Page 77 of The Frost Witch (The Covenants of Velora #1)

Even the second time, the feeling was horrible. All the air fled from my lungs, leaving only a painful, gasping emptiness. This time I landed mostly on my feet, though Isanara was braced underneath me, so I could hardly take full credit.

I felt Garrick at my side, though the frigid darkness and balancing on a slant made taking in the details of him more difficult.

“Where is Alize?”

Garrick scanned me from head to toe, found nothing imminently wanting, and moved on to adjusting his bow. “She passed through the gate.”

She’d relived her worst memory and been deemed worthy by Zeph, the God of Memory.

Garrick, Isanara, and I were still trapped in the Memory Gate.

And this memory was mine.

I recognized the barren street and the decrepit buildings. I’d lingered in the tavern at the end of the street for three nights. Too long.

Garrick and I watched from atop the old general store, crouching on the slanted single-story roof as I emerged from the tavern.

A different, previous version of myself, though I looked exactly the same.

My brown hair was darkened by the night, the blues and purples and browns of my clothing all muddled to black.

When I stepped into the ring of salt, a visceral cry tore from my lips—my present-day lips, not the ones of the witch frozen in the street. She could not move a muscle.

My attackers emerged from the alleyway and began their debate. Guilt swam in my stomach at the same time that power crystallized in my veins.

It was strange to watch the memory unfold from this angle, raised up above the entire scene. In Alize’s memory, we’d been closer to the action as it unfolded again and again.

Again and again. She’d been forced to relive the memory again and again, exactly as it was—until something caused it to change.

“We cannot alter the past, but we can determine how it impacts our future.” Garrick’s eyes swung to me as I repeated Tomin’s words. Whether he’d meant to or not, the acolyte had given me a clue. “I have to intervene. I have to change it. That is how we get out of the gate.”

But before I could move or decide what to change, Garrick angled his body and slid down the roof. He landed hard in the snow, the sound echoing across the street, but none of the three occupants reacted.

I turned, ready to mimic his movements.

“Let him do it,” Isanara whispered into my mind.

If they hadn’t heard Garrick’s landing, they certainly could not hear my familiar speaking into my mind. But I did as she said. Despite her age and her moodiness, she had yet to lead me astray.

Garrick reached the trio in the street just as the last spark fell on the snow, melting the ring of salt.

But instead of exploding with power, he was there to catch me.

I watched as his hands closed over my own.

I watched my eyes flicker with confusion, then recognition.

Even this memory of myself seemed to know him.

The power that had surged inside of me in that street calmed. So did the ice surging in my veins. Warmth filled me instead. I had only a second to savor it before the darkness took us once again.