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She froze, already dreading whatever he was about to say. “Yes?”
“I hope I get to meet your Brand someday, but if the worst should happen—”
“Don’t.”
“—save yourself, not me. I find that I detest the idea of a world without you in it. Goodnight.”
Not fucking happening.
Not in a million years.
“Funny,” she murmured over her shoulder, unable to look at him and risk finding black where a kaleidoscope of hazel was supposed to be. She refused to endure any more blows to her already mangled heart. “I feel the same about you. Goodnight, Brand.”
For him, perhaps.
Lunara could sleep when she was dead. For now, she had work to do.
Otherwise, they were all doomed.
Lunara crawled backwards out of bed, leaving her sleeping likeness behind. She froze when Fern twitched, waiting, ready to dive back into herself if need be. One minute, two…
When Fern didn’t move again, she made her escape. Through a different series of experiments, Lunara discovered that her friend didn’t sense her misting in and out nearby. Still, she wasn’t stupid enough to do it when they were literally cuddled up against one another.
Lunara leapt through the ether and into the crossroad between the chasms.
This was it. It had to be. They were out of time.
Too bad you haven’t slept more than a couple of hours in days and are starting to lose feeling on the bottoms of your feet.
Oh well. Fuck it. What did it matter when she was this close?
She understood the way the shadows condensed, how they grouped and gathered. The way they fed on her power when she used too little, and how they cringed back when she pummeled them with more.
That was the part most similar to the beast. To Night.
Parasitic, shite-eating bastard.
Lunara summoned Axanderus, threw her shield out, waded through the gloom of the Woodmaia Chasm, secured a Forgotten, and brought them back to her customary spot. For the hundredth time, she set the owl to circling and built the cage over a thrashing form, offered her apologies and asked for understanding, and prayed to the Sisters for this to be the one that changed everything.
This Forgotten was probably halfway through their transformation, a spring in their flesh but still unrecognizable from what they’d once been. And important distinction. The more monstrous they appeared, the easier it was to disconnect herself from the reality of what she was doing. Even then, Lunara was on a razor’s edge. One step closer to losing her mind every time she was forced to offer them that final, horrible mercy.
Stars above, she was sick unto death of the killing.
Freeing Illamiata, Lunara dove in, gentle and healing. She was just chasing after the shadows when the first notes of a giggle preceded a mild pressure in her skull.
Are you actually fucking serious, Endellion? Now?
Her breathy, singsong voice floated in. “Now is different for us, Moth. And now is when it matters.”
She knew it. Stars fucking save her, but Lunara knew tonight was different. Perhaps that shift hadn’t quite finished after all.
If we ever meet face-to-face, the first thing I’m doing is kicking you in the shins.
“It’s really not.” Another laugh. “But that’s for me to know and you to find out.”
Ah ha. They would be meeting someday.
“Shhh. I cannot say—”
