Page 7 of Crown of the Mist (The Ether Chronicles #1)

The rain falls softer now, but she's finally safe.

My magic trembles, drained and unsteady after what I had to do.

I wasn't even certain I could affect her realm so directly—the distance between us makes every intervention dangerous, unpredictable.

But when that man touched her, when I felt her fear spike through the mist like lightning. ..I had to try.

The effort leaves me weak, vulnerable. Even now, I can barely stand, my connection to the mist flickering like a candle in wind. But watching her climb into the mortal's truck—Rhett, she calls him—makes the sacrifice worth it.

She's so much stronger than she knows. So much more than these shadows she hides in. The mist recognized her power long before I did, drawn to her light like a moth to flame. Even now it curls around her, protective, possessive.

Soon. Soon she'll understand what she is. What we could be. The mist chose us—marked us for each other long before I knew her name.

But for now, I let my consciousness fade from her realm, my grip on the mist loosening.

The last thing I see is her hand, trembling but steady, reaching for the comfort he offers.

It sends an ache through my chest—familiar, expectant.

These mortals care for her, protect her in their limited way. For that, I'm grateful.

Rest, little flame. Your guardians will watch over you until we can be together again.