“Hello, Myla.”
Verus is standing behind me right now. Hells freaking bells. Bit by bit, I swing about to see her hovering above our muddy lawn, a soft glow surrounding her long linen robes and white wings.
I say the first thing that comes into my head. “Hey. I’m Myla.”
Her almond-shaped eyes flare blue. “I know who you are. I’ve wanted to talk to you for some time. Your mother and I just agreed that I would.”
She’s standing right there. Verus. Holding all the answers I seek. Every nerve ending in my body goes on alert. This is it. “You have to tell me.” My mouth opens, searching for the words.
She raises her arm. “No, you have to sleep.” She gently taps the center of my forehead with her pointer finger. Instantly, the word turns to darkness.
***
After that, I dream of white fire.
In my vision, I stand in the Gray Sea of Purgatory, a stretch of charcoal-colored desert that ends in a wall of black stone. Silvery sand dunes ripple and swell around me. Overhead, the sky rolls with storm clouds; silent cracks of yellow lightning strike the horizon. A bitter wind whips through my long brown hair, stinging my cheeks. The scent of sulphur sears my lungs.
Without knowing why, I fall onto my knees and set my palms against the gray sand. A line of white fire erupts on the grains between my hands and then spreads into a giant circle. I stand again, watching the flames crackle by my toes. There is warmth from the fire, but no pain.
Inside the circle of fire, one spot in the sand starts to bubble and churn. A figure rises from that point: a tall woman with great white wings arched behind her shoulders. Her eyes are an exotic almond shape; her hair falls straight and black past her shoulders. All the breath leaves my body.
It’s Verus.
She rises until she hovers above the sands. The wind whips her long white robes and straight black hair. Her blue eyes glow softly, two pale points of turquoise in a gray desert landscape. Her eyes glow brighter, turning into two sharp points of searing blue light. I wince, but can’t turn away. I want to run, but my body won’t budge.
Verus slowly raises her arms, her wings expanding with the movement. The sound of her voice sets the Gray Sea rumbling.
“It is time you knew the identity of your father. I will send you visions of the past.”
I want to say ‘yes’ or ‘thank you,’ but the words won’t come. I guess my agreement to this plan isn’t necessary.
Suddenly, the circle of flame swells, transforming into a wall of white fire that towers over my head. Waves of heat sear my cheeks; my body drips with sweat. I want to run, move, duck, but all I can do is stand perfectly still. The fire crackles brighter; the flames grow larger.
Within seconds, fire surrounds my entire body. That last thing I remember is being consumed by white flame as the world dissolves into darkness.
I open my eyes, waking up not in the backyard but in my own bed. It’s early morning. My orange gown is gone and I wear standard-issue sweats and a tee. I re-fluff my pillow under my head and stare out of my window, trying to process everything that happened. The sky is calm and gray, unlike the rolling thunderheads in my dream. Verus’s words echo through my brain: ‘It is time you knew the identity of your father. I will send you visions of the past.’
My tail grips the edge of my threadbare covers. My body burns with righteous wrath. Enough is enough; I want me some answers now. Whipping off the covers, I race into the kitchen.
I find Mom at the kitchen table, hand-sewing the hem of a robe. She doesn’t look up as I enter. “Good morning, my little Myla-la. How’d you sleep?”
I freeze in place. Chilly realization washes over me, cooling my wrath. These random, annoying morning interrogations may not be so random and annoying. “That question.” I set my hands against my rib cage, feeling the cool prickle of gooseflesh under my fingertips. “Is that your way of asking me if an angel has visited me in my dreams?”
Mom looks up from her sewing, her brown eyes glistening with tears. “Yes.” Her voice cracks. “Did one visit you last night?” Desperation hangs about her like a dark cloud. “Please, say yes.”
At her words, all my frustration and anger melts away. This may be as hard for her as it is for me. “Yeah.” I plunk down into the chair across from her.
Mom pulls her thread taut. “Was it Verus?”
“Yes.”
“I spoke to her last night. We knew each other before the war.”
“When you were doing what exactly?” Forcing a smile, I motion my hand in small circles, encouraging her to finish the thought.