Duality

part twenty-two

"Concentrate a little harder," Ashton suggested as he tried to help her grow grass.

"This might be easier if I could see," Mila said, taking her frustration out on him. In the darkness she had little concept of time, and he refused to tell her how long the recovery was taking. Every time she'd woken up he'd given her a different task, trying to coax her powers into the open.

She didn't know why it mattered. Growing a tree wouldn't help her heal, nor did worrying if she could lift the moon into the sky or not.

So far she'd been able to control the moon and nothing else. Her toes wiggled against the dirt below her, seeking out any blades of grass. Once again she'd made no progress. "Are you sure I don't have your powers?" she asked.

Taking a step back, she found a patch of grass and practiced everything he'd told her: visualizing decay, sucking the power in.

"I think I'd know," he said, his tone light like he'd shared a joke with her.

Mila couldn't joke about her lack of progress. "How long do I keep trying?" she asked, wishing she could see him to better gauge how futile this was. Was he killing time until she died? "And why am I still blindfolded?"

"The sun would hurt your eyes," Ashton said. That was his typical excuse, which made no sense because Mila had dealt with the sun plenty of times before.

Thinking over his words, Mila said, "I thought you said the moon was out."

Ashton said nothing, using the blindfold against her. In a move that reminded her of Anna, Mila tilted her head, trying to listen for his breathing. She hadn't been able to sense him in some time, but it hadn't mattered because he never went far.

"There is no sun," Mila guessed at his silence. He'd lied to make her feel better.

Her fingers fumbled with the strip of cloth around her eyes, unable to make purchase for some reason. Ashton sighed like he would protest, but in the end, he didn't stop her. Thumb hooked underneath the fabric, Mila pulled it over her eyes, squinting as she prepared to be blinded.

The moonlight greeted her.

"I knew it," Mila huffed, rounding on Ashton. When he'd said she could control the moon she'd believed him because she couldn't see. To test for herself, Mila lifted her hand and lined up with the giant orb in the sky—

Skeletal fingers framed a shadow on the moon.

"Oh," Mila exhaled.

"Don't panic," Ashton whispered. He sounded so lost that Mila had to look at him, to be sure the same man that had confidently led her through futile examples of her power stood before her.

Flexing her fingers, Mila asked, "How long has it been?"

"Three days."

She appreciated that he didn't lie, but she also couldn't believe it had been that long. "You kept me blindfolded for three days?" Her concept of time was foggy, only knowing when she was awake and when she'd been asleep.

Hand resting below his lips, Ashton explained, "You lost it every time you saw your injuries."

Mila remembered when she'd woken in the hut and moved around freely until she knew how badly her legs were damaged. He was tricky, but she'd known that from the start. His hand slid down, revealing a thick beard had started to emerge in their time together.

With something to prove, Mila looked down at her legs.

Nothing looked different. She didn't have to check the backs of her arms to know the same would be true. Striving for calm, Mila said, "This is bad." Her voice cracked, betraying her true emotions. She didn't panic, though: three days was long enough to build up to this unveiling. Ashton's efforts wouldn't be in vain.