Winter
Voices he recognized murmured overhead, distant, distorted, and disembodied. At least, he thought he recognized the voices.
Where is everybody? Or anything?
Yes. That’s what happened.
He had to be in a magical, protective cocoon. That was the only thing that made sense to him. He merely needed to wake up his non-preternatural senses.
He needed to wake up.
Only…
It’s not safe to do so. Not yet.
The thought became a hammer, shattering any ideas of leaving his guarded sanctuary.
Another murmur overhead. A curse word followed by something about a door. Despite the muffled distortion, the voice felt familiar. Like he’d known the source for years. Called him a friend.
Winter gazed upward to the ice-blue sky as snowflakes began to fall.
He had withdrawn into a deep part of himself. Quite possibly, the core of his magic. His source.
Ages had passed since he’d accessed the full extent of his gift. He couldn’t recall exactly how long, but standing where he did now, he could feel the extensive energy around him.
Power thrummed with his heart and the flow of his blood—an electrical storm racing across his muscles, tendons, and veins. It had grown and intensified, gathering and storing over a great amount of time, building upon itself during the wait.
The forces hummed anxiously and itched to be utilized.
From the buzzing in the air around him, he collected a handful of the energy and tucked it deep inside of himself.
“Leave us. I’m going to get him back.” The voice came as a clear murmur from above.
Something inside of his chest stirred and tightened.
The echoing female voice overhead sounded like the same voice that had talked to him after he’d first found himself in this cocooned state.
She’d spoken words meant to placate him with weak reassurances and then had moved into stories.
Stories about people he’d never met and a world he’d never visit.
Because he was here, and she was…
He wasn’t rightly sure. About any of it.
Where were these people he heard, suspected he knew, yet could not fully recall? And where was his physical body? His mind had clearly taken refuge in the protective center of his magic.
He scooped another handful of the old, familiar magic and tucked it farther within himself.
“Do you hear me, Winter?” she whispered down to him. “I haven’t figured it all out yet, but I’m going to save you. I swear it’s true.”
The female. He knew the female.
His heart thundered a rapid beat.
Felt something for the female. About the female. She wasn’t human, nor was she fae.
He raised his hand to the sky—to the place where her voice whispered from above—and sent a swirl of snow flurries flying up to her.
His white dominion grew colder, and the outskirts filled with a thick, impenetrable haze. Danger existed outside of his winter cocoon. He felt that truth in his gut. And so his magic thickened the walls, keeping him safe within the swirl of cold—wind and ice and snow.
Even as everything surrounding him dropped heavier into the magical chill, the sky above glowed with a purple warmth. Like a sun wrapped in plum velum bending down to kiss his ice-encrusted vault, turning the snowflakes and snow flurries to rain.
He called the winter sleet to him and thrust it upward, enforcing the protective barrier. Safety wasn’t probable beyond the borders of his magic core, and he needed to keep his sanctuary fortified. He couldn’t step outside, and he definitely couldn’t allow the outside to sweep in.
Heat continued to flow toward him, and he sent his magic forcibly upward time and time again, continually reinforcing the walls of his safe place. He pushed and pushed, siphoning scraps of magic to save within himself for later use. A last resort, should the outside find its way in.
The more magic he pressed into the barrier, the more heat shoved down upon him, slipping through melted cracks in his cocoon. Beams of ruby haze flickered and flashed across the snow-covered ground. And where the filtered light touched, grass began to peek through the slush.
Her consistent pressure wore him down. Melting his resolve—quite literally.
“Come back to us, Winter,” her voice rambled through the air. “Don’t let it end this way.”
She slowly burned away his magical reserves. Soon, no more would remain. He couldn’t allow her to take it all. He needed to save it, keep it unto himself.
Winter swept more magic from his surroundings—slush and snow, ice and wind, hail and clouds darker than night. He tucked them all deep within himself, storing them and keeping them safe. But the more he took to protect, the less he had to use as protection.
The cracks along the ice shield surrounding his tiny sanctuary widened. Then they shattered completely. Bits and chunks of ice crystals turned to water before they hit the ground.
Heat washed over him like a broken dam, rinsing away all hints of his frozen magic.
His pulse quickened, and his heart thrummed. His entire body tingled with a warm, welcoming sensation that beckoned him back to a place of the living. A place where his physical self belonged. A place where…
Yes, he realized with a start.
A place where he wanted to be.
With his shield of ice shattered, he couldn’t recall why he had dithered or hesitated to break free of his magical haven.
Following the threads of warmth falling all around him like a ladder, he climbed out of his safe space and back into a world where life awaited.
Life filled with pain and despair. But also hope and love—wondrous emotions and adventures waiting to be savored.
He followed those heated connections all the way back to himself. His true, physical self.
He opened his eyes, slowly allowing the world to come into focus.
A small room, crowded with oak furniture.
He lay in one of the rooms above the pub. The female sat at his side and draped her upper body across his chest, her hair matted with sweat. The stunning stranger he’d found curiously intriguing. A dark sliver of night.
Raven.
He remembered her now—the one who had spoken to him, and the one with whom he’d joked and laughed and seen to her healing. The female he had safely hidden away at Camilla’s place.
“Raven.” His voice sounded rough, his tongue dry.
He raised a hand to nudge her, and his muscles ached with complaint.
“Did it work?” Her voice rumbled across his chest. Without lifting her head, she shifted to meet his gaze. Her ear pressed to the space above his heart. “Are you back? Like, really back?”
He pushed up onto his elbows, forcing Raven to shift, but not rise. “I’m awake, if that’s what you mean.”
The world morphed, tilting and adjusting.
Not so quick, he warned himself.
Raven blinked wide and sat up straight. “Thank the—”
She swayed, her face blanching.
“Steady.” He grabbed her elbow to help her balance.
Then he pulled himself upright and swung his legs over the side of the bed to better face her. Drawing her close, he cradled her in his arms, sliding a hand along the curve of her neck.
She yawned, and the action stretched through her entire body. “Thanks. I guess I’m pretty tired.”
She’d extended herself too soon after her healing. He should have prevented her from going into the tunnels.
Although he couldn’t recall how he had ended up laid out on a bed in a weakened state, whatever the reason, his gut told him Raven had rescued him.
So strong.
She was strong and beautiful and powerful…
She had accused him of having a savior complex, but this felt like something different. What, though?
He leaned in and kissed her. His lips pressed to hers in a celebration of life and accomplishments—of moments earned and savored.
Her palm flattened against his chest and pushed him back. “What are you doing?”
“Thanking you.”
She shook her head. “You don’t need to thank me. And you definitely don’t need to thank me like that.”
He hummed, then his lips pulled into a tight line, and he stared at her for a breath. Last he could recall, they had traveled beneath the citadel and explored the tunnels.
“What happened?”
The door flew open, and Aoes stepped into the room. “Holy gods. You’re better!”
His entire face brightened.
He snapped his gaze to Raven and moved to the foot of the bed. “I can’t believe you did it. Well. I guess I can, but…damn. Look at him. Even his clothes…”
Winter glanced down at his attire. His shirt, jacket, and pants were dirty and wrinkled, but he saw nothing odd about them. Maybe slightly damp and toasty, but otherwise normal. He frowned and glanced from Raven to Aoes.
“What exactly did she do?” Winter asked.
With a shiver, Raven dropped a glove in her lap, raised her hand, and stared at her fingers. The tips were blue.
Winter couldn’t stop himself. He wrapped his hand around hers and attempted to summon the chill from her skin into his own.
“You’re not going to believe this.” Aoes pressed his weight into the baseboard. “She healed you from a mostly dead state.”
Healed me? How is such a thing possible?
Winter gawked at Raven, even as his thoughts snapped to little Myla. Could Raven truly heal the afflicted?
She stared at their joined hands, showing little reaction to the conversation, but mumbled, “No. He wasn’t like that. He wasn’t like Earl.”
“Ride.” Earl shuffled into the room and pointed to Winter. “Ride. Here.”
Aoes smirked and straightened his back. “Guess your family got the message.”
Winter furrowed his brow at the share of incomplete information.
“I sent word for the healer as soon as Raven showed up with you in tow. No doubt they sent a carriage, or more, to collect you.”
Several heavy footsteps climbed the stairs and moved down the passageway, heading for his location. He glanced from the door to Raven, his chest heaving with a sigh. No doubt, the truth he had kept from her would be exposed in the next couple of minutes.
He squeezed her fingers. “I’m sorry, Raven. This isn’t how I intended you to find out.”