Deceit of Spirits

Chapter 15

Waking up from a nightmare had never been so filled with relief.

"Bash!"

Abel's lilting voice arose like a forgotten song that reached its crescendo and then crashed upon Sebastian's very soul, wrapping around his lungs like the warmest of embraces. Suddenly, he could breathe again, each exhale clearing the fog of terror, each inhale solidifying the thoughts running wild in his brain—it cannot possibly be a real dragon-shifter. How preposterous! Abel will know. She dreams of such things—

Of course, Sebastian knew he had not truly been sleeping and was not actually being awakened by Abel, but his adrenaline-cramped legs carried him to her, regardless, as if on the wisps of clouds that gathered above his head. Her thread of Spirit flared a rich ocean teal that sparkled before him like a luminous path, carving in such a way that it seemed to spell out home.

Safety.

Endearment.

He had just made it past the embankment of the rocky Holalethe shoreline, colorful pebbles kicked up by his heels, and into the cooler tree line when Abel collided into him, knocking the air from his heaving chest.

"Oof!"

A gasp tore from him, a painful jerk that made little neurological sense but sent sparks of agony throughout his limbs anyways. It rocked him backwards, a thick chain that yanked at the base of his spine like an iron bond connecting him to where he had left Astrid. Sharp wafts of rosemary stung his nostrils and froze his next breath as if he had been portaled into the midst of a wild blizzard—but then Abel's arms hooked around his neck tight enough that it constricted his windpipe and, with it, any other nonsensical thoughts of snow-covered firs.

"You're here!" Abel's words fell onto his neck, soft and reassuring. "You're alive. You're alright." She grabbed him by the shoulders, fingernails scratching into his sunburned skin, but she pulled away before he could think of anything to greet her with in return. "You can't trust her, Bash! She's a liar—!"

It was difficult to focus on what Abel said when Sebastian caught his first real glimpse of her. An elven Abel. Here. Beneath the bright sun of the elvish realm of Galandreal. Her Spirit's thread, which still clung to his fingers, weaving over and under his knuckles, grew brilliantly radiant as he looked. Blinked. Looked some more. The auburn of her hair tumbled like deep, red flames down her curved shoulders, living embers of gold woven throughout various curling strands. It gave the creamy pallor of cheeks a shimmering, rouge tint, her typically tawny eyes flashing in shades of honied gold and soiled bronze as if Earth's threads lived within her very gaze.

Startled, Sebastian shook his head, vaguely aware that, though his mouth hung open, there were no words to be found.

Not from him, anyways. It hardly mattered, however. Abel filled the space between them with words enough for both of them.

"—Astrid is using you, Bash. For Authors, love acts as a curse, and she knows it to be true! It has been her purpose from the start, spurred on by her mother. Matthias said—"

Sebastian found his hand shook when he raised it between them. "Love?" His head spun violently enough that he feared he may be sick. "But I do not think I...love—"

A deafening growl pierced through their reunion, a roar from the heavens that shook the ground. Reality crashed into Sebastian. With one hand, he grabbed Abel by the wrists and tugged her backwards into the cover of the trees. With the other, he threw it outwards on instinct, up into the looming shadow darkening the sky. He reached for the fiery, smoky thread that seared into his senses.