Page 110

“No,” I began, but then mid word I realized that wasn’t true. “I mean, yes. I do. Sort of. I think I was in Aftermath.”

“You mean you dreamed about Aftermath?” Scion clarified after a long moment.

“No. I mean I think I was in Aftermath.”

I told them both what I could remember of my strange dream or vision or whatever it was. About climbing up the mountain, about screaming at the flames, and how for a moment I could swear I was those flames.

When I finished, Ambrose frowned, looking worried. “I’m not sure what that means, love. Even if I could see your future, I don’t know if I would know how to interpret that.”

Scion looked more angry than worried. “It sounds a bit like your soul tried to return to the Source and the Source spit you back out.”

I laughed, but stopped abruptly when I saw that he was serious. “That’s impossible.”

“I also would have said it was impossible to drop a baby into the Source and have it come out whole. There’s a lot of magic in the world that we don’t understand, especially in Aftermath.”

I fell silent again. For some reason, at that moment, I missed Bael.

Of course, I missed Bael all the time. It was like a low hum in the back of my brain reminding me that I was still missing something vital. Like a severed limb.

But now I missed him for his perspective and his humor. I was sure he’d have taken me seriously about Aftermath, even if it sounded absurd.

Sometimes I needed Ambrose’s pragmatism, or Scion’s strength. At the moment, I needed Bael’s flexibility.

As we rode further north,the dense canopy of trees began to thin, revealing a landscape of twisted and gnarled trunks, like a tangled web of knotted tree roots. The air grew damp and musty, reminiscent of a swamp, as the sunlight filtered through the sparse branches above. The ground beneath us became soft and squishy, the sound of our horses' hooves sinking into the muddy terrain. It was as if we were entering another world entirely, one where nature ruled with untamed chaos.

“Are we growing close?” I asked.

“Somewhat,” Scion said evasively.

“We’re still a good day’s ride away, love. We should stop and make a camp, unless we want to ride all night.”

Without speaking, we all came to the mutual decision that riding all night was not something we wanted to do.

After hours of riding through the muddy wetland, our horses were exhausted and in need of water. We finally came across a small stream with a grassy bank. We quickly dismounted and tied our horses to a nearby tree, allowing them to quench their thirst. As they drank, we set up camp on the soft grass.

I took it upon myself to make a fire, and gathered some nearby wood before putting out my hands to conjure a flame.

To my utter shock, the flame in my hand was enormous, at least twice the size as before, and it was more blue than orange, as if burning hotter.

“Look at this!” I yelled, afraid the flame might go out at any moment.

Both Ambrose and Scion came running. Ambrose drawing his sword, and Scion glaring as if he was more than ready and willing to inflict some pain on my imaginary attackers.

“What happened?” Scion demanded.

“I’m fine.” I rolled my eyes. “But look at the flames!”

They both turned to look, but it was Scion who spoke first. “Is your power increasing?”

I cast a sideways look at Ambrose. “Maybe. Have any of yours?”

Scion waved his hands around, as if shooing flies, then shrugged. “I can’t tell.”

“What were you trying to do?” I asked.

Rather than answering, he pointed toward the stream. At first, I thought the horses were gone. But then, if I squinted, I could still make out the outlines.

“That almost worked on me,” I told him. “So maybe you are stronger.”