Day inserts her body between the wounded creature and the mage. A harsh cry claws its way from her throat. She realizes the futility of the defiant act, has no effect on the outcomes of the future while on the paths. Her position here is strictly that of observer.
Someone has to do something, it may as well be her.
So there she is, blade lighting the depressive void between the pair, attempting to cut through the thin strand of magic connecting the mage and his victim.
Day never finds out if it works.
A gong vibrates through her core. Day bolts off the mattress and blinks as a blinding flash of lavender light brings tears to her eyes. Sweat beads on her forehead, over-saturated hair sticking to the clammy skin. Day's heart races. A chill shivers its way across her body and exits through two pairs of twitching wings. The world quits spinning after a long moment and the lifeline pattern on the smooth wooden walls sharpen into focus once more.
A silver glow replaces the lavender light. Somehow, she'll find a way to help the creature. He's underground somewhere, a cell perhaps? She wishes she had more clues as to his location, his light is so dim...
She has no clue how long she stands in a battle ready stance on top of tangled blankets tossed around the mattress. Minutes and hours are interchangeable, dragging on while Day struggles to regain enough control to dispel the weapon.
"Good thing I don't share a bed with someone." A sardonic smile crosses her lips. "This could get awkward fast."
The image of crystal eyes infuses itself into her imagination. Day shoves them away, surprised at the effort it requires to dismiss those cyan gems. She struggles to forget the flush of her skin and the warmth burgeoning from her core the night before as she stared into the inky darkness of her room, quite unable to sleep. What a close call! She almost let herself go. Truth is, she doesn't even think he's trying.
Man! If Fox puts any effort into his advances, she won't stand a chance.
"Argh! This is so frustrating!" It would be much easier if she hadn't watched him die. What is it about this particular man anyways? Chancen's super-hot, even though she knows he has a mate, which probably means wife here. Yet, even before this information she didn't feel the need to jump into Chancen's arms and forget the rest of the world. Same can be said about all the other men she met. Of course, most of them are working damned hard at being jerks.
So what gives?
The early morning calm doesn't offers any answers.
Outside, shadows cling to the scenery. Bits of grey sky peek through the canopy announcing the oncoming sunrise. Too early to head to Lyrissa's, too late to get back to bed. She'll have just enough time to fall back asleep before the healer arrives to wake her.
"Well, wonder if they'll object to an early morning run?"
She ran in the morning whenever she trained for a fight or simply needed to think things through. It was important for her stamina in the ring, allowing her to go harder, faster, and for longer periods of time than most of her opponents. Train hard, fight easy are words her coach lives by.
Her balcony window swings open gently. A handful of small white moths no longer than her forearm flutter their wings against the bark. What is it with moths in the morning?
Day's eyebrows rise at another unexpected surprise. Thick stems of braided vines wind around the rim of her mushroom-balcony, delicate blue flowers blooming within the tiny, dense greenery. She brushes a hand absently over the leaves of this gift. None of the other balconies have so much as an identifying twig. It'll be much easier to find her way back to this room!
YOU ARE READING
The Paths of GreythornFantasy
The dream paths, accessed by a chosen few, reveal the most likely future following any given choice. Unfortunately for the human dreamwalker Daystorm, the decisions made by the fairies of Greythorn make her long for the simpler days of sweat-induced...