He opened his eyes. Eyes like golden suns. Like the peonies that stirred against his legs. And then he felt. Sensations that ran through the power lines of his body. Currents so foreign and yet so familiar. Because he knew them. He had felt them before. Even if he did not remember them.
He stepped forward with bare feet, relishing the warmth of the dirt beneath his toes. The tree at his side hummed with energy as it reached upwards towards the sun.
Leaves grumbled as voices disturbed their rest. But he was already slipping away, past the trees, through the bushes. Over roots and under branches. Something, though, pulled at his memories. Something about those voices. A name. His name? And desperation. But not enough for him to turn back. For him to leave. Because this, he knew, was what he had been searching for all his life.
He took another step. Then he hunched over, his hand grasping the skin above his heart. He frowned at the pain. He had no wound. Nothing had pierced his flesh. And yet he felt his heart ripping in two.
There was crying. The sobbing of one who has lost part of themselves. Heart wrenching wails that wrack the body with violent tremors.
Uncertainty, a Gorgon’s gaze, stilled him.
It was only when the voices began to fade, leaving him behind, that he turned, brows drawn together, and stared after them.
Another in the Changeling Child series