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My fingertips glistened with sap.
I swore my head pounded harder.
I’d had a headache for the past four days. Ever since Darro had disappeared, a pressure had banded over my temples and eyes, refusing to cure even when Way had visited me last night at Solin’s request. Her calm and graceful bedside manner never failed to soothe me, and the immense knowledge in her almond, cat-like eyes granted confidence that I would be well tended under her attentive care.
Yet the willow bark, devil’s claw, and wild ginger tea she’d brewed did nothing to shift my discomfort.
“Concentrate, Runa,” Pallen snapped as I blinked past sickness and kept tearing as carefully as I could. The leaf parted reluctantly, glowing a brighter green.
My trembling grew worse.
The pain in my head slipped down to throb in the base of my skull. A flush of sweat rolled between my breasts, and I longed to unwrap my deerskin and let my skin breathe.
Pallen’s ancient stare left my hands and travelled to my face. She studied me for a while. Beneath her scrutiny, my pain became worse.
So, so much worse.
The ache travelled down my spine, crashing through every bone, scratching around my ribs, before settling agonisingly sharp in my stomach.
A vicious lance ripped through my middle.
I groaned and bent forward, forgetting about the leaf and wedging both fists into my lower belly.
Pallen didn’t move.
She watched me as I sweated and gasped as another wave of agony coursed through me. It grew and grew, banding and clenching, seeping between my legs.
Unlike the passions that Darro awakened in my blood, this pain wasn’t brought on by desire. It couldn’t be soothed with a sensual touch or wicked kiss.
Another clench around my middle and then a gush of wet heat between my thighs.
I flushed with horror.
Looking down at my lap, I couldn’t see what’d just happened, and I dared not raise my deerskin in front of Pallen.
I cried out as another wave of punishment worked through me, followed swiftly by nausea and a skull-cracking headache.
Pallen reached forward and touched my forehead, smearing my sweat between her fingers before raising her voice to her apprentices working by the willows. “Meko, Jilaa, you may go. Take what you’re working on with you.”
They nodded immediately, full of respect and obedience. “As you command, Pallen.” Quickly, they gathered up carved bowls and hipbone platters that held all the ingredients they’d been working with. Tucking them safely into their arms, they left without another word.
Only once they were gone did Pallen lean closer and touch my forehead again. “Tell me, child. What ails you?”
I couldn’t speak past another rush of misery. It centred in my lower belly, furious and cruel. I moaned and wrapped both arms around myself. My eyes unfocused as the very air around me shimmered.
Blinking, I shook my head, trying to shed the ribbons of light and glittery threads of colours.
But they wouldn’t disperse.
They only grew brighter.
Green auras danced around every willow frond. The river babbled with turquoise and sapphire. The sun beamed hazy gold. The ground spangled with every shade of bracken and bronze. And birds flittered past in wakes of purples, pinks, and silvers—their chirps and twills visible with musical colours, drifting like twinkling yellow snowflakes.
The world was alive with vibrancy, growing brighter and sharper with every lash of excruciating pain.
I moaned as another flush of wetness flowed between my legs.
My entire body turned into a furnace.
The very air that I’d never noticed nor thought to notice became everything.
It consumed me.
Its colossal power contained every lifeforce. It kept every spirit—those animating plants, wings, and water—safe within its invisibility. It blanketed all us, purifying our home, cocooning our existence, flowing through lungs and blood so silently, so selflessly, granting immortal beings a mortal life.
“You’re beginning to see,” a cool, pure voice whispered in my head. “To see what we are. To see what you are. To see we are all connected.”
“Runa.” Pallen’s worried tone sounded so far away.
“Give in,” the airy, sparkly voice hissed. “Let us show you what you have forgotten.”
Another crash of pain split me in two.
I screamed as I tumbled forward, pressing my forehead to the golden browns and warm cinnamons of the earth.
A dull rumble echoed.
The river waked over its shore.
Pain centred directly between my legs until I couldn’t endure it. Couldn’t survive it. Tears streamed down my face, saltwater plopping from my cheeks and soaking into the leaf-littered earth.
Pallen’s gasp and choked prayer to the fire was drowned out by the rushing, gushing, crashing, sprouting magic that exploded out of me.
I fell to my side.
I struggled to stay coherent beneath bleeding, blinding colours.
Plants I’d never seen before suddenly burst forth from the dirt all around me. Bushes full of ripe berries shook off soil as they speared skyward. The grasslands shivered as the uniform golden seed-heads were suddenly interspersed with trees groaning with fruits.
