In the Heavens

Chapter Fifty-Eight

"He tried to kill you," Hyacinth said firmly, his eyes locking onto hers. "And had staff not intervened, he would've succeeded."

Hyacinth's words danced in her mind like a tantalizing thought that she couldn't quite shake. That couldn't be true— not after everything that they'd been through together. 

And yet, the hazy vision of Lucian's blast striking her square in her chest remained implanted in her mind like a horrifying memory.

Crumbling to the ground, a powerful wave of starlight burst from Isadora's chest, sending objects crashing to the ground. "No," she sobbed, tears falling from her face as a searing pain spread throughout her body. 

Panic, sadness, and above all, fear, seized hold of Isadora, and she found herself digging her fingers into her forearms to keep herself grounded. Her emotions were quickly replaced by rage— pure, unbridled rage. 

With her vision blurred, Isadora reached for the white and gold vase that lay on the coffee table, a gift from Lucian, and hurled it at the wall, shattering on impact and sending huge shards of glass flying around the room. 

 A painting of a field of lilacs and morning glories that'd been gifted to her by Lucian during her two-week recovery and bedrest had been tossed to the ground, the wooden frame surrounding the canvas splintering into tiny pieces. 

New books were ripped apart by her bare hands. 

"Isadora, maybe you should—" Echo began, only to shriek and dive out of the way as an object came flying towards her.

A cashmere sweater had been burned by starlight.

New leggings were cut up and tossed aside. 

A delicately painted music box had been picked up in her hands and smashed, a discordant, ear-splitting set of notes coming out in a cacophony before winding down. But when she noticed a small piece of paper fall from behind the glass mirror behind the ballet dancer, she blasted it with a small burst of light. 

By the time she was finished, the living room was in complete disarray. With blankets carelessly strewn about the room, pillows scattered across the floor, and countless of gifts from Lucian absolutely demolished, it was a mess. 

Nearly tripping over the remains of her destruction, Isadora stumbled down the hallway and into her bedroom, where the warm smell of vanilla lingered in the air. Sitting in the middle of her bed was a small box, carefully wrapped in purple and blue paper, accompanied by a note. 

Isadora sneered at the gift as she pushed it aside, not even blinking when it hit the ground. Exhaustion soon washed over her, and Isadora found herself crashing face-first into her duvet, tears, mud, and small drops of blood staining the fabric. 

However, the soft sound of cooing and joyous chirping just barely managed to catch her attention. Curiosity piqued; Isadora pushed herself up from her bed and slowly inched towards the incubator, where the stones glowed a soft shade of red, the runes completely extinguished. 

Sitting in the middle of the incubator was a baby dragon no bigger that the palm of her hand. Its pristine, pearly-white scales shimmered softly, catching the glow of the midday sun. Its small scales had an almost translucent quality, reflecting hues of silver and gold. 

Delicate, feathered wings tipped with gold stretched out towards the edges of the incubators. Though small, they radiated a subtle aura, faintly glowing constellations painting its membranes. 

Its eye, large and luminous, gleamed with a radiant light. The irises carried a swirl of silver and pale blue, resembling a cloudy nebula. Tiny ivory horns, barely sprouting from its skin, curved gently upwards. Its long, slender tail ended in a tuft of soft, golden fur that glowed faintly, leaving trails of light as it circled the incubator.