I push up onto my elbows, and then onto my knees. Balanced on al fours, I spit onto the ground, scoop a finger around the inside of my mouth, and rid it of rocks and debris along with a strange medal ion that pops out and dangles before me—hanging from a brown leather cord I wear at my neck.
I lean back on my heels, pinching the piece between my forefinger and thumb as I peer at a smal silver circle of a snake swal owing its own tail. Thinking it curious, more than a little interesting, but having no idea where it came from.
No idea why I find myself wearing it.
No idea what it could possibly mean.
I fal back in exhaustion, close my eyes against the sun. At first enjoying the feel of it, the way it dries my clothes and warms my skin, but it’s not long before the pleasure’s diminished by rays so intense they leave me sweaty and breathless and suddenly overcome with a deep parching thirst that has me scrambling back toward the river, hoping to drink, only to find the river is gone. Replaced by a landscape of sand, a multitude of cacti, and two blazing suns overhead emitting dual sets of harsh, unforgiving, searing hot rays.
My skin begins to blister and burn as my lips crack and bleed, and with no shelter to be found, and too weakened by my thirst to go searching for one, I’m left with no choice but to curl my body into a bal . Bowing my head until my chin is tucked tightly to my knees, my hair hanging down before me, hoping it wil shield me, only to end up sacrificing the back of my neck in order to spare my face.
Think. I squinch my eyes tightly, try to center myself, try to concentrate.
Think, I scold. Remember.
But the heat’s so intense it’s impossible to focus on anything but my scalding skin and unquenched raging thirst.
I yank my sleeves down, down past my wrists and over my hands, al the way down to my fingertips. Trying not to cry out when the cotton rubs against the blisters, splitting them open and al owing the juice from the wounds to sizzle right there on my flesh. Working past the pain, I shove them deep into my pockets, attempting to make myself smal er, less of a target, trying to hide from the heat, but it’s no use. With dueling suns, one at my front, one at my back, there is no escaping their wrath.
My fingers squirm deep, and then deeper stil . Ultimately coming across something slick and hard with rough edges—a stone of some kind.
A stone I cannot remember.
I work my way along the sides, along the cool smooth surface, knowing I need to think, to concentrate, to remember … something …
but having no idea what that something might be.
I turn the stone over. Explore each side, again and again, until a flicker of light plays on the underside of my crusted, shuttered lids. A flash of color, a myriad of varying hues, creeping into my vision—my inner vision—accompanied by a string of words meant to prod me, nudge me, insistently swirling through me, demanding my notice—though I’ve no idea what they mean.
Words that continue to loop and repeat, playing over and over, each and every syl able stressed with greatest urgency, until it sounds something like:
Dark—like his eyes.
Red—like the blood that flowed from me.
Blue—like the river, like the stone in my pocket.
A stone I must see.
I work it up past my hip, slide it across my bel y and over to where I can see it. Marveling at how it’s managed to stay cool despite the raging inferno around me, daring to slit one eye open, despite my lashes singeing, my skin scalding, and my retina searing, I peer upon it, twirling that bril iant blue-green crystal around in my fingers, awed by the sight of it, until I notice something even more wondrous—the energy that radiates from my skin like a halo of the brightest, most radiant, golden-flecked purple.
The color reminding me of the one I felt earlier. The one that thrummed right through my body, back when I was in Summerland, just after I’d inadvertently traded Fleur’s experience for mine. That colorful feeling convincing me there was more to Damen’s and my story.
That we’d both lived a life we’d yet to acknowledge.
And suddenly I know what it means—know what it is.
That bril iantly shimmering shade that I see is the color of my soul.
My immortal soul.
It’s what my aura would look like if I had one.
The truth descending upon me so hard and fast it leaves no room for doubt in my mind.
I can’t die here.
Can’t die anywhere.