Echo (The Soul Seekers 2)

Flying so much higher than I did as the red-tailed hawk I merged with just a few hours earlier. The sensation so glorious, so liberating, I can’t bear to land.

Somewhere in the distance, Cree’s rattle quickens—tiny beads bouncing furiously against rawhide. Calling us home. But I’m not ready yet.

We dip low.

And then lower still.

Veering toward a landscape that’s drastically changed. A broken desert chaparral. A place of untold corruption and defeat. Its sagging homes and damaged people instantly identifying it as Enchantment.

A sad sack of a town, carelessly desecrated at the hands of the Richters—the bloodline I share.

We glide past the Rabbit Hole, seeing it cloaked in a cloud of murky brown haze I never noticed until now.

We sail past Paloma’s adobe with the vibrant blue gate, the entire width of her property surrounded by a glorious wreath of light.

The town consisting of pockets both light and dark.

But mostly dark.

Primarily dark.

And then Cade.

We swoop into the alleyway that lies behind the Rabbit Hole. Going unnoticed as he pushes a girl hard against the wall and tugs at the neck of her shirt.

A girl with long dark hair that falls into her face, obscuring it in a way I can’t see.

She turns her head—tries in vain to scream. Barely able to eke out more than a yelp, before Cade silences her with a h

and slapped over her face.

His eyes blaze red. His mouth fills with snakes. Transformed into the beast that he is, he emits a spine-chilling growl and gouges her chest with his fangs.

Soul stealing.

Just like the dream.

I race toward him. Ram my energy hard into his. Hoping to throw him off balance long enough to allow the girl to escape.

But in the end, it’s like tossing myself into foam—the landing is soft, malleable, bears no real effect.

Still, I keep at it. My quest to save her nothing short of relentless. Aware of a newfound power surging inside me, I crash hard into his side. Only to stare in horror when the girl falls away, revealing herself to be Daire, while my brother whirls on me with a shiny pearlescent orb balanced in the jaw of the two-headed serpent that springs from his tongue.

A scream rings out. The sound so rage-filled, so primal, I’m surprised to find I’m the source.

I continue to barrel into Cade, my energy repeatedly bashing into his. Though it’s not long before I realize I’m swatting at air. Left to watch in astonishment when the entire scene pixilates before me. The shattered fragments dissipating into the ether as though they never existed.

I whirl all around, desperate to make sense of it. Until Leftfoot clamps a glowing hand on my shoulder and gestures toward the brick wall before us where a series of words scroll across it as though written by an invisible hand. Each line vanishing as soon as the next one begins. Though despite their brevity, the words remain emblazoned in my head.

It’s the prophecy.

I know it the instant I see it.

It perfectly mimics the dream.

When it’s done, when the words return to wherever they came from, Leftfoot speaks to me for the first time since this journey began. “Dace, I am truly sorry,” he says, in a voice that reveals the full measure of his sorrow. “But the prophecy is written; it cannot be undone.”

I start to respond. A long-winded protest ready to roll off my tongue, when the rattling quickens—my essence grows heavier—and the next thing I know I’ve sunk back into my skin. My limbs feeling foreign, fleshy, and stiff, I crick my neck from side to side, stretch my arms overhead. Trying to reacquaint myself with my physical form once again.