Page 122 of May: Bloom & Bane

I wish her words comforted me. But they don’t.

“This is a problem. I don’t remember any of this,” I choke out. “How can I protect you if I can’t even remember? What if next time I⁠—”

“Vaelí, I need you to breathe. You’re spiraling.”

“Of course I’m spiraling, Eden. I lost time.” My claws drag through my hair.

“What if next time I don’t remember how to protect you?” Vines twitch at my feet. “I cannot lose you again, Eden.”

“Again?”

“I don’t–” I shake my head. “I don’t know. It just… came out.”

“It came out for a reason.”

“Therael. We’ll go find Therael. Right now. He gave you the tincture; he has to know why this is happening. He has to fix this.”

“And if he can’t?”

“Then I’ll stop taking it.” My jaw sets. “I don’t care if the migraines come back. I don’t care if my head splits open from pain. I’m not losing this, Eden. I’m not losing you for a few hours of peace.”

“But the pain–”

“Will be worth it if I get to remember loving you.”

The air shifts as Therael materializes in the kitchen, his halo spinning rapidly.

“We need to talk,” I rasp. “Right now.”

Therael’s expression doesn’t change. “I know. That is why I’m here.”

“Did you know that that dust would make me forget?”

“Of course, Sage. That is why I got it for you.”

“Why in the heavens would I ever want to forget, Therael?”

“Because your visions were debilitating you.”

“I haven’t heard Ashán since I woke up, and I don’t remember the Horsemen breaking into the house.”

Therael goes still, his halo screeching to a halt.

“Wait—no. That is not what the whilsømn‡ does.” (Dream dust) He shakes his head. “It only softens the visions. Are you saying that you are losing time?”

“Yes,” I bite out. “I don’t remember anything after you left last night. Eden said that Kaeran tried barrelling into the house, and Ashán took over and protected her. I don’t remember any of it.”

The pale blue light in his eyes dims. “That is not… possible.”

“It’s true.” Eden steps forward. “I sprinkled the dust over Sage after The Horsemen left.”

“The whilsømn doesn’t work that way,” Therael insists. “It’s meant to ease the visions, so they don’t⁠—”

“Don’t what?”

“Sage, believe me, if I could tell you, I would,” he says. “I have tried. My brothers and I are bound. Something intercepts my words each time. I even tried writing it; the paper burst into flames before I could finish a single sentence.”

He grabs me by both shoulders, looking deeply into my eyes.