Page 45 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

"Anyway, something happened. All I remember was screaming and then everything went black.

When I woke up, every single person in that pit was dead.

Not an ounce of blood left in them, just gray skin hanging off of bone.

Camalia always had dabbled in witchcraft and while my father wanted me dead, she believed that I was useful to their cause.

So, she put these spells on me that makes my magic weaker whenever I'm in Yaar. "

He still wasn't looking at her. She could understand that much. Aziel didn't want her pity, nor her shock. He didn't want to see her horror. He'd probably seen it all on many different faces when they heard what happened to him—what his family made him endure. All because someone felt threatened.

An ache buried deep beneath Nymiria's ribs flared, her face twisting as she bit her cheek. Tears stung her eyes, her hand slowly moving to cover the mark on her stomach that'd been branded on her ten years ago.

Traitor.

Aziel cleared his throat, hoping to ease the intense sadness that enveloped them. "You should get some sleep. We will be going through the vines tomorrow."

She was in no position to object, but as Aziel fell silent again and his breaths turned shallow, Nymiria was left alone with her thoughts.

Dark green vines curled around her arms, slithering over her skin, twisting their way up to her neck, through her hair, and braiding themselves through the pale silver-white tresses until they formed a crown.

Nymiria watched through the silver-plated mirror in her hand, her fingers making a slow path to the crown that was now blooming with an array of white and pale pink flowers.

She brushed her fingers over the petals, feeling their silk-like texture slip between the pad of her thumb and pointer finger before her hand fell back to her side.

She saw him in the reflection of the glass, watching her as he always did. Instead of the angry features she was familiar with, he looked at her the way one might look at an altar. Or a statue.

Her gaze shifted back to the mirror.

The glow of her skin was not an abnormal sight.

It was something that frequently happened when she felt intense emotions—usually accompanied with fear.

But she wasn’t scared. She didn’t feel anything, but the earth.

Her senses were blooming with the sounds of whispers, the leaves on the trees rustling in cadences that formed words. Prayers.

She could hear cries for life, pleas for help—for children to get better from illnesses and for plants to grow.

The whispers surrounded her, the smell of moonflowers filled her nose, mixing with the faint and seductive aroma of cherry blossoms. Grass tickled at her feet, each strand stretching to reach the light that was emitting from her skin.

“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Aziel said.

Nymiria turned to him, the mirror falling to her side. The world around them finally came into view—a world where the moon was bright enough to cast a silver glow onto everything in its path, even the earth floor. Birds swirled and danced in their flights, leaves shivered in a soft breeze.

Wherever they were, it was beautiful. That had to be what he was talking about. It was what she wanted to believe, anyway. But his line of sight was not directed towards the forest.

Aziel was looking at her.

“Come here, moonflower,” Aziel smiled, extending his hand in her direction.

His real hand. Uncovered, his scars gleaned with reds, silvers, and pale pinks in the light that filtered in through the lustrous overhang of Mongolia leaves.

The pink flowers had already started to bloom, unfurling more and more the longer she watched them.

Slowly, she lifted her hand into Aziel’s, feeling the warmth of his presence slide over her skin like the caress of a summer breeze.

He walked with her through the dense forest, wisps of light flickering around the bases of the trees and lighting their path.

The woods grew denser, darker, the path twisting and turning until they reached a large labyrinth of spiraling stones.

The pedestal was the same as the one in Yaar, protruding from the center of the intricate swirl of stones. Nymiria looked at Aziel for a hint of reassurance. He smiled at her. A blinding smile that bore not a single shred of darkness or malice.

She walked the path alone, the whispers drowning out the sound of Aziel’s footsteps as he followed behind her.

Anam.

Anam.

Greia.

Life.

Anam…

Over and over again, louder and louder, did the whispers grow until they encased the landscape entirely. By the time she reached the pedestal, the whispers had turned to deafening screams.

She traced over the runes carved into the top. She knew each curve, each line, even with her eyes closed.

The feeling of him behind her forced her eyes open again, fingers hovering over the ancient runes that had nearly vanished, the elements doing their job to renew and replenish.

The mirror appeared in front of her again, the silver gleaming in the single ray of moonlight that washed over the place where she stood, catching the fractures in the glass.

There was a new familiarity she felt when she saw him this time, a settling in her bones when she took him in, all of his ethereal beauty.

As if she'd known him when they were merely flakes of sparkling dust floating around in the ether.

"Do you know how long I've been searching for you?" Aziel asked.

The mirror fell away from in front of her, her heart giving a solid thud when she saw the shimmering moonflowers sprouting along the bases of two barren trees.

Their branches were outstretched, curling around one another.

The moonflowers continued to grow, crawling up the trees and clinging to the branches until both were covered in the pale blooms.

An arch.

"What is this?" Nymiria whispered, mostly to herself.

She was drawn to the opening, her feet carrying her towards it.

But before she could reach out and touch the petals that seemed to shiver in her presence, she felt a warm hand close around her wrist. Tearing her eyes away from the archway, she turned to look at Aziel.

Her brow furrowed at the grim look on his face. "You're not ready yet."

Nymiria jerked awake, her eyes blurry with sleep and her shoulder aching from the hardness of the ground. Her heart was still fluttering from her dream, her head still whirring with the echoes of a thousand prayers.

It was normal for her dreams to be this vivid, but not for them to feel so real—like waking from them to only feel as if she'd closed the door to one room, only to open the door to another and step inside.

She shifted against her spot on the ground, tugging at the blanket—no. Jacket.

It was a jacket.

She blinked to clear her eyes, running her fingers along the stitches of the black sleeve until her sleep-addled brain allowed her to realize that it was Aziel's.

Seeing that he was currently nowhere in sight, she gripped the fabric and pulled it closer to her face, breathing in the sweet scent of cherry blossoms.

"Are you smelling my clothes?"

Her eyes jerked up to the tree to her right, flickering from the shiny black boots to his muscled form. "Are you watching me sleep?" Lips pursed, she countered him with a pointed glare.

Aziel shrugged. "I heard a noise. Turns out, it was just you dreaming. Again. Very loudly."

She waved him off, making sure to shoot him another venomous glare before she pushed herself into a seated position. "It happens every night. They're just dreams."

He looked at her as if he knew better, but there was not enough strength in her to argue with him. She was tired. And by the faint yellow glow behind Aziel's head, she assumed that it was nearly time for them to get going. The sun was finally rising.