The world didn't exactly turn upside down; it seemed to sparkle. Niah stood motionless, her eyes wide as the memory of Rain's gaze from her vision resonated deeply within her. This wasn't just a mere flashback; it felt as though the memory had been etched into her very being. A sense of understanding thrummed beneath her touch.
She raised her hand, brushing her fingers through the air unconsciously, and felt the temperature shift. It was cool at first, then became warm. The sunlight streaming through the trees outside the place Zaire had brought her flickered as if her breath had stirred it. The wind picked up, playfully tangling with the ends of her hair as if it recognized her.
Zaire approached cautiously, his gaze fixed on her. "You feel it, don't you?" he asked.
She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. At first, the aura around her was faint. It glowed softly with a golden hue, trembling as though testing its strength. But as she concentrated, it grew clearer, a halo of ancient light pulsing in time with her heartbeat.
Then she heard a sound. It wasn't words, exactly, more like whispers that were gentle and distant, like leaves brushing against silk. They curled into her ears, voices not entirely real, not quite a dream. The barrier between worlds thinned, and she could feel its breath.
Niah took a step back, stumbling slightly. The ground beneath her remained firm, yet it responded; the grass leaned toward her toes, and the air filled with the scent of something long forgotten.
"I don't understand," she whispered.
Zaire's voice was soft, almost reverent. "You don't need to understand right now. Your soul does, and that's enough."
She turned to him, her eyes brimming with awe and wonder, tinged with fear. Her irises shimmered, not quite gold, not quite blue. They were touched by the veil.
"I feel everything," she said. "The wind, the light, the pull, everything."
Zaire moved closer, not touching her, but near enough for her to sense his steadiness. "This is what you were born for, Esme."
Her fingers twitched, and suddenly, a nearby flower bloomed out of season.
Niah gasped, then laughed, breathless and shaken. "I just made a flower grow in autumn."
Zaire's smile was soft and proud. "You just remembered who you are."
The flower quivered in Niah's palm, its bloom impossibly vivid against the fading season. The petals shimmered faintly, as if they too remembered her.
She stared at it, her lips slightly parted. "This can't be real."
Zaire tilted his head, his expression unreadable, but his voice gentle. "It is. And it's only the beginning."
The breeze swirled around her again, carrying a sound like hidden bells, like laughter from the past or a warning from the future. It made her skin prickle.
Niah took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to find her center. But centering didn't work anymore. Everything inside her was shifting, like tectonic plates rearranging, like a storm forming in slow motion across every part of her soul. Her thoughts raced; her heart thudded too fast. She felt as if she might fly apart.
Zaire noticed this. He stepped forward and gently placed his hand over hers, where the flower bloomed. "It's overwhelming, I know," he said quietly. "But remember, you're not alone."
Her eyes opened, meeting his. It wasn't romantic, it was something deeper, rooted in something ancient. Trust forged from ash and flame.
"I know you must be tired of hearing this, but I don't know how to be her... I really don't," she whispered.
Zaire's smile was crooked, both sad and proud. "I won't ever get tired of it, Esme. That's the beauty of it. You don't have to become her. You already are her. You just need to remember how to let her breathe."
She looked down at her hands, now trembling slightly. The air responded to her again, rippling like disturbed water, subtle but undeniable.
Zaire released her hand, giving her space. "Let's go," he said after a pause. "You've seen enough for today. This kind of power," he gave her a measured look, "needs time to settle."
They walked back along the trail in silence, broken only by the rustling of the trees above them. The birds had grown quiet, almost respectful.
As they neared the clearing, Dusken bounded through the trees, his tail wagging wildly. But as he approached Niah, he stopped. He sniffed the air around her—once, twice, and then whimpered softly and lowered his head to her feet, like a knight before his queen.
Zaire looked mildly offended. "Traitor."
Niah blinked, startled. "What just happened?"
"I think," Zaire said dryly, "Dusken's decided who's really in charge."
Dusken barked once, perhaps in agreement, then sat beside her, resting his head on her thigh. She laughed, surprised, and reached out to ruffle his fur. As her fingers touched his coat, a faint shimmer rippled through the space again. Even Dusken stilled.
Zaire stared at them both, muttering under his breath, "This is how it begins. First, they love you. Then they ignore me entirely."
Hearing this, Niah smiled, and the tension in her chest eased. For the first time, the weight of all she had seen didn't feel like chains. It felt like wings.
* * *