"My, my, love. Are you sure you want to leave such a cruel world behind?"
Far beyond the horizon, clouds gathered-throbbing, budding, menacing. Time was slipping through their fingers. "What can be worse than this?"
A slow, wicked smile split his fa...
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"Prague?" "Prague." "Why is she in Prague?" Stravas lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "That isn't the question we should be asking right now. Why has it taken four weeks to locate her? Four weeks of silence, of nothing. Like she never even existed. There's a reason we haven't been able to find her." Zamar's nostrils flared. He turned and began making his way out of the living room, he was half way through the door when a hard wall of magic stopped him dead in his tracks. Zafia had her hand out, pale blue light rolling in her palm. "Where the hell are you going?" his sister spat.
"To get my wife."
"Well she doesn't know she's your wife now does she, so stop being a hot head." Zamar felt the last throes of his anger ripple through him. Anger has been his friend for centuries, since Freyja's last death, since she never came back. Anger. Red and hot and combustible. Freyja has always been his calm, if he could put a colour to her, she would be blue. Not blue as in sad but blue as in still...like a sleeping sea. Strong enough to drown him but gentle enough that he could float and feel safe. Blue like the sky, depthless and bright. Falling into a memory, a memory of her, Zamar loosened a breath. Shoulders sagging.
Zafia dropped the wall and said gently, "I know you miss her. And I know we're running out of time. But she hasn't even awoken yet. She doesn't know you're her husband, she doesn't know who she is, she probably doesn't even know of the covens. If you try to bring her here, she won't come willingly and if you bring her by force, celestials save us, she might decimate the place out of panic. You have to be smart about this, brother."
"Zafia is right," Stravas began, drawing Zamar's head towards her. "I spoke to the high elders of the covens, it's too risky bringing her back here and expecting her to be as she was. She needs to awaken by herself, we cannot force her hand."
Zamar shook his head. "So we just leave her out there? And lose her again?" the idea of losing her again sent wracking cold waves over Zamar's entire body.
"No," Stravas considered. "No, she has to choose to come here. Zamar can go to Prague, speak with her. See how much she knows."
Could he even face her? Could he face her and know that he would be a complete stranger to her? Could he face her and know that the moment he sees her face, he will be overcome by memories and emotion, and she will be overcome with nothing? He could, for her, he would.
For her, he'd break the world.
~
Live. The word rattled through her like a new found song. Beating against her heart again and again. Live. Rose splayed her arms, extending them as a rush of cold wind whipped her hair and body. As the blur of colours and mixture of music and voices spun a web around her. Live. Rose felt cold fingers entwine with hers, and when she turned, she found him beside her with a matching smile. Dean—his hair ruined by wind, his eyes half closed and smile wider than hers. He howled as the ride tossed them high in the hair. His howl was echoed by Rose's own roar of excitement and nerves. Live. She would live...if he would hold her hand while she did it.
