Page 137 of A Thread of Breath and Bone

The voice echoes through the vastness of my tomb, in my mind, in my soul. I recognize that voice. It was once my home. Another tear falls. I wish I had more time with him. We were supposed to have forever.

Something in the back of my mind stirs at that thought. A human lifespan, or an immortal one, I will always love you. Ryker had said that. The memory is foggy, just beyond, but I have nothing but time until my end. So I dig, clawing at the recesses of my mind. More tears fall as I remember. We had been at The Drift on Kyrr.

More memories flash. Each one comes faster than the last until I remember that this eternal agony is not my death, but a renewal. It’s my awakening.

I inhale sharply, drawing in enough air to smother the flames within. At once, the agony ends. The end of my life disappearing into oblivion. I’m not dying. Determination claws at me. I lift my hands, admiring the strength in them. They look like my hands, but not really.

I twist and turn them above my face, watching what appears to be strands of gold running through me like veins. That’s when I feel it. My magic. What used to be a well that I could barely count on is gone. I am one with magic. It is me.

I know it would be as easy as walking through a door. I don’t have to beg. If I wanted to burn, I would burn. I sink further into myself, finding more magic I’ve never known. Smaller magic that is considered simple in the eyes of the Elven. The ability to move nature: a root, a pile of rocks…

It’s at my command.

Then there’s the healing. It sits there like a patient and silent observer, ready to be used when needed. I can heal myself and others.

I can heal myself.

I reach for it, gasping as knowledge floods my mind. I’ve always been someone who has craved knowledge, and now… I arch my back, laughing as I take note of the stacks upon stacks of knowledge now collected in my mind.

Is this what all the Fae and Elven feel?

They must have thought us young and naive. Another rumble of Ryker’s voice echoes, and my heart beats once more. I reach for my power. Light does not beg to be seen. It learns to burn. So I burn. For if there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that light always drives out the darkness.

In an instant, the darkness retreats, and when my vision clears, Ryker is there, above me. “Hi,” I whisper, one last tear falling.

His mouth slams down upon mine. He licks into my mouth, tasting me. I melt into him, moving to my knees, my arms moving to his shoulders, toying with his silky strands. Kissing him is like air for my lungs, so I kiss him like I’ve been drowning.

There’s nothing sweet about this kiss. It’s rough and desperate, and I can feel him trembling beneath me. “Ry,” I manage before he seals my mouth again. When I pull away, his nose drags up along mine, inhaling deeply until his lips press to my forehead.

The fog of my mind clears, and I remember. I’m too scared to look at him. Scared to see the changes. Instead, I inhale. He still smells like him, but the notes are somehow fuller, more alive. When I scent the storm over the oceans, it's as if I can taste the rain. The sandalwood coats me with a warmth, like warm honey dripping over my skin. The citrus notes feel like the sun on my face and birds in the air.

Ryker’s scent.

I’ve never been able to put my finger on it…not really. But now, now I can distinguish it clear as day. Like picking out the color blue in front of a white backdrop. It's so obvious it's hard to remember why I couldn’t tell before. He smells of salt and masculinity and home.

I don’t know what compels me to do it—perhaps it’s my Elven instinct to claim what is mine, or the way his new scent pulls at my very soul—but I lean in. My tongue darts out, licking up the column of his neck.

Gods, he tastes of rain-drenched earth and electric sparks. It’s a flavor that shouldn't be humanly possible, and it hits me like a drug. I feel the low, guttural vibration of his groan against my skin, a sound that is more animal than man.

He anchors me to him, his fingers digging into my hips as if he’s trying to merge our very essences. This isn't the sweet, tentative love of our school days. This is primal. This is the Fae and the Elven finally recognizing the match they were designed for.

“Look at me,” Ryker whispers. “Open your eyes, Soraea.” I shake my head. His fingers tilt my chin up as his lips press a kiss to each eyelid. “Open your eyes, love. Trust me.”

Slowly, I peel them open, already bracing for what I will find. His inky hair is the first thing I see, then those beautiful blue eyes I love so very much.

“Hi, Princess,” he mutters. He takes my hand, moving it to his heart, where it beats slowly beneath my palm. So slow in fact that I know this is all real. “I’m still me, love.”

Behind me, a breeze blows my hair, and I turn to see the emissary forming again. It appears from the floor up. The hem of its white robes first, then the belt, and large billowing sleeves. The last thing to appear is the deep hood that hides its face. I’m sure that to look upon its face would become a living nightmare.

I once heard that the reason the Primordials never took physical form was because nobody could hold that kind of power and ever be separated from it, not even for a second. So they let their children take on the burden.

It’s why Caelus’ eyes glow with blue fire. His power is contained, but only temporarily. When I asked Finn about how often he’s spoken to Caelus, he shook his head and said only once. The gods do not make it a habit to be in mortal form.

Astor and Calia didn’t appear to us in mortal form either, but they didn’t seem terrifying. They felt otherworldly, yes, but I felt safe. Maybe that was on purpose. They had allowed us to enter Sgya. They chose to reveal themselves. I wonder what it would be like to look upon the faces of Kane and Ravana.

A shiver snakes up my spine at the thought, and I return my attention to the emissary. “The awakening is now complete,” its haunting voice breaks the silence. “You are Lumisthariel, Soraea. Restored to your full potential. This is the last time the Primordials will intervene. Fear the day you meet them, for it will be your last.”

I swear I hear Ryker growl beside me. The low vibration resonates through my body.