When darkness calls, she cannot answer...
Isolated and alone, Halen Windspeare is in over her head. Sacrificing her soul to save the realms, she must now protect the water stone. But the siren hunters won't relent until she is finally annihilated. H...
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Warm morning light spread across her battered body while the chill of grief blanketed Halen's soul.
She turned away, bumping her head on the concrete stair. When she glanced up at the staircase, her breath hitched. Memories flooded her mind, never letting her forget she had left Asair and Natalie behind; how she had searched for Dax and found him by the pond; how instead of fighting, she had shoved Dax in the water, dove in after him, and headed toward the open portal.
Coward, her thoughts screamed.
And she agreed. She had the water stone; she had more power than Asair or her sister, yet she was the one who ran. Her magick saved her from the clawing ocean, not strength. But now she was paying for having depended on her sparks to bring her home. She rubbed her throbbing head. Every cell ached as if she was splitting apart from the inside out. Her eyelids grew heavy at the thought of staying awake. Already, fever pinched her skin, nausea not far behind. This was the price of casting magick.
She groaned, staring at the steps, seeming miles high, but her salvation sat upstairs in her mom's medicine cabinet. At least she hoped the coral and bone elixir was still there.
Rising, her damp clothes clung to her body; the sand crumbling off like a winter molt. Leaning against the wall for support, she lifted her foot onto the first stair. Her silver birthmark glittered in the sun beaming from the skylights. The reflected rays bounced along the walls, almost beautiful if it weren't for the gruesome reminder that she was permanently tied to the douchebag in the garage.
Her stomach roiled with the thought. Slapping her hand over her mouth, she sprinted, reaching the spare bathroom before hurling. She swiped her mouth clean with the hand towel and ran the tap, sipping the cool water from the faucet. She met her battered reflection. "Who the hell are you?" The words croaked from her throat.
Sand matted her hair, scratches lined her face, and a purple bruise formed along her jaw where Dax's head had rammed into her. Her shirt was stained not from her blood, but her sister's. She clutched the sides of the sink as the image of an arrow stuck fast in
Natalie's back haunted her thoughts. She inhaled a deep breath through her nose and out through her mouth, keeping the next wave of vomit at bay.
She crossed the hall and into her mom's bedroom. As she passed her bed, the vanilla scent of her perfume hit Halen like the death blow in a knockout fight. She gasped, choking back the tears, as she made her way to the on-suite bathroom. When she pried open the cabinet, she spotted a single vial of elixir on the shelf. Not enough coral and bone to cast much magick, but enough to stabilize her nerves until she figured out her next step.
She tilted back the vial; the sticky sweet concoction passed her lips, slipping down her throat, and her flesh warmed with sparks trailing along her arms. She peeled off her clothes and placed them in the hamper. Ripped and bloodstained, they were past cleaning, but the habit made her feel a little less out of control.
