I hear my sharp intake of breath when my fingertips collide with his. It feels like I just dunked my head in a bucket of ice cold water--piercing, cold, and suffocating.
"Breathe, Kiera. I need you to work with me here," the strange man soothes me with a lilting sway to his tone.
My mind twists and turns, digging deeper and deeper into my conscious. I get the feeling that we're searching for something. Something that does not wish to be found, which makes things extremely difficult and stressful on both our minds.
I feel my forehead scrunch up and his fingers tense and grip my own in concentration. The real world melts into the background and I am thrust into the distorted darkness of my mind. It becomes my reality, if only for a few minutes.
A bright light swallows my being and I find myself floating on air, back and forth, defying gravity. The clouds pass overhead at a glacial pace. The tree leaves flicker in and out of my sight. The swing that holds me is soaring impossibly high and my heart leaps into my mouth, a result of the adrenaline rush to my brain. The wind whips my hair into my eyes, nose, and mouth, but I pay it no attention. The clouds, the leaves, that's what matters. And that shining, concentrated, blood red gemstone lodged in the tree branch.
I release my iron grip on the swing chains on the count of three and leap towards the gem. Mine, I think, all mine. My outstretched hands encompass the gleaming jewel--and then I'm yanked back into the fire-lit room.
Sweat drips down my back and my breath comes in short, quick gasps. I glance wildly around the room, looking for something to get a grasp on. My eyes find the rude boy from the hatching room. I hone in on his eyes, such an unusual, pure emerald green. As if two gems had been plucked and forged to fit his eyes.
My breathing slows and I gradually gain control of my limbs again. Yanking my hands from the ageless man's, I stumble back, not quite able to maintain my balance. I hit the ground with a thump and steady myself, trying to reason with my confused state of mind.
The man in front of me is gripping his head, eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.
"Amethyst," he mutters. "Blood red amethyst."
Excuse me?
His eyes open and find mine, prying. I find his stare an annoying invasion of my mind.
"How interesting."
"Breathe, Kiera. I need you to work with me here," the strange man soothes me with a lilting sway to his tone.
My mind twists and turns, digging deeper and deeper into my conscious. I get the feeling that we're searching for something. Something that does not wish to be found, which makes things extremely difficult and stressful on both our minds.
I feel my forehead scrunch up and his fingers tense and grip my own in concentration. The real world melts into the background and I am thrust into the distorted darkness of my mind. It becomes my reality, if only for a few minutes.
A bright light swallows my being and I find myself floating on air, back and forth, defying gravity. The clouds pass overhead at a glacial pace. The tree leaves flicker in and out of my sight. The swing that holds me is soaring impossibly high and my heart leaps into my mouth, a result of the adrenaline rush to my brain. The wind whips my hair into my eyes, nose, and mouth, but I pay it no attention. The clouds, the leaves, that's what matters. And that shining, concentrated, blood red gemstone lodged in the tree branch.
I release my iron grip on the swing chains on the count of three and leap towards the gem. Mine, I think, all mine. My outstretched hands encompass the gleaming jewel--and then I'm yanked back into the fire-lit room.
Sweat drips down my back and my breath comes in short, quick gasps. I glance wildly around the room, looking for something to get a grasp on. My eyes find the rude boy from the hatching room. I hone in on his eyes, such an unusual, pure emerald green. As if two gems had been plucked and forged to fit his eyes.
My breathing slows and I gradually gain control of my limbs again. Yanking my hands from the ageless man's, I stumble back, not quite able to maintain my balance. I hit the ground with a thump and steady myself, trying to reason with my confused state of mind.
The man in front of me is gripping his head, eyebrows knitted together in deep thought.
"Amethyst," he mutters. "Blood red amethyst."
Excuse me?
His eyes open and find mine, prying. I find his stare an annoying invasion of my mind.
"How interesting."
