Children of Fallen Gods (The War of Lost Hearts Book 2) by Carissa Broadbent

Author:Carissa Broadbent [Broadbent, Carissa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2021-03-29T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Forty

Tisaanah

I dreamt of a wall of black. It was slick, like glass or wet stone, and stretched across my entire vision. There was a silhouette reflected there, one that never quite came into focus, not even when I came close enough to press my palm to its surface.

Someone was calling to me, using a name I did not remember, speaking in a language I did not understand. A ghost that remained forever out of reach.

Like the tall grass against my hands. Forward. Backward. Again.

{You asked me once what I missed. Then, I did not understand what you meant. I did not understand what it was to miss.}

The swaying of the grass began to lurch more sporadically, like the fragment of memory was degrading. The tips against my palm. Back. Again. Back. Again.

{But now I see. To miss is to mourn. And I know that I mourn. But the greatest tragedy of it is that I cannot remember why. I just know that once I was whole, and now I am a collection of missing pieces.}

The plains dissolved. I felt Reshaye’s pain, dull and aching, spread through my bones.

{Sometimes, though, I catch the edge of it, like a snag at the end of a fraying thread. I think that I remember the sun.}

The comforting heat of the sun fell over my face, sweat dotting my cheeks.

{Perhaps I once knew the smell of rain.}

As quickly as it had come, the sun was replaced by a steamy rush of rain, the damp scent of earth rising.

{Once, I may have even known the touch of another soul.}

The rain was gone. The sensation was replaced by only one other, the feeling of a hand in mine, the warmth of skin, the throb of a pulse.

{But even these things are a shadow of a shadow. Perhaps they are not my memories. Perhaps they belong to another.}

The warm touch was gone. Suddenly there was pain. A flash of white, white, white. A fragment of golden hair. A glance of mossy green.

And someone watching. Someone calling. Someone searching. And I had felt Reshaye recoil from terrible memories, but above all, this — this tenderness — is the thing that scared it most.

Why? I asked. I didn’t understand. Why do you fear the thing you want most?

{My fear is not the fear of danger.}

Then what?

{Perhaps I am too far from what I once was.} Its voice was quiet. Childlike. {Perhaps I do not wish to be found.}

I felt a breath, a name I could not understand, a hand reaching. I felt it closer than ever, so close it raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

I turned, and—

—And then I woke.

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