Page 63 of Claim the Light
On our first night in the veil, the aftereffects of the ash seemed temporary. It took effort to help Micah, but the symptoms disappeared. For the last five days, he seemed fine. Until suddenly, just now, he wasn’t.
But I have to acknowledge that it wasn’t as sudden as it felt. I find myself recalling each time he rubbed his shoulder and every time he pushed food away. And I know it wasn’t my cooking because Beatrix and Isaac devoured every bite.
I wanted to believe that Micah was completely healed—that I could focus entirely on training my body and developing my strength—but he isn’t.
Lifting myself upward a little to see his face, I find him peacefully asleep. Just now with the forest animals, he accepted my help and didn’t push back. He didn’t pretend he was okay when he wasn’t.
I’m grateful for that.
But it doesn’t cancel out the fact that I don’t know what’s going on with him or really how to help him.
And at the back of my mind is a seed of fear that is threatening to strip away my fragile sense of control. Just as I fear exposing the heart of my power, I also fear losing what I’ve only just found and can’t bear to be without.
Him.
I grit my teeth.
Fuck my fears.
I’m not a powerless dragon shifter anymore.
Micah and I will survive this. Together.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
The sun has set by the time Micah stirs.
I’ve remained at his side for the last two hours, sometimes standing and stretching my legs, other times sitting beside him while the forest became hushed with the approaching night.
At one point, the dragonflies swarmed over from the lake, circled around Micah, and then dove back into the water.
Since then, they’ve visited at intervals and right now, several of them are humming around my shoulders. Now that the moon is rising, their wings are even more luminescent, catching the light magic that fills the moonbeams.
At another point—a far more stressful point—the deer with the blaze on her forehead appeared at the edge of the trees. She lifted her head quietly, looking me over with soft, brown eyes while her nostrils flared. Then she turned and vanished and I could breathe again.
After that, there was no sign of any deer at all.
Now, Micah’s eyes open slowly.
Then quickly.
He sits up in a rush, his shirt gaping open where it’s ripped. “What happened?” He twists to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I lean forward to reassure him, gesturing to his chest and hand. “Your wounds healed quickly.”
His forehead creases as he looks where I’m pointing. “What wounds?”
I purse my lips at his question. His skin has healed, so it’s not like he can see the welt on his chest or the burn on his hand anymore, but it sounds like he doesn’t remember being wounded at all. “From the stag.”
“The stag…?” He tugs at the torn material, the crease in his forehead deepening. “I remember the doe in the clearing. Then the other horses—uh, deer—surrounding us and then…” He shakes his head. “It’s a blank after that.”
“Okay,” I say, keeping my voice calm as I summarize events. “Let me fill in the gaps. Your heart started to hurt. The stag attacked you. I got you out of there. You’ve been asleep since.”
He rubs his forehead. “Fuck, I don’t remember any of that.”
I’m not hugely surprised now that I reflect on how dazed he was at the time, but I’m adding this new symptom to the list of things about which future Sophia is going to worry her heart out—and then find answers to.
Now, Micah’s focus shifts to the dragonflies, following their quick movements as they dart over to him and back to me.
