeing barefoot over broken glass, but still nothing happened.

And then another.

Still nothing.

Up ahead was the point where she usually blacked out.