Born with a damaged heart, Leanna Weston has lived a sheltered life with little chance at adventure. When she hears that Finvarra's Circus is coming to her small town, she sneaks off to witness the magic first hand, sure that this is her only chan...
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"Faeries never fall ill," Leanna read to herself aloud, her drowsy voice filling the spaces within her tent. Long hours had passed since Finvarra had gone, having instructed Minerva to guard her. It had taken some persuasion to convince Minerva to leave, but she had much sewing to finish before the coming evening and ultimately conceded. Leanna curled into her chair, having denied Minerva's invitation to join her. She felt safer here, surrounded by the canvas where Finvarra had kissed her, breathing in his faint scent of vanilla in the air.w
"Nor do they sleep," she murmured, blinking rapidly to focus her eyes on the blurred words. "Only when reaching their time to... to pass into the Otherworld will... their magic fa... fa...de—fade, leaving them to suffer from the... plaguing human conditions..."
Her lids heavy, Leanna trailed off unaware of the words just read, unable to keep from the endless black of her closed eyes.
She fell...
fell...
Nightmares hounded her instantly. Trapped in a vortex of smog, Krinard's bloodied body lying motionless on the grass whisked past first, chased by the image of Machina's coal black eyes. The trees' echoing cries and the taps of Machina's creatures underscored the spinning chaos and pulled Leanna down into their hellish depths. It was here that Machina clawed at her face, over and over, revealing a metallic skeleton with sharpened fangs. She bit into Leanna's arms, her neck, and her legs. Leanna kicked and scratched, but Machina slipped through her fingers as vapor.
Feeling her skin ripped from her bones, Leanna screamed for release from this prison of her mind. But poisonous tendrils separated from the storm and wrapped around her throat, squeezing tighter. The mouths of the other dead girls screamed for her, and with each wail, the living darkness stole at her breath. Her lungs constricted, and under the strain of this horror, her heart locked.
Outside the winds wailed and Leanna woke with a gasp. She clasped the arm rest tightly, struggling for the next breath. The violent moans of wind chased away the horrid dreams that seized her lungs, and Leanna hauled in a deep breath, free. She focused on the melancholic song of the breeze that cooled the sweat at her brow, seeking out the normal rhythm of her heart. A few deep breaths later and she found a shade of calm.
With one final moan, the winds died down. The curtains snapped with their departure.
Panting, Leanna clutched at her chest, at the crystal that was cool against her clammy skin. She straightened. Growing up, she'd never known what it was that pulled her from her dreams, but the scent of vanilla lingered stronger now, and Leanna had no doubt.
"Finvarra?" she breathed to the belonging darkness. The need in her voice made it sound weak and wanting, but oh, she didn't care. "Are you here?"
Leanna toured her gaze around the room slowly, searching out the protector of her dreams. She always felt so safe embraced by this ghostly wind and so terribly lonely at not feeling it when she woke. Surely it had been him now, and her heart yearned for those arms more than ever before.
