[UPDATES ONCE A WEEK]
A young girl must rely on her estranged father to help her return an Orisha's heart, but as she taps into its power, she finds herself drawn to its dangerous magic.
***
Sparrow Winslow discovers an old picture of her late moth...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I WALLOW in complete darkness for what feels like an eternity. Even Alec grows tired of laughing at me and fades away into his own oblivion.
Being here doesn't make sense. One moment I was present in the physical world and the next I'm trapped in all black. Maybe I'm inside Alec's mind. Or maybe it's a nightmare.
The longer I stay here, the more depressed I become. It's like this place is the antithesis to what Caleb brings. Where his eyes grant peace and warmth, this place only offers despair. And the inescapable sorrow drowns me in wave after wave.
I replay Booker's excruciating yelp. And the way Caleb weakened when they broke his staff. What's going to happen to them?
Maybe a unit of Guardians can intervene to save Caleb, but Book? He should've run for the hills.
None of this would be happening if I hadn't gone to that concert. Or if I hadn't announced myself like an idiot full of daddy issues to a room of supernatural leaders. Or—better—if my mother hadn't made me at all.
The worst part is that I can't do a thing about it. Oshun doesn't want me accessing the heart's power because she's probably afraid I'll end up just as bad as my mother.
Guilt stabs me in all the right places, and try as I might, I can't wrestle the tears back anymore. We are doomed.
I cry. But it's more of a hideous sob with borderline hysteria. I'm sure Alec is devouring every moment of it from the stage wing.
Another wave of sadness hits. And another.
God, make it stop!
I curl into the fetal position. With another wave gone, I welcome the numbness. There is nothing I can do. It's over.
I close my eyes, wishing to go back in time. To fix everything. But then an invisible force starts to pull at my legs. I get swept up from darkness and pulled into light.
The quick sensation has me breathing hard on my feet, my fingers trembling at my sides. I desperately try to anchor myself, taking in the brightened view.
In the greatest of cautions, I slowly run my eyes over the grassy knoll before me. Nearby, a fresh river pulsates blue and clear, just like from my dreams. Out of instinct, I walk over to it and dip my finger into the water. It cools my entire body, erasing the noise from the darkness. Those stabs of guilt, of fear, of self-hatred slowly melt away.
Then, I spot her. Oshun. She's across the river in her chair, sewing something onto a throw pillow. I take a step back in alarm.
She rises and sets her needle down. Her crystal-white eyes smile as she steps into the river. Like Jesus, Oshun calmly walks on water to me. At least this time she isn't laughing.
I ground myself, determined to communicate with her. "Did you rescue me?"
She arrives on the grass, the hem of her white robe dry.
