Page 123 of Florescentia

I screamed, a cry of victory, but it was like no sound came from me at all; all I could hear was the ringing in my ears. My heart beat so fast, so fiercely as I jumped in the air.

I thrust my middle finger to the sky and laughed.

With my skin aglow and spirits high, an overwhelming power simmered deep within me. It rattled my rib cage, made every breath of air richer with the undeniable reverberation of pure energy.

This must have been why he was so desperately trying to convince me to join him. He was also in a hurry—and knowing I had a clock on my chances made his distractions crystal clear to me.

He was scared.

Which meant, there was a way out of this.

Chapter Thirty-Six

The Nova

Somehow the woods were more extensive than when I’d first entered, what I’d thought was minutes to venture within turning into hours of finding my way out.

By the time I’d returned to my spot under the tree, my entire body was sore. My eyelids weighed heavily, and so did my limbs.

I plopped down beside the split willow tree, my things still hanging on miscellaneous branches. With nimble fingers, I sorted the twigs and leaves from my curls, attempting to separate any new knots that had formed while I was in the forest.

I leaned my head back against the trunk of the tree.

The branches above me swayed, feathery leaves fluttering against the starry mural.

No matter how I tried, nothing would put my mind to rest. The heaviness of my eyes did nothing to help me will myself to sleep. Even if I forced myself to rest, I would not dream. I’d tried before. This place made it so you were always sleepless in the forever night.

Sometimes I would hear the flowers taunting their secrets in a language I didn’t know, or the whistle of a breeze to a far-off tune.

Then, like a long-awaited embrace, the sound of my father’s voice.

“Nina!”

I shot up, looking toward the water. The light again, and noises more boisterous than the last.

I scrambled for the pond and ran straight in. My petticoat sucked up the water, taking on its weight until I was waist deep. With my arms raised above the rippling surface, I hovered my hands over the glow. The pictures moved again, the voices muffled underneath.

There was very little time to think; I had to see. I sucked in a deep breath, plunging my head under the water and into the dark.

First there was nothing.

Then, a spark.

One moment of stillness turned into a rush, like I was being pulled through a riptide toward the light. It took a moment of blinking to clear my eyes, a scene unraveling around me.

A muffled explosive noise in my ear.

I was running.

I looked down, thick boots kicking up dry soil. I was in a body, but it wasn’t my own. It was dark, but the lights were plentiful.

In the distance, a town alight with gunfire. The drought-stricken farmland was catching fire in a sweeping line. The crackling grew so loud it roared. I almost couldn’t hear the gunshots.

“Nina!” The word came from my mouth, the body’s mouth. A man’s desperate voice.

Much like the experience in the museum, it was happening through my father’s memories.

He carried an axe, the hands thick and strong. Even with a limp, he made haste, soon reaching the old vineyard barn.