Page 23 of When the Wicked Sing (The Leruna Sea #1)

Death had always felt like a distant concept to Mariana—something inevitable yet unknowable. She had never dared to imagine what might come after. Would it be silence? Light? The comforting embrace of Amphitrite, leading her somewhere beyond the waves?

This wasn’t what she’d expected: floating weightlessly through a sea of stars, their soft glow brushing against her like whispered secrets.

Millions of tiny, sparkling stars surrounded her, each pulsing with a soft, otherworldly light.

They shimmered and danced, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the void.

Unable to feel anything, her mind devoid of all thoughts, she was completely weightless in mind, body, and soul.

Then that weightlessness shifted as the stars began to blur, melting into streams of light that twisted and intertwined like ribbons in the wind. The sensation of falling, yet not falling, enveloped her.

Mariana blinked, and she was standing on a beach. One that was all too familiar. The moon hung low in the starry sky, casting a silvery glow over the sands. The horizon was a deep indigo where the sky met the sea, blending into an infinite expanse.

Waves washed over her feet, startling her as her senses all flooded back.

The water was cool against her skin, the salt air sharp in her lungs.

She was wearing a gown of flowing blue fabric that seemed to ripple like water in the breeze.

She ran her fingers over the pristine fabric, feeling its delicate texture.

“Mari?” a soft voice called from behind her as gentle as the breeze. She turned to find Celeste standing under the moonlight near her small home, which looked different than before. It looked like a quaint cottage made of driftwood and sea glass, glowing faintly in the lunar light.

Blinking past the confusion, she gazed at Celeste. Mariana couldn’t believe it was her.

“Celeste?” she murmured, her voice catching in her throat before she bolted up the beach toward her friend, her heart pounding in her chest.

Celeste opened her arms wide and embraced Mariana. The scent of lavender coated her lungs, mingling with the salty tang of the sea, and tears sprang into her eyes. “You’re here, you’re here,” she whispered over and over as Celeste softly laughed, a sound like wind chimes in a gentle breeze.

“Of course I am! Where else would I be?”

Mariana pulled back, her face dropping as she stared into her friend’s pale eyes, which now seemed to reflect the depths of the ocean, endless and ancient.

“You’re …” dead . She couldn’t bring herself to say the word out loud, as it appeared Mariana, too, may very well be dead .

“Tongue tied up, my dear? You know, I have a potion for that,” Celeste said with a wink and a glimmer in her eye.

She tugged Mariana toward the cabin, their feet leaving no prints in the sand, and a few moments later, they were sitting at her round table with steaming mugs in their hands.

The cabin’s interior was cozy, filled with the warm glow of candlelight, casting flickering shadows on the walls adorned with shells and dried herbs.

It wasn’t the same as the cabin Celeste had in Egan Village. There were hints of things Mariana remembered from before—like the table she sat at was still chipping white paint, and her bed quilt was still the same colorful weave—yet everything felt … different.

She shook her head and glanced down at the warm mug.

“I don’t understand,” Mariana whispered, watching the steam curling up from her tea turn into intricate patterns that hung in the air. The fragrant aroma of chamomile and honey filled the room.

Mariana’s eyes shot up to her friend. “Are we both …?”

“Dead?”

Mariana shuddered as the word clanged through the room. Her chest tightened with a storm of tormented emotions.

Celeste reached out and gripped Mariana’s hand, her touch warm and grounding. “No, darling. We’re not dead. We’re free .”

Mariana’s brows pulled together, and she glanced between their hands and Celeste’s sincere expression. “Free?” she asked softly. “I don’t understand. You were gone. I looked everywhere for you. The little boy on the beach, he said—”

“ The ones from across the sea took her ,” Celeste finished, mimicking the boy’s voice with a strange clarity, and then gave Mariana a small, wistful smile. “Yes, I know. But I’m here now, with you, that’s all that matters.”

Mariana stared at her, unsure what to say. She was hardly able to believe she was holding her dear friend’s hand to begin with, drinking tea at her table in the middle of the night, and the familiar yet otherworldly surroundings made her feel both comforted and disoriented.

Her grip on the mug tightened, her fingers trembling. She didn’t understand why she was here, sitting across from Celeste. She couldn’t believe this moment was real, and yet, it felt real.

“Celeste,” Mariana whispered, her voice breaking. “I—” Her words faltered as a storm of emotions churned inside her chest. “I looked everywhere for you.”

“I know,” Celeste said kindly, her pale eyes watching Mariana with infinite patience.

“I thought you were—” The word caught in her throat like jagged glass. Her lips trembled as tears sprang into her eyes. “I thought you were dead.”

Celeste smiled gently, the kind of smile that used to make everything feel okay. “Oh, my dear girl,” she said. “You don’t need to carry that burden. You don’t need to carry any of it.”

Mariana pulled her hand back, shaking her head as a sob rose unbidden in her throat.

“How can you say that? You’re gone, Celeste.

You just—disappeared. You left me. You left me when I—” She choked on the words, her voice cracking.

“When I needed you.” The moment the words spilled from her lips, she regretted them.

Celeste didn’t leave her; she had been taken from her. Taken by her own people.

Celeste’s expression softened, and for the first time, she looked sad. “Oh, Mari,” she murmured, her tone heavy with regret. “I never meant to leave you. I never would have if it were up to me.”

Mariana squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaking down her cheeks.

Her chest felt heavy, like the grief she’d kept buried was finally clawing its way to the surface.

She had tried to ignore it, push it away, distract herself with everything else.

But now, in this strange and quiet dream, there was nothing to stop it.

She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white. “It’s not fair,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “You were the only one who … who listened to me, who let me be myself. You treated me like me. And now you’re gone, and I—” She broke off, sobbing.

Celeste stood and moved around the table, pulling Mariana into her arms. Mariana clung to her like she was afraid to let go, her body trembling with the weight of everything she’d held in.

Celeste’s embrace was warm and steady, her hands running soothingly over Mariana’s back as she whispered, “Let it out, my girl. Let it all out.”

For what felt like an eternity, Mariana cried, her tears soaking into Celeste’s shoulder. She cried for the loss of her friend, for the loss of her siren self, for the loss of everything she’d ever known.

Finally, her sobs began to quiet, though her chest still ached with the rawness of it all.

Celeste pulled back just enough to cup Mariana’s face in her hands, her thumbs brushing away the tears.

“You’ve been so strong for so long,” she said.

“But even the strongest need to let themselves feel, Mariana. It’s not a weakness.

It’s what makes us mortal—or siren, or fae, or whatever else you might be. ”

Mariana let out a shaky laugh, her lips trembling. “I don’t even know what I am anymore,” she admitted.

Celeste tilted her head, her eyes sparkling faintly like the sea under moonlight. “You’re you,” she said simply. “And that’s enough.”

Mariana blinked, her tears slowing as she stared at her friend. She wanted to believe those words and cling to them, but doubt still gnawed at the edges of her mind. “I don’t feel like enough,” she whispered.

“You will,” Celeste said with a small, knowing smile. She reached out and tapped Mariana’s chest, right over her heart. “You’ve always had everything you need right here. The rest … well, that will come in time.”

Mariana frowned slightly, her mind spinning with questions. But before she could speak, the air around them began to change. The cozy glow of the cabin’s candles flickered, their light dimming as shadows began to creep across the walls.

“Wait,” Mariana said, panic rising in her chest. She clutched Celeste’s arm, her fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeve. “Don’t go. Please—don’t leave me again.”

Celeste smiled sadly, her form beginning to blur at the edges like sea foam dissolving into the tide. “I’m not leaving you, my dear. I’ll always be with you, just as I’ve always been. In the light. In the waves. In the wind. ”

Mariana shook her head, her heart aching as Celeste’s figure grew fainter. “I’m not ready,” she whispered.

Celeste’s voice was soft, echoing faintly as the dream began to fade. “You’re stronger than you think, Mari. You always have been.”

The cabin dissolved into starlight, the scent of lavender lingering in the air.

Mariana felt herself falling, weightless and untethered.

Then she detected something warm soothing her head.

The sensation was comforting, like someone was running their fingers through her hair and pouring warm water over her scalp.

She floated like that until—like the snap of someone’s fingers—she woke up.