Page 9 of Revealing Fate

She tipped all the herbs into the pot and stirred. She doubted they would provide any nutritional benefit, but it was better than nothing. Felíne didn’t know when she’d be able to eat again. Or drink, for that matter. She lifted the pot and swallowed a few hearty gulps of the broth.

Felíne took a potato out of the pot and began munching as she continued her preparation. She would leave Kal at least a few of the starchy vegetables. Guilt reared hard and fast as she contemplated him returning to find her gone, and the thought threatened to stall her.

But she couldn’t think of that. She had to act. Kal wouldn’t second-guess himself. He would do what was necessary. Even if it gutted him the way it was gutting her. She stuffed the rest of the potato into her mouth.

Sig was next.

Felíne grabbed his blanket and slung it over his back. The handsome roan head twisted around to look at her. Did he know? Why did his eyes seem so accusatory?

She patted his neck. “It’s okay,” she whispered. “He’ll be okay. I just need you to get me home.” Sig snorted.

Despite her words, unease twisted like a knife in her belly. She ignored it and went to get the saddle. It was heavier than it looked. Felíne braced herself, her legs screaming as if protesting their return to horseback, and heaved the saddle into the air. She managed to get it halfway up but wasn’t strong enough to heft it onto Sig’s back. The saddle fell back to the dirt.

Felíne panted, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. She wiped it away. “Gods, horse. When did you get so tall?”

Sig turned again and nosed her, his hot horsey breath blowing onto her face.

Felíne jumped, surprised, and Sig tossed his head. What was wrong with her?

She was tired, achy, and weak. And she didn’t want to do the things she had to do. That’s what.

She stood again, planted her legs, and heaved the saddle with all her might. This time, Sig stepped away from her. Felíne lost her balance and tumbled forward with the saddle still in her hands. She knelt there, panting, sweat pouring down her face, half crouched over the pommel. Her stomach hurt terribly. She likely hit it when she fell.

Curse the saddle. Felíne dragged herself back to the camp and collapsed near her bedroll. She just needed to rest a moment before trying again. The twilight’s first hint of stars overhead rotated slowly. How in the world was she going to make it back to Asteros when she couldn’t even saddle her horse? She was burning up from the effort of it.

Felíne struggled upright, tossed off the canteen, and shrugged out of her shirt. The boots, socks, and leggings went next. Free of her cumbersome clothing, she rolled onto the bedroll. The evening breeze kissed her exposed skin in the most delicious way. Yes, rest was good. Just a few minutes.

The stars overhead continued to swirl and glow. Felíne watched with rapt fascination as a prism of colors entered the darkening sky, creeping in from her peripheral view. Pinks, purples, greens, yellows, and blues. All spinning, twisting, and touching. The bursts of color rippled among the twinkling stars in a delightful display. The cosmos danced into life.

Then one of the stars fell. It dropped right out of the sky, pulling an electric yellow wire with it like a tethered fork of lightning. Felíne sat up with a start.

The yellow star glowed in the distance, illuminating the encroaching dark. It grew the longer she watched it. First slowly, then expanding all at once. It looked like a delicate sliver of electric current winding its way around a vaguely humanoid-shaped piece of night. Another electric burst guttered near its side, this one blue.

The small blue cluster of lightning dropped to the ground, where it remained unmoving. The yellow star approached her, and Felíne fell back, shielding her eyes. A tendril of starfire flicked out from the primary coil. When it moved to touch her, Felíne reared back in alarm. The heat of that spark as it neared her face burned with a consuming intensity. This thing, whatever it was, was dangerous.

Felíne staggered to her feet. The yellow lightning wound around her wrist, and she snatched it back. “Ow!” Her wrist was glowing and hot. Too hot. This…fallen star had marked her. Burned her. Her breath came in quicker pulls as fear replaced her earlier curiosity. She heard a frenetic buzzing, and the yellow wire grew agitated, zapping with increased fervor. Its color deepened from a neon glow to a deep, brilliant gold.

Felíne stepped back and hissed as something sharp cut her foot. Why was she barefoot? Where were her boots?

The lightning extended toward her again, and Felíne panicked. She lunged for the crossbow that Kal had loaded before he’d left. She hefted it to her shoulder and pointed it at the angry star. A burst of sound exploded from the darkness within the golden coils of energy, and she startled. Her finger snagged on the trigger, and the bolt went flying. She didn’t see where it went.

Felíne didn’t have the time to reload. She stumbled blindly, frantically. All around her, fragments of glowing light lurked in the darkness. Blue, green, orange. One huge, red, and wild. What she had initially thought were friendly, benign colors had turned sinister. Was Kal seeing this?

Oh gods, Kal!

Felíne stumbled, scraping her knee on a rock, and choked on a strangled cry. She shook from the flood of terror, her body slick with sweat. Her clothes were gone, her thin undergarments doing little to protect her exposed flesh. The nighttime breeze sent chills wracking her limbs, making it difficult to move in any coordinated fashion.

“Kal!” she screamed.

She glanced behind her. The fallen star zapped angrily, shooting off sparks of dangerous energy. It was closing in.

Her voice broke on a sob. “Kal!”

The gold lightning flashed in warning. A tendril of electric wire wound around Felíne’s ankle, and she shrieked, kicking out wildly. It wouldn’t let go. It burned her everywhere it touched. The wire snapped out again and wove around her chest, pulling her back toward the darkness in its center. It was going to swallow her!

Felíne cried harder. “Let me go! Kal!”

It was deaf to her pleas.