8

Dawn stabbed at Eden’s eyes and she bolted upright with her arms over her face. Her eyes felt like they were boiling in their sockets.

“It burns,” she whimpered.

Raissa and Javan scampered nearby. Then someone tossed a blanket over her head, the brightness dulled a bit.

“Better?” Raissa asked.

“Some. Can you snuff out the sun?” It was still wicked bright.

“Try this,” Javan handed her the book underneath the blankets, “there should be something in there to help you.”

Squinting her eyes, she could make out a few words. Her throat dry as she swallowed to speak them. “Dim the light, split the night and the day, make it so.”

Slowly, her eyesight returned to normal and she took off the blanket. “Thanks.”

Javan took the blanket from her. “Guess not all the spells are good things.”

“It worked fine while it was dark,” Eden shrugged, “but as soon as the sun rose, I was blinded.” Worse than that, it felt like the back of her eyeballs were being fried.

“I’ll scrounge up some breakfast,” Raissa said. She tromped off through the woods.

Eden pushed the book to Javan not willing to try another spell for a long time. “Here, it’s your turn to review the book.”

Instead of reaching for the ancient tome, he sat down across the smoldering ashes. “I’m sorry…about what happened to your caretaker.”

She snorted. Yeah, that’s what the Damned foster parents were called. They weren’t allowed to be a mother and father or a family. She clenched her fists, tears stinging her sore eyes. “They were more than my caretakers,” her voice hiccupped, “she was my mother. The only one I ever knew and she saved me when anyone else would’ve thrown me off a cliff.”

“Not all of us were as fortunate.” He pulled the book closer to him but didn’t open it. “I wish my caretakers would’ve cared for me a fraction of what yours did for you. That makes his sacrifice all the more precious.”

She couldn’t fault his lack of understanding. Her family was blessed both in their love for her and the leniency in some instances because of her father being on the council. What would happen to him now that she’d fled? Would they torture him?

“Hey,” Javan clasped her knee, “What happened at your house wasn’t your fault, you know that right?”

“If I hadn’t found the book—”

“Then we’d be enslaved.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze. “I don’t believe that. My family wouldn’t have stood for that, they’d have gotten me out.”

“Even the most loving caretakers would bow to the council’s will.” He gave her a sad smile that made her heart thump against her chest in sorrow. “They wouldn’t have had a choice.”

“What about you and Raissa?” She had to change the subject before she started crying because she didn’t think she could stop once she did.

“Not much to tell.” He removed his hand from her knee and she missed his comfort.

“Are you two really cousins?” How many times had she wished for a sibling or other family member who was Damned like her. Someone to share secrets with, caught without fear of reprimand, share her hiding places when she was younger.

“Yes. The caretakers who found us said so.” He shook his head. “We grew up never questioning it. Though she feels more like an annoying sister than a cousin.”

“I heard that.” Raissa emerged from the woods with her skirts hiked up as she carried something in them. When she reached the campfire, she divided up berries she’d gathered between the three of them.

“Wait,” Eden paused holding a piece of the red fruit partway to her mouth, “How do you know these are safe to eat?” Her parents had a small garden but it was vegetables: corn, wheat, peppers. Anything else they’d needed, they bought at the market. Sadness sent a pang through her middle at the memory of her mother dying. And what of her father? Was he okay or was Mi’kahl torturing him even now?

“What’s wrong?” Javan asked.

Raissa shook her head. “She’s worried about the food.”

“No, it’s more than that.” Taking Eden’s hand, he rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “Tell us.”

“I’m worried about my father.”

“That man is one of them, he turned you over to the council to be stripped of your power.” Raissa tossed a berry into her mouth.

Anger pressed into her chest. “He is my dad, the only one I’ve ever known. My mother is dead because of that stupid book. They took me in when they could’ve left me to die.” She squeezed her fists, pulling away from his touch. “And where were my real parents? They left me to die—at least my foster parents gave me a chance at life—to live even if it would’ve been without powers.”

She stomped away, scrubbing a hand over her eyes. All this was her fault. She wished she’d never found that stupid book.  Would living as a normal person have been that bad? Raissa and Javan acted like it was the most horrible thing that could happen. But would it have been?

It was too late for her mom. The image of her mother burnt, transforming into that creature, made bile burn the back of her throat. And her father. Gods, he’d given his life to save hers, why? He didn’t owe her anything in fact, because of her their home had been destroyed and his wife killed.

“Eden,” Javan called.

She didn’t want to face him or his cousin. All she wanted was things to go back to how they’d been before. Not wanting him to find her before she was ready, she raced through the forest until she didn’t hear him again.

Her breathing labored and she stopped beside an oak tree with dropping branches to rest. Sweat coated the back of her neck bringing a chill as the wind tugged through her hair and at her clothes.