Chapter 6
The memory rips away. Like something just plunged its fist into my soul, grabbed a handful of whatever it could wedge its claws into, and tugged.
My heart pounds, mind busting against the jagged bits of everything I consumed.
That was—
I was—
Fingers clenched around the saber, I kick off the pillar of ice, powering toward the surface through a mess of silver threads that tangle around my fingers and arms, throat tight, suddenly desperate for air. Racing for the surface yet drowning beneath that pile of egg-shaped stones.
Reaching the barrier, I slam the saber up with such gusto the tip lodges deep into the ice. Hairline cracks web out from the divot as I stab, stab, stab—trying to scrub the stain of everything I just absorbed with each savage strike.
Something large and luminous shifts above, the vision of it smudged by the fissured ice.
I still, heart in my throat, time stretching. Every hair on my arms and legs lifts.
The shape swells, appearing to draw—
Closer.
Fuck.
The ice implodes with such force I’m caught in a churn of shards, silver threads, and sloshing water, my pulse a bellowing roar.
I scramble for the surface, primitively aware of the water’s rhythmic displacement. A steady thud-ump, thud-ump. Like my Other’s moving through the lake beneath me to the familiar pulse of beating wi—
I kick harder. Swim faster. Don’t dare look down as I bash past sharp bits of ice and charge for the bouldered shore, stumbling over jagged stones. Climbing so fast I get a head spin.
I don’t celebrate my freedom, part of me still caught in that cold, silent elsewhere. Still soaring through the endless black with my pulse tied to another:
A little girl with a big heart stuffed full of warmth.
A realization clambers up my ribs and perches between my shoulder blades, claws puncturing my skin and spine …
That silver Moonplume chose the blue-eyed, black-haired child because she sensed the goodness within her. Because she fiercely protected the ones she loved, rather than running.
Hiding.
A child with such strength, courage, and bravery … who would be so disappointed if she knew what a coward she became.