Chapter 76
I lift my heavy lids, seeing a constellation of—
Moons.
Between slow blinks and blinding bolts of pain that split through my left temple, I study every finger-smudged orb on the dark-gray ceiling, mostly drawn by someone I love.
Loved.
I squeeze my eyes shut, open them again. Almost hear Fallon’s chiming words as she points out each of her favorite moons, trying to explain their soft or vibrant colors. The ones she wished upon the most when she existed beyond this small dark cell.
My eyes sting, these welling tears too warm, too real.
This is a dream.
Always, always a dream.
The rolling weights in my skull cause my head to tip. I squint through the smeary gloom, making out the bundled shape of … someone.
I think. Maybe I’m seeing things.
A long blink sharpens my vision a little more. Reveals a slight fae tucked on her side on a torn-up pallet, facing away from me, trembling through her labored slumber. Her pale hair is puddled on the ground, filthy and matted—
Fallon.
My throat grows so thick it hurts to swallow, a whimper worming past.
She’s here. In my dream.
Alive.
I gather the energy to roll onto my side and drape my heavy arm over her body, heaving her against me. Gasp at how slight she is.
How small and cold.
She loosens, relaxing into my embrace as I draw on her familiar yet unfamiliar scent, her next breath the soft shudder of relief. Or perhaps that’s mine.
“I’m … here,” I slur, blinking so heavy it’s like stones are stuck to my lids.
Another bolt of pain strikes my brain, making it feel mulched. Despite it all, I summon the energy to maneuver our bodies so my back is to the bars. So Fallon is tucked against the wall, farthest from the door.
Safe.
She continues to rasp, battling each slow breath as she so often does when I dream we’re back … here. Rarely healthy. Rarely is she singing or smiling or making up the silly games that kept us entertained. Things she so loved to do at the start, when hope was still alive in her chest. Before—
No.
I tighten my arms with all the strength I can muster. Refuse to think of what I don’t have right now.
Instead, I accept this dream for the gift it is, nuzzling Fallon’s hair as I hum my calming tune.
Nurture every pump of her heart and her floral, buttery scent that’s not as I remember, but settles the rage itching my fingertips and turns each breath into a keepsake—slowly nursing the tension from my muscles.
The restlessness from my soul.
She’s here. So am I. And for whatever reason, I feel … peace.
Whole, beautiful peace.
If only it could last beyond this dream.
Another deep temple throb rolls my eyes into the back of my head, dragging me under.
Away.
To where a persistent parchment lark nuzzles me, seeking warmth. Only to rip down the middle the moment I cup it in my hands.
My dream shifts to a place of black, blue, and white. Of memories both warm and so very, very cold. I dream of a stabbing pain in my chest that doesn’t fade, but pales in comparison to the desperate rage burning in the very same spot.
The dream drains … until there’s nothing left.
A deathly hollow that’s bludgeoned by a roaring love. A wild force of silver light that nuzzles so deep within my soul it recasts the essence of my being, turning me into something … other. Something only hindered by the bounds of my mind, pitted by a different sort of cold.
Something—
Whole.