Echo Soul Seekers

forty-six

Daire

When Raven and Wind lead me to the Enchanted Spring—and it truly is enchanted again, no bloated fish, no rat-infested vines—I can’t say I’m surprised. Allowing the Richters to pummel me has left me in a pretty sore state. A quick dip in its healing waters can only help to revive me.

Still, I take a moment to glance all around, needing to make sure I’m alone, that Cade isn’t lurking in the shadows, waiting for the perfect opportunity to pounce. Finding the assurance I seek when Raven lands on my shoulder and nudges his beak to my shoulder, and Wind curls around me, prodding me toward the glistening pool.

“It’s good to have you back,” I say, watching as Raven flits toward a nearby rock. “I missed your company. It wasn’t the same without you.”

His purple eyes glimmer and dart, keeping careful watch as I strip off my clothes, kick off my boots, and place my knife within reach should I find that I need it. Then I slip into the warm bubbling spring, sinking under the water until it covers my head and goes about healing my wounds and restoring my energy, allowing me to emerge as though I’m reborn.

“We should bottle that.” I laugh, picking my way out of the water and over the bed of rocks lining the edge. My grin fading when I notice the way Wind begins to kick, ruffling Raven’s feathers as he fidgets, shifting from foot to foot as his eyes roll in their sockets.

“Shhh! He’s coming—he’s coming!” Raven croaks, imitating an unfamiliar female voice I can only assume belonged to one of Cade’s unfortunate captives. Cringing at the number of times Raven must’ve listened to their cries of pain and fear in order to nail the fearful tone so perfectly.

The sudden shaking of the earth accompanied by a spine-chilling shriek that echoes through the land, prompting me to duck into my filthy, torn clothes, grasp the athame, and follow Raven and Wind to the place where it originates. Cade’s personal epicenter just outside the spring.

“What the hell have you done?” Cade shrieks, greeting me with a gaping, fanged, snake-mouthed glare, though thankfully he’s retained his normal size.

I glance at his feet, noting how the immediate area surrounding him remains corrupted while the rest continues to heal.

“If you wanted to see me, you could’ve called or sent a text,” I tell him, my voice strong and sure. “You didn’t have to create all this drama for me.”

He lowers his clawed hands with a flourish, summoning the earth to still as the surrounding ring of fire smolders and dims, and I can only hope the Middleworld bears the same effect.

“Your sense of reasoning is beyond me.” I sneer, allowing my gaze to drag over him as my lip curls with distaste. “You’re like one of those crazy looters you see on the news. You live in Enchantment, your family practically owns Enchantment, and yet you choose to destroy it by virtually firebombing it with that fiery rain that you made. Do you have any idea how crazy that makes you?”

He swipes a hand at me, his long, razor-sharp talons veering uncomfortably close. “It’s the prophecy, Daire. I figured you’d know that. It just needed a little push to get started. Now answer my question. Where are my ancestors—my employees? What the hell have you done, Seeker?” His voice booms loudly as the snakes thrash all about. Making the transformation from his demon self to his more normal self, he whistles for his creepy coyote, who obediently trots up beside him and heels at his feet with a bloodied, mangled rabbit hanging halfway out of his snout.

“That’s someone’s spirit animal!” I gasp, reaching toward Coyote, intent on wrenching it free.

But Cade steps between us, face enraged as he shouts, “Answer my question, Seeker!” His voice pitched so high it prompts Coyote to lift his snout and howl, allowing the dead bunny to topple to the ground.

I stare at the mess of a carcass, consoling myself that it was dead on arrival; there was nothing I could’ve done to save it. Returning my attention to Cade, I say, “Those weren’t workers; those were slaves. And in case you didn’t know, slavery is illegal, so I took matters into my own hands and freed them. Oh, and as for your ancestors—I killed them. Every last one.” I pause, tapping a finger against my chin, needing to emend that last bit. “Or perhaps killed isn’t quite the right word, considering they were already dead. Fact is, you’re on your own, Cade. Your undead playmates have gone bye-bye. Forever this time. Which means that at this very moment, all those souls you stole are returning to their rightful homes. And the people you enslaved are now back in the Middleworld, where they’ll not only be healed but also protected with the kind of magick you’ll never be able to penetrate. You’ll never be able to harm them or mess with their perception again. Which, in turn, means your business is dead. You’ve no slaves, no guards, no one willing to partake in your madness.”

“You’ll pay for this.” He storms toward me, hands clenched by his sides.

“Maybe,” I say. “But more likely not.” I take a careful step backward for his every advance.

Not because he scares me—he doesn’t.

Not because I’m intimidated—I’m not.

But because I want to lure him into my territory. Noting how the grass beneath his feet dies a quick death, only to revive once again when he’s past. But now that the magick of the Enchanted Spring is restored—now that the Richters are gone, their shroud of negative energy rapidly dissipating—I’m confident there’s nothing he can do to corrupt it. And with Wind calm and no protest from Raven, I’m free to proceed.

“You have no idea what you’ve done.” He glares. His icy-blue eyes turned dark and stormy. “No idea how you’ll pay for your foolish transgressions. You’re so mundane in your thinking. So stupid and conventional. Every time I thought there just might be hope for you yet, you do something ridiculous like saving your abuela’s soul or killing my ancestors. I’m beginning to think I misjudged you, Santos. Fooled myself into thinking you were a person of substance.”

“Oh, there’s no doubt you’ve misjudged me.” At the sound of the bubbling spring just a few feet away, I slip the athame into my hand.

His rolls his eyes, takes another step closer, and says, “Really? This again? Another performance of the Wiccan Warrior Dance?”

“The last one was such a success, I figured it was worth a repeat.”

He looks at me, confused by my words and I’m all too eager to enlighten him.

“This is the same blade I used to wreak some pretty awesome devastation on your ancestors. Sent their heads rolling with very little effort. It’s over, Cade. For real. And, if you don’t believe me, take a good look around and tell me what you see.”

He stares at me for a very long time, but ultimately curiosity gets the better of him and he allows his gaze to drift. Allows himself to see what I see—the Lowerworld slowly healing, reaching toward its former beauty and glory.

All except for the space just under his feet, which leaves me to worry.

I take another step back, this one a little hurried, uncertain. And like the beast that he is, he wastes no time exploiting my moment of weakness.

In an instant, he’s on me, closing the gap between us. Standing so near, his hot breath pelts hard against my cheek, as Coyote growls and nips at my hand.

The move causing Raven to croak loudly in protest, as Wind picks up, fiercely lashing at Cade. Though it’s only a second later when I’ve regained my footing along with my magick. I arrow my fingers at Coyote’s glowing red eyes and watch as he falls into whining submission.

“Impressive,” Cade says, sidling closer, seemingly unaffected by the gale at his back. “But if you so much as go near Coyote again, I’ll kill you.”

“I’d like to see you try.” I wiggle the athame by my side, take another step back. Gazing covertly at his feet as I continue my retreat, pausing only when the ground stops changing and remains solid and green beneath him.

He stares hard at me, searching for access, attempting to siphon my energy, yank on my soul, but it no longer works. He has no idea the power I hold. No idea who he’s dealing with now. I’m finally the Seeker I was born to be.

“Got you just where I want you.” His gaze darkens on mine. “You and me at the Enchanted Spring. Just like the dream. The only thing missing is Dace.”

I rub my lips together, stilled by the eerie sensation of icy-cold fingers traipsing my spine.

He’s right.

It really is the dream come to life.

Only this time, it gets a new ending.

If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure of that.

“So it is.” I keep steady before him. “But you know what they say about dreams—there are so many ways to interpret them. Same thing with prophecies. It’s only after the dust has settled when you can pin it down, put real solid meaning to the words and pretend that’s what it meant all along.”

Cade grins. Presenting a face that, from a distance, is objectively handsome. Though an up-close look reveals eyes that are empty and dull, devoid of compassion—bearing not one single trace of basic human emotion.

“If I remember right, this is the part where you get all hot and steamy with my twin. Shall we reenact it?” His tongue darts over his lips. “Seeing as he isn’t here, I’m willing to volunteer as his stand-in. I think you’ll enjoy it. You can finally see what you’ve been missing—the difference between an amateur and a pro.”

“Sure.” I shrug, my gaze posing a direct challenge to his. “Go ahead. Let’s see what you got.” I grip the hilt tighter, inch my fingers higher.

“Ladies first.” He arcs an arm toward the spring.

Without hesitation, I leap away from the water and toward him. Enjoying Coyote’s fierce but ultimately ineffective growl, he’s still under my spell, but disappointed by Cade’s failure to even so much as flinch when I press the edge of my blade hard against his cheek. Removing a broad sheen of stubble as I slowly drag it across, taunting, “Dream on, Richter. I’ll never be that desperate.”

I yank the blade down along the curve of his jaw, jerk it all the way to the hollow of his neck. Fascinated by the vein that throbs and pulses as I ready my hand. Anticipating the rush of seeing it forever stilled when his head drops to my feet.

I jab the tip in, just enough to draw a small speck of blood. Eager to see it replaced by a solid, arcing gush, I press my lips together and push the blade harder. My gaze narrowed to this one single point on Cade’s flesh—mesmerized by the way the skin parts so easily—the blood flowing immediately. Caught between the thrill of the kill and the true horror of what I’m about to do next.

It was different with his ancestors.

The undead don’t bleed.

When the body is pulsing with life, it feels much more like murder.

I clear my mind of the thought. Replacing it with reminders of all the horrible things that he’s done … the fact that he’s not entirely human … that his soul is pure evil …

His fingers catch at my wrist, clutching hard as he pulls the knife free of his neck, leaving behind a wound that’s superficial at best. His touch surprisingly cool as he forces my hand to my side.

“Don’t toy with me, Seeker.” He shoves his face against mine, allowing his blood to trickle onto my chest as he inhales my scent slowly, deeply, as though wanting to savor it. “No one likes a tease. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t done it before. Though I promise, you will learn some new tricks.”

His fingers tug at the waistband of my jeans, determined to rid me of them. While the other hand ensures the athame stays far from his flesh.

He’s freakishly strong.

Stronger than I remember him being.

But that doesn’t stop me from curling my leg around his.

Doesn’t stop me from clutching him hard at the crook of his knee, as I drag his thigh forward, bringing it to rest between mine.

Equally sickened and spurred by his small groan of pleasure, the way he grinds his hips against me, I summon every ounce of my strength to butt my chest hard against his while I continue to tug on his leg. Watching as he slips out from under me, plummeting backward, face filled with shock and rage when his head smacks hard against the dirt.

I’m quick to pounce, not wasting a second before I plant my foot on his chest and return my blade to his neck.

“What the—” He bucks wildly, furious at finding himself beneath me. His eyes morphing from their usual icy-blue to a deep glowing red, as he fights to shake free, rid himself of my hold. Then, forfeiting that, he begins creeping backward, purposely edging toward the spring.

But I can’t let him get there.

Can’t run the risk that the water will empower him, strengthen him, in the way it did me.

I drop to my knees and grab hold of his jeans, tugging hard on his legs, jerking him the opposite way, as he continues to wrestle against me. Fighting and kicking, he snarls and bites like the beast that he is. Grinning in triumph when he swings a knee up and shoves it into my gut with such force, my body collapses in pain.

Vaguely aware of Raven’s frantic croaks—the way Wind whips all around me—I gasp and wheeze in an effort to draw some air back into my lungs. All the while trying to veer out of Cade’s reach, though it’s too late for that.

He’s already taken me by the waist.

Already locked his arms around me.

Already heaved me down until I’m clinched prone against him.

Leaving me with no other choice but to fight to break free. Fight to keep hold of the athame by swinging it wildly—stabbing at anything within reach. But Cade’s too limber. Too quick. Easily dodging the blade, until I’m left gouging at air.

And before I can stop it, he’s rolling me over until I’m trapped underneath him. His body pressed flush against mine, his face mere inches away, gazing upon me with a malevolent gleam in his eye.

His fingers inch toward the knife, as I frantically arc my arms overhead. Tendons strained beyond reason, I switch the knife from hand to hand, desperate to stay one step ahead. Still, I’m no match for him.

Cade’s taller.

His arms longer.

Leaving me with no choice but to sacrifice the knife by tossing it to a place neither of us can reach. And it’s only a second later when he clamps my hands in his fist, pinning them high above my head, leaving his free hand to explore. Pretending to misread my resistance—the way I squirm beneath him in a fight to free myself—as consent.

I shutter my eyes in revulsion. Steeling myself against the pinch of his fingers roaming my body, his hips thrusting and circling, seeking rhythm with my frantic attempts to relieve myself of his weight. A low groan building deep in his throat, as he reaches for the soft buckskin pouch that lies between my breasts.

He’s trying to strip me of my power in every conceivable way.

Trying to demoralize me by rendering me defenseless and weak.

Knowing the moment he peeks inside, the magick of the talismans will be lost.

Knowing the moment he violates me, he will have won.

I turn my head to the side, press my cheek to the dirt, as I desperately search for Raven. Relieved to find he’s still with me, perched only a few feet away. His mad squawking suddenly silenced, though his eyes glimmer in a way I’ve never seen. Their glint growing in intensity as Cade loops a finger around the strap and the pouch begins to tremble and heat.

I continue to buck hard against him, but with the way he lies astride me, his legs hooked on either side of mine, I can’t get much traction.

“I’ve always been curious just what it is you people keep in these pouches,” he says. “Guess I’m about to find out.”

He drags on the drawstring, as I continue to squirm and resist with everything I have in me. Trying to summon my magick—summon the Wind. Summon the athame back into my hand, so I can jam it into Cade’s eyes and ensure he never gets to leer at me again. But somehow, with his body covering mine, he’s blocking my magick.

That’s the only explanation for the way it suddenly fails me.

The only explanation for why the Wind slows, Raven falls into silence, and Coyote, now released of my spell, butts his snout against my forehead, emitting a low, menacing growl.

With no other options, I wet my tongue and take aim. Biting back a grin when the glob of spit lands smack between Coyote’s creepy red eyes. The act causing the distraction I’d hoped for when he yelps in outrage, and Cade momentarily loses his grip. Enough for me to free a hand and crash it down hard on his head.

But it’s only a second before he’s regrouped and pinned me again. His face enraged when he says, “Don’t mess with me, Seeker. Like it or not, you’re soon to be mine…”

His hand slips to his jeans, loosening them, urging them down past his hips. Then when he’s got them where he wants them, bunched around his knees, he reaches for the pouch once again. “First things first,” he sings, yanking roughly on the drawstring, once, twice—

The next thing I know Coyote is yelping in pain and Cade’s eyes are rolling back in his head as he’s lifted by an unseen force and hurled into the air.

I leap to my feet, looking to Raven, sure he’s somehow responsible. But then I hear my name and whirl around to find Dace standing behind me, his brother a discarded heap in the very far distance.

I rush into his arms. My relief at seeing him trumping any fears I might’ve had about his coming here. Though it may play into the prophecy, clearly the prophecy’s changed. Dace and I are together. It’s the only thing that matters.

“You were just in time! If you’d been just one second later…” My voice fades as I shudder to think what nearly became of me. I burrow into his chest, seeking the comfort and warmth of his flesh.

“There’s no reason to worry.” His lips find my forehead, my cheeks. “I’m here. I’ll always be here. There’s nothing to fear. He’ll never come near you again. I’ll make sure of it.” His whispered promise accompanied by the soothing hand that drifts down my back, before curling around and pulling me close.

I press my cheek to the small golden key at his chest, my voice thick with emotion as I say, “I saw you at the fence. I thought you’d—”

“Shhh…” He presses a finger to my lips and tilts my face toward his. “It’s not what you thought. I’d never give up on our love. Never.”

My hand finds his cheek, needing to see the words reflected in his eyes, only to notice how different he is.

He’s darker.

Harder.

His energy odd and frenetic—offering only a fraction of the usual swarm of unconditional love I’ve come to expect.

And when my eyes meet his, it’s like looking at Cade. His gaze is dark, fathomless, fails to reflect.

“Dace—what happened?” I ask, unable to stifle my panic. Watching in dismay as he quickly turns away, as though too ashamed to be seen.

“Don’t. Don’t look at me. Please. I’ll explain later. As soon as it’s over, I’ll tell you everything. Just—trust that I did what I had to. I did it for us. For you. And it’s nothing that can’t be undone. But please, I can’t bear for you to see me like this.”

He moves away, but I grasp hold of his arm and pull him back to me. “Who did this to you?” I reach for his cheek, needing to look into his eyes once again, to determine it truly is as bad as I think, only to have him jerk free.

“Daire—please!” he cries, the words spoken with untold anguish. “What you see isn’t me. I’m still in here, I swear. I just—”

I stand before him, too shaken to move.

Barely able to focus when he says, “It’s temporary. It’s what I have to do in order to save you. It’ll all be okay in the end, you’ll see.”

My eyes search his, looking for clues to what that might mean.

“I know how the prophecy ends,” he says, the words causing an ominous chill to creep over my flesh. “It’s the same as the dream, and I won’t let you die.”

I shake my head, needing him to understand it’s not what he thinks. “You’ve got it all wrong—that’s not how it ends—that’s not what it means!” But my words fall on deaf ears.

“This is it, Daire. This is how it goes down. I’ve dreamed it too many times. Seen the writing on the wall—literally. And while I can’t do anything about the sky bleeding fire—I will do whatever it takes to keep the darkness from eclipsing your light.”

“But I’m not the light—that’s not how the dream ends! You’re—”

The words interrupted by the sight of Cade sauntering toward us, casually plucking debris from his clothing and hair, with his faithful coyote trotting alongside him.

“Well, isn’t this a touching scene?” He stops just before us, grinning at Dace as though he’s the special guest he’s long been expecting. “You’ve got quite an arm there, brother—who knew?” He laughs. Cricks his neck from side to side. But aside from the dirt on his clothing, he’s no worse for wear.

Dace shoves before me, in an effort to shield me. Fingers snaking covertly into his pocket, he says, “Figured I’d find you down here, throwing a temper tantrum and sulking like the child you are. How many people need to suffer for your failure to impress Leandro?” He shakes his head. “We’re all aware of your pathetic need for his approval. Must make you feel pretty awful when he yells at you like he did.”

Dace glowers before him, as my gaze switches between them. And all it takes is the almost imperceptible flinch of Cade’s shoulders to know Dace nailed the sore spot.

Reminding me of what I once said to Paloma, when I referred to Cade as a: psychopathic demonic freak driven by a pathetic need to impress Leandro by achieving world domination.

It’s the single seed of humanity that lives deep inside him.

The mine—his presence in the Lowerworld—it’s only partly about amassing a fortune and controlling the Middleworld. At its very core, it’s a bid to wow his dad. Willing to destroy countless lives in an effort to gain his father’s approval. And, according to Dace, he’s failed on every level.

Xotichl and Paloma were right—he’s definitely human.

Though that doesn’t mean I won’t kill him.

“I stood right outside the door and listened to him verbally rip you to shreds,” Dace continues. “Heard the way you begged—your voice high-pitched and whiny when he shot you down, refused to listen. See the smile I wear?” He stands before him, finger arrowed toward a wide empty grin. “It’s nothing like the way I smiled then.” He pauses, pretending that it’s merely an afterthought when he adds, “Oh, and by the way, you so much as go near my girlfriend again—you’re dead.” His fingers slip free of his pocket, revealing the blowgun that didn’t work so well the last time. Though one look at his face tells me he has complete faith he won’t fail again. “Actually, you’re dead either way. So say good-bye, brother.”

Raven squawks.

Wind swirls at my feet.

Coyote crouches, head lowered, teeth bared.

As I take a few backward steps, drop to the ground, and summon the knife to my hand.

Unmoved by the threat on his life, Cade rushes Dace until only a whisper of space lies between them. Gaze probing with interest, he asks, “What’ve you done?”

He leans forward, attempts to grab hold of Dace’s shirt if only to get a better look. But Dace veers from his reach, lifting the blowgun to his lips, as I grasp the hilt in my hand. Confident that from this vantage point, I can nail this particular bull’s-eye.

Cade whirls on me, eyes blazing and red. “Sure you want to attempt that, Santos?”

I glance between them. Noting how aside from the hair, there’s no discernible difference between them. Dace’s eyes are as bleak and empty as his brother’s.

“Daire, leave it. I’ve got this,” Dace says, one eye closed, the other on Cade, taking aim.

And while I’ve no idea what’s happened to make him this way, for now my only goal is to stop the prophecy from claiming his life—his light. So I inhale a sharp breath and hurl the athame at the same time Dace releases the dart.

Mesmerized by the way it glints—arcing in a quick flash of silver—as it slices through the air. Ultimately overtaking the dart to lodge deep in Cade’s neck, just as I’d envisioned.

Only it’s no longer Cade.

The demon has taken his place.

He hooks a sharp talon around the handle, drags the blade free, and tosses it to the ground, where it falls to a thud at his enormous clawed feet.

The sight so astounding, so unfathomable, I’m left blinking in confusion. Unable to make sense of why Cade stands monstrous and grinning before me, the knife and dart abandoned at his feet, as Dace collapses to his knees, blood gushing from the wound his brother should bear.

Cade glances between us, his face impassive, his voice toneless as he says, “Told you we were connected. Though I guess I failed to tell you how deeply. So let me enlighten you now. In order to kill me, you need to catch me in human form. But be warned, I will not go alone. I’ll take my brother right along with me. And believe it or not, I prefer to keep him around.” He turns toward me with glowing red eyes that fix right on mine. “Oh, I may rely on Coyote to keep him in line from time to time—the wounds he inflicts on Dace bear no effect on me. Which is something you both need to consider the next time either one of you gets another homicidal urge.”

His words leave me speechless, numbed. I stare between the two of them, horrified by a truth made suddenly real.

Killing Cade means killing Dace.

It’s an incomprehensible choice I could never, ever make.

Yet I have to.

It’s what I was born to do.

Is this what Paloma meant when she warned me that a Seeker’s life requires great sacrifice?

Did she suspect all along we were doomed from the start?

Cade looms before me, his monstrous face taunting as though this is his idea of big fun. While Dace ignores the rush of blood now streaming from his neck and grabs at Cade’s ankles, his knees, trying to stop him from getting to me.

But in full demon mode, Cade wields incredible force. He won’t go down easily. He kicks Dace away, barely sparing him a backward glance as he says, “Don’t worry about him. He’s hurting, no thanks to you. But your aim’s not that good. You missed the main artery. Thing is, that’s twice you’ve tried to kill me. Leading me to believe I can no longer trust you. You’ve run your course, Seeker. You’re the end of the line. It’s been interesting, but don’t think for a moment I’ll miss you.”

Behind him, Dace leaps for the knife, willing to sacrifice himself in order to save me.

A selfless act that assures me he’s still in there.

Somewhere.

I haven’t lost him entirely.

But he’s no match for Cade.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Cade’s already snatched it.

Already coming at me in a blur of gleaming red eyes and two-headed snakes that shoot from his mouth.

Already shoving that two-sided knife straight into my chest, the blade making an awful scraping sound when it shoves past the key.

I stagger backward. My gaze swimming with the sight of his ghastly demon face bearing down on mine, as my hands fumble at the gash in my flesh. Watching in dismay when they come away drenched in red.

“Hurts, don’t it?” Cade grins. Allowing those two-headed, soul-stealing snakes to leap from his mouth, going straight for the gaping hole he’s left in my breast.

This is just like the dream. Just like the prophecy. Only I’ve managed to change the ending. Instead of Dace dying, I’ve taken his place.

I cling to the thought as I watch it unfold. Watch it as though it’s happening to somebody other than me.

My hands flopping before me, useless and weak. Wanting so badly to tell Dace that I love him—that I’m sorry to leave him like this.

But the words are soon drowned by a torrent of something metallic and bitter that clogs up my throat.

Blood.

My blood.

And it won’t stop. There’s just so damn much of it.

Raven shrieks.

Coyote yips in unbridled excitement.

Cade shouts in unrestrained victory edged with frustration.

As Dace calls after me, shouting my name over and over again, his voice hoarse, mangled. Though it’s not long before the sound begins to fade, as though it’s being filtered through too many layers to be properly heard—drifting from a place that grows increasingly distant.

My body shivers.

My breath comes in desperate, ragged spasms—and sometimes it doesn’t come at all.

If it wasn’t for these strong arms that hold me, I’d be falling—tumbling to a place from which I’d never return.

If it wasn’t for these strong arms that protect me, Cade would’ve succeeded in stealing my soul.

I want to tell Dace not to worry. Want to tell him about the golden one looking after me—the glowing hands that support me—but the words just won’t come.

Hush, coos the being as he sweeps a long golden finger over my lips.

But I haven’t spoken. I tried, but I can’t.

Hush your thoughts.

I do. For a while. But then they pipe up again.

Where are we going? Where are you taking me?

Up.

My eyes drift shut. Aware of the light still shining behind them but too tired to keep looking at things I don’t understand. Preferring to immerse myself in this warm, buoyant feeling of comfort and love that he brings.

You must be the sun! The thought rushes through me—my eyes snap open again. Trying to make out his form, but all I can see is a radiant blur of gold. I told Dace he was wrong, said there is no sun in the Lowerworld. It’s just some fable Leftfoot told him when he was a kid. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?

Do I look like the sun?

I squint, straining to see that which has so far remained hidden. Gasping in delight when the glow begins to fade just enough to allow the features to sharpen and a face to take shape.

The skin is fair, as though carved from beams of light. The hair so blond and pale, it’s almost as white as the skin. Though the eyes stand in sharp contrast, the irises are an unusual yet beautiful shade of lavender that gaze down at me.

And before I can respond, I feel it.

The long slender fingers of death curling around me.

Heralded by the soft whir and hum of my life force quickly draining.

The corporeal flesh and blood part of me swiftly subsiding. Surrendering. Allowing the soul to take over. To carry me ever higher—soar as high as I dare.

The sensation similar to how I felt when I was drowning at the falls. The glowing person similar as well. The same glowing person I once accused of haunting me back in that Moroccan square.

But now I know better.

So you remember? He tightens his grip when I nod that I do.

Only this time is different.

This is the prophecy come true.

The other side of midnight’s hour strikes a herald thrice rung

Seer, Shadow, Sun—together they come

Sixteen winters hence—the light shall be eclipsed

Leaving darkness to ascend beneath a sky bleeding fire

Only instead of the light being eclipsed, it was me. But at least Dace is safe.

Right?

Right?

You ask too many questions. You must rest. We’ll be there soon.

I close my eyes again, using my last burst of strength for one final request: Can you please make it snow? Will you do that for them?

Don’t have to, he tells me. You’ve already seen to it.

My lips curl at the sides, my cheeks fall wet with tears, as I fumble for the blood-covered key at my chest and fold my fingers around it. At least I’ll leave them with that …

My focus narrowing to a point so tiny—no bigger than a molecule. Surprised to find that the molecule is me—and that I’m connected to everything.

A cry of anguish sounds in the distance, though I’m sure the cry is not meant for me.

Why would it be?

I’m safe.

Loved.

Surrounded by light as warm and glowing as a kiss.

My heart flutters.

My lungs bubble with breath.

And the next thing I know, I’m crashing through a glorious silken spun web—bursting into a world of bright golden light.

season of miracles