Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE LETTERS
Draven,
It’s already been three weeks. Where has the time gone?
I thought of what I might tell you today since I feel as though I spilled all the ink from my brain already.
I considered writing about my training today—I think you’ll be impressed with how far both my magic and combat have come.
Perhaps even a little aroused. But I don’t want to steer my letter in the wrong direction with that thought.
Instead, I’ll continue telling you about how I almost wrote about the new flowers I am studying, whose petals sparkle like living starlight, or this new drink I tried that sizzles with magic, making one’s throat tingle with a popping sensation.
I considered writing about Casimir and what I know of his plans, yet decided that would be redundant since I know nothing new from what I last shared with you and Gray.
I even thought about writing more descriptions of this place I now find myself living in (I still couldn’t tell you anything about its people.)
As I thought about what to write to you—the obvious now being stolen since we’ve spent three weeks putting a magical quill to not-so-good use yet a practical one—I realize I no longer know what to say. So, today, I decided I will write to you about my dream.
We were surrounded by lavender, collytails, silver leaves, peppermints, and bonaria.
You were holding me against your chest, and I was sewing myself up in your arms while the stars danced above our heads.
Somehow, there was a symphony playing in the wind, and it swept around us and tickled our skin as it blew through our fingertips.
The moon cast glittering light on a nearby waterfall, and everything it kissed, from the dew on the grass all the way to the watery shadows—it all shined.
You were stroking my hair, and I was humming us a song.
We were peaceful—happy, even. Though, I regret to inform you I saw no rocks flying in the sky.
Would you judge me if I told you I woke up with tears in my eyes?
Lyra