SAGE (under edit)

Chapter Twelve

Sage was not sure how much time passed, but she slept through most of it. She slept to heal and recover her energy, her Kyra, but also to avoid Raidan.

Whenever Sage woke she heard Raidan's words, and they resonated through her like a bell. It wasn't a pleasant sensation though; as the words rang through her they disturbed the dust she had let settle on stagnant memories of her childhood, shifted the dirt over the feelings of adoration she had had for Raidan as a child, unearthing everything she had hidden in order to detach herself from the Raidan she knew.

It made her stomach twist, her chest tighten, and Sage would squeeze her eyes closed with the hope she could block out Raidan's words and what they might mean long enough that she could fall back into the peaceful silence of sleep.

Sometimes Sage dreamed of being with her squad in Lion Crest, and other times her squad changed to the Shadow Soldiers, and occasionally she would dream of being with neither. She would be alone, standing on a precipice with Lion Crest below and shadowed silhouettes behind her. Sometimes she faced herself, one dressed in Crest Soldier uniform and the other dressed as a Shadow Soldier. And she would see Dean, or hear him, no matter who she stood with or how she was dressed. Then she would see Dean talking with Raidan, both the same age as young adults and Dean would grin his boyish grin as he clapped Raidan on the shoulder, and Raidan would nod his head then look directly at Sage.

And then she would wake, and remember Raidan's words all over again.

But this time when Sage woke, it was another word that rang through her head as she bolted upright.

RedEarth.

Although the word came to her, and although she remembered hearing it, the memory it belonged to didn't surface. Dropping her head into her hands, Sage tried to retrace the fight with Blain. She remembered pausing at the stream, her instincts warning her that someone was approaching, and arming herself with a shard of glass—

Sage dropped her hands, her brow furrowing. She remembered cutting her hand on the glass, and yet her hand was now uninjured. Even if a medic with more skill than Toren had healed her hand a scar would have been left behind, but her palm was unblemished. Had she remembered wrong?

'You're awake!'

Startled, Sage turned toward the voice to find Dante stepping into the bedroom from a balcony she hadn't noticed when she first woke. His blonde hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, unbound strands flicked back from his face to show the hesitant expression there. Dressed in simple black pants and a white short-sleeved shirt, it was easy to forget he was a Shadow Soldier.

Sage looked away and slipped out of the bed, saying, 'Has Raidan finally decided to keep me under watch so I don't attempt another escape?'

'Actually, Toren suggested someone should keep watch over you while you slept. Head injury and all that,' Dante said. 'How are you feeling?'

Sage stood up, relieved that the movement didn't cause any dizziness. She looked down at herself, still dressed in the spare Crest Soldier uniform she had changed into at the last house. It smelled of river water and had dirt stains in places, but Sage had nothing else to wear now.

'Whose house is this?' Sage asked, turning back to Dante.

'Toren's,' said Dante, and after a hesitant pause he added, 'Can I get you anything?'

Her eyes sweeping the bedroom, Sage said, 'A spare change of clothes would be good.'

'Oh! Sure. Um...' Dante hummed to himself, probably realising that they didn't have any women's clothing in the house. 'Toren's clothing might be closer to your size. I'll check with him.'