I spun at the sound of a twig snapping behind me, finding only the trees waving their bent limbs at me. I reached for the stone, my bleeding, wounded hand scattered the debris and dirt, resting on the uneven surface.
Then I felt it. A deep rumble beneath my palm, a tingling pull running from my hand up my arm. Lifting onto both knees to reach better, I glided my hands over the stone as it vibrated under my touch. A low creak echoed like the opening of a door.
I wasn’t dreaming. This was real.
Turning my hands over in amazement, I stared open mouthed at my clean palm. Not clean of dirt, but rather blood. The cut was gone. Peering closer at the stones I searched for any drop of blood but there was none, just the pitted surface of the ancient monument.
How had this stayed here unnoticed? Were these the stones I remembered from my muddled dreams, the ones being delivered, replacing the ancient oaks? My gaze travelled to the wide trunked sentinels. They barely seemed alive. Their branches were withered, their leaves absent.
With one hand still vibrating on the stone, I placed the other on the ground. The golden river of energy I’d mistaken for the sun warmed my limbs, running from one outstretched hand to the other.
“What’s happening?” I whispered, my chest heaving with uncontrollable sobs. The earth wanted me. It was laughable, but I knew it to be true. Slipping off my shoes, I broke my connection with the ground to tug at my white ankle socks, discarding them on the ground. Then, using only my irrational instinct, I planted my feet back on the earth along with one hand, while my other slid back onto the stone which became increasingly familiar the more I touched it.
A shout blasted behind me and whirling from my bare footed position I turned to see if Phil had caught up with me and my mysterious stones. A girl with pale hair and a long dress pinched at the waist by a gilt belt ran past. My breathless exclamation caught in the air. I was asleep again.
Turning, I watched as she ran to an older man. His white robe swished across the floor as he stalked from a gathering of red-robed companions. “He’s dead” the fair-haired girl cried.
I watched, almost as if a movie was on slow-mo, as the man with the white robe and matching hair reacted to her words.
“Alen?”
This was insane. There was no muddled fogginess about this dream. It was touchingly real.
“When?” The red-robed companions clustered around the girl, clamouring with questions and waving their hands to the cloud-filled sky.
“Their bodies have been returned. It wasn’t the Druia; Ebrehered brought their bodies back over the border.” The older man’s face paled to the same shade as his hair and robes.
“It’s the invaders. They come for our lands, our people.” He glanced around, his bright-blue eyes ensnaring his audience. “Where is Mae?”
I crouched by the stone, but his eyes fell on me. “Mae, what are you doing there?” I looked behind me to see whom he talked to, but it was only the trees. My eyes narrowed. The trees. They’d changed, the brittle bark was replaced with a younger surface, the leaves a golden halo of bronze and rust.
“I’m not your Mae,” I said, my voice croaking. His bright gaze, filled with confusion under a knotted brow, settled on my face as I managed to pull my hands from the stones.
I needed to wake up. Now.
“Mae!”
The shout dragged my attention and I wiped at my brow. Sweat dripped into my eyelashes, stinging my eyes. Sweat, tears, it was all the same unwanted moisture.
“I’m here.” I blinked into shadowed darkness and glared at the stones. They were again covered in ivy and spiteful roses, my efforts to clear them undone.
The trees wavered and shivered newly vibrant green leaves in my direction. Hadn’t they been bare, the bark peeling and dying?
“Mae?”
I started in surprise at the male voice in the gloom. Assuming it was Jeffries out looking for me in the dark, I began to scramble up from the ground. Brushing at my legs, I remembered just as the shape loomed closer, that I’d taken my shoes and socks off.
I jumped, and my heart pounded in my throat. At first, I thought it was the shadow I’d chased out into the forest, but the tunic had been replaced by dark jeans and a navy t-shirt. Tristan Prince moved through the forest like a panther. I balled my fists, ready to fight the killer instinct I knew would rise within me at the sight of him. The gem against my skin heated until it scorched and sizzled. I grabbed it away, clutching it in my hands, expecting it to burn, but only finding it cool, and hard to the touch.
He stepped closer and my knees gave the most unaccountable shudder. “Mae, what are you doing out here? The whole school has been searching for you.”
“I’ve only been out here for a while.” It couldn’t have been long since I ran away from Phil.
His face pinched with anxiety as he stepped closer. “No.” His head shook from side to side and I watched mesmerised. My eyes wide, I could see him. Truly see him. Gorgeous, golden, and so handsome he’d make angels weep. “You’ve been gone for hours.” His words rumbled with a deep vibration and my stomach flipped. A warm sensation heated the pit of my belly.
“Wha—” surprised I was even talking to him, I was even more surprised when he interrupted me.
“It’s the strangest thing.”
“What?” My tongue dried.
He stood in the shadow, but his face was alive with emotion. His eyes swept over me from the top of my head to the soles of my bare feet. Not a single inch of my body missed his appraising evaluation.
