A Luna's Flame

Chapter Seventy-Two

My breath caught as I stilled, hearing a voice that provoked an onslaught of emotions. Recovering quickly, I hastily walked to the front of the chair, unshed relief and sadness almost blinding me. Pythia sat on the plush throne with her small hands cupped in front of her. The charmed water that filled them played my latest dream. I looked at her face, having not seen her for almost two years outside my dreams. The long, ragged claw mark that marred her face caught my attention as it stretched from the thin skin above her eyebrow to the curve of her jaw. Outside of the new, rage-inducing accessory, she seemed to be her usual self. She wore her traditional, long black tunic, but her cloak and decorative gems were gone. Her long, full, snow-white hair was pulled into a braided bun, my eyes narrowing in on the swirls and zigzags of the intricate design.

The dual-eyed witch hadn't bothered to look up from her hands, displaying the mess I called life; the show was too engrossing.

"Pythia, where have you brought me? More importantly, where have you been? We've been looking for you for years," I asked, my voice growing quiet as I looked around at the stark barrenness of the white, pristine area.

"Give me one second. This is my favorite part," Pythia shushed me as she watched in silent amusement.

I glanced into her hand, watching the life of that grey wolf soak the grass beneath its limp body. I rolled my eyes as Enyo grumbled with shared agitation, surprising me as I hadn't noticed that she had also been pulled from the dream. The old woman only knew how to live on her own timing and hadn't changed during our time apart.

"Pythia!" I called out as the younger version of myself began to trek through the forest in search of the lost children.

"I see you've failed to retain my many lessons in manners," Pythia quipped as she looked up at me with a raised brow.

"And why am I only looking at half of you? You know better than to stand before me improperly," she reprimanded, seemingly now uninterested in my memories that still played between her palms.

Enyo shook her fur as she rose to all fours, slowly coming forward. I took a deep breath as Enyo's presence began to fill my lungs. My body seemed to vibrate with energy as my eyes burned with clarity and my hearing sharpened. The whiteness of my surroundings quickly became blinding as the only noise filling the room came from our breathing and the subtle sounds of my memory. It felt refreshing to be whole again, even when the world seemed to be too much.

"Better—Damn it! I just missed it," Pythia exclaimed as she looked back at her charmed water.

Gingerly, she blew softly against the surface of the liquid, watching as the vision rewound itself.

"There," she whispered before carefully raising from the chair, forcing me to take a few steps back.

"To answer your earlier question, we are in one of my astral planes. I haven't much energy or interest to fill it with the unnecessary embellishments that Atlas seems to cherish," Pythia explained as she walked toward a white marble altar that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

"I asked you three questions, Pythia," I sighed as I trailed behind her.

"And I gave you my answer," Pythia casually responded as she stood before the cool stone.

There was a large divot carved into the smooth marble. A bowl of sorts. Pythia carefully poured her charm into it and watched it closely. I glanced into it, annoyed with Pythia's lack of attention, and froze immediately, my blood running cold. Two small children with wild tuffs of sandy brown hair stood before a cracked tree, its edges singed. At their muddy, bare feet lay a woman who was covered in blood and dark bruises, the shreds of her black dress barely covering her modesty. The woman's eyes were barely open, the small slivers of green looking lifelessly into the distance. The children, a boy and a girl, looked at her wordlessly as tears streamed down their faces.

They didn't stir when I walked behind them. They didn't speak when I asked them if they were hurt. They didn't move when I told them it wasn't safe for them to be there. At that moment, their lives had been savagely ripped apart, and the world stopped having meaning. And in that moment, I finally understood what it looked like when a mess of misshaped puzzle pieces rained down around someone as their life fell apart in front of them. It was something Noah had witnessed firsthand. A puzzle of a soul that would never fit snugly together again as it will always be missing that stolen piece.

The water rippled as a tear disrupted the surface, the vision quickly distorting. I looked up with glossy eyes to find Pythia quickly wiping her eyes. My throat burned with raw emotion as I glanced back at the image again, despite my better judgment. However, the vision had shifted.

I was looking down at a younger version of Pythia standing in the same forest, talking to someone just out of sight. Suddenly, I remembered how we ended up there. We had gone into the forest together that afternoon to collect medicinal herbs, as she had come down with an unusual cold that morning. Noah had offered to join me on my trip so that Pythia could stay at camp to rest, but she was persistent about not being an 'invalid.'

Once we started our search for my laundry list of herbs, we soon separated as I had volunteered to gather the harder-to-obtain herbs so that she could focus on collecting those nearby to conserve her energy. She was gone without a trace when I returned after what I had assumed to be a short excursion. I went out searching for her, but locating the witch was almost impossible as she always negated her scent in public. After nearly two hours, I started to hear the children crying as a low growl shook the ground.

That night was the last time I saw Pythia, and my guilt had never subsided. The only things I had to come back with of her were her discarded wicker basket of herbs and a torn piece of paper with 'wait for the green light' haphazardly scribbled on it.