Page 119
“No, not me.” Excitement and terror smothered her in turns. “That’s what Brand—er, the beast—said to me after I misted all of you out of Thodelebor. When I asked who and what it was, that was its answer.”
“Sounds like that cunting beast has a name, then. Feels right.” Fern nodded and gripped Lunara’s knee. “What’s the last bit?”
Lunara read aloud without looking ahead—more fool her. “‘When Twilight calls and weaves…the…cage…’”
No. It’s too much. Too much.
“Lunara?”
Her stomach plummeted. The book…its words…
They were talking to her, just like—
“Hello, Moth.”
Damn that sing-song tone and her wretched, wonderful timing.
A giggle sounded in Lunara’s mind at the thought, its familiar echoes as much a relief as they were utterly infuriating
Endellion! Where have you been?
It was no surprise when she completely ignored the question. “Would you like to finish, or shall I? Never mind, I already know the answer.”
Spots crowded Lunara’s vision as pressure built, and she gritted her teeth against the pain.
Please. Can’t we just talk? I don’t want this. I don’t want another—
Too late.
As if there were thousands of her, Endellion’s layered voice crashed through her skull and recited the words Lunara refused to. “When Twilight calls and weaves the cage, his darkness screams beneath its bands. But what if midnight radiance deigned to hold the nightmare in her hands?”
The world went black and Lunara fell into unconsciousness.
Sokar wasn’t joking. Dreams in the library were strange.
Lunara followed behind Endellion, listening to her chatter of utter nonsense, when the Oracle split apart from herself, doubling. Two sets of ivory, feathered wings. Two impossible manes of starlight hair, dragging on the ground behind her. Or…them.
The renderings mirrored each other as they moved, the left arm of one sweeping out in harmony with the right arm of the other. If only Lunara could see what she—they—were pointing at, but it was too damned bright. Every time they turned their heads, as if to share a secret, a golden shine blinded her.
There were snippets, though, on the edges.
Verdant green and sparkling water. Children playing, with wings of their own. Swaths of darkness amidst glittering explosions. Galaxies rippling by and standing still in spurts. Obsidian shards rising up from bones and black sand. Two diamond boxes, end to end. Trees tangling, roots spreading, a wall formed above and below. Ripples cascading across the sky, landing with a flash and seal on the horizon.
A desert on fire, its dunes near-endless, two sunstars blazing above.
A clear, evening sky twinkling beyond dancing swirls of searing pink and viridescent light.
A year in a day, the seasons cycling in life and death pairs to replenish the land.
A set of sienna peaks at daybreak.
A crystalline star bleeding beneath the twin moons.
The Occurrences?
It must be. The last two reminded Lunara so starkly of her homes—one by birth, and one by heart—that there was no doubting it.
Tears welled and fell, the weight of them pulling her down, down, down until her knees struck the dirt. She didn’t want to be here anymore. Not in this dream. Not in the library. She wanted peace, and her mate.
