Page 1 of Treasured

Laughter Might Not Be the Best Medicine

LUNA

“Must keep her safe,” Sebastian muttered gruffly in his sleep. He shivered, his shoulders were tense, and his breath came in short bursts. His fists grasped at the cold stone floor serving as our makeshift bed. He tossed his head back, moaning. Fear was a heavy mist hanging in the air.

“Shhh,” I whispered. Putting my hand on his shoulder, I rubbed gentle circles. Sebastian was lying beside me, stretched out on the ground. We’d found refuge in this cave just before the sun rose. We were near the back, away from any stray sunlight that might find its way in. “Go back to sleep. You need it.”

His eyes didn’t open. He didn’t argue with me. I kept rubbing, eventually moving from his shoulders to his back until his breathing evened out. He fell back asleep.

A sigh of relief escaped my lips in a whoosh. I leaned against the wall and drew my cloak around myself. Sebastian had insisted I wear the garment in case I got cold. His request was silly since vampires did not feel the temperature in the same way mortals did. Still, I brought it. I didn’t have it in my heart to deny him. Not after what we’d been through.

The weather was atrocious. The flakes were so numerous I could barely see more than a few feet from our resting place. Icicles the length of small children dripped down from the cave entrance, and an unnatural inky stain coated all the trees. Death and darkness had come to the Eleytan forests, and they weren’t leaving.

Leaning over, I brushed a lock of black hair from Sebastian’s temples. His eyelids fluttered, but he did not wake again. Good. It had taken me days to convince him I would be alright if he rested. Even an older vampire like him couldn’t forgo sleep entirely. I was practically mortal in that regard. Aches and pains haunted me when I worked my body too hard, and I still required regular rest.

Eight days had passed since Queen Marguerite’s latest attempt to murder me. Eight exhausting days fleeing through the endless snowy woods, where we didn’t stay in one place longer than a night. Eight days where I alternated between laughing, which was unpleasant, and crying, which I hated even more.

Several things in my life were unpleasant. Not only was I plagued by blood tears, but I also had the misfortune of hearing voices. Thank Isvana, the goddess of the moon, I didn’t hear the voices all the time. Whenever I traveled through the Void—the dark shadows that allowed some vampires to move from one place to the next—they spoke to me.

The voices called me the Sunwalker, and they begged for my attention. I wasn’t sure what they wanted, but they didn’t leave me alone.

That was strange, too. I shouldn’t have been able to walk in the sun. Usually, that glowing golden orb was deadly to my kind. It burned vampires from the inside out, reducing them to charred husks of themselves.

Not me. I’d tested my hypothesis, much to Sebastian’s horror and dismay, and it was true. The sun did not hurt me. I had stood beneath its warming rays, and nothing had happened.

Needless to say, I was not a typical vampire.

I stretched out my legs, trying to find a comfortable seat. I’d give just about anything for a cushion right now. Although, a sore bottom was the least of my problems. I’d felt off since Sebastian and I had shared power through what the queen had called soul sharing.

My chest was abnormally tight, and every breath provided insufficient air. Even now, the queen’s dark, murderous gaze was seared into my memory. Her snarl as she tried to rip out my throat, the utter violence that radiated off her as she tried to kill me, haunted me. Waking and sleeping, I couldn’t shake the memories. I was in a state of perpetual unrest.

Sebastian snored, flinging his arm over me. I was glad he was sleeping—his wings had faltered last night during our flight, which frightened me and was the critical point in my argument when I convinced him to sleep. Unfortunately, now, I was bored.

This cave was empty, cold, and there wasn’t a book in sight. I was not built for the outside. None of this was particularly delightful—I preferred libraries over forests, books over people, and reading over hiking.

Our current situation meant finding literature was the least of our concerns. Sebastian and I hadn’t even had the time to try soul sharing again, having focused all our energy on getting away from the queen. Shadowing was a good method of travel, but it didn’t mean we could go anywhere. We were limited to places we’d already been. On top of that, much of the Four Kingdoms was experiencing significant upheaval thanks to the darkness, so our travel options were rather… limited.

Moving with extreme care so as not to wake my slumbering prince, I reached over him. The small clay pot I’d brought from the cabin was on the other side of Sebastian’s rather impressive, muscular form. I lifted it gingerly, holding my breath as I brought it closer.

Sebastian murmured something unintelligible, his arm locking around me as he drew me tight against him. Putting my finger in the soil, I frowned. It was too dry… or at least, I thought it was.

When Isvana gave me the seed, she neglected to give me directions on how to care for it. To be fair, the entire dream-that-wasn’t-a-dream had been strange in more ways than one.

Staring at the soil, I tried to decide what to do. I didn’t want to drown the plant, but I couldn’t let it die. I’d just have to be careful. Pursing my lips, I dug out a canteen of water from my bag. Unscrewing it, I held the lid in one hand and tipped the canteen over slowly. A few drops landed on the soil, which instantly darkened.

I added a few more and put the water away before examining the plant. It was small, barely more than a stem and a few leaves, but it perfectly matched Syndra’s description. Four triangular leaves and tiny berries the same color as the sky. If only the witch hadn’t sold us out to the People of the Night, perhaps she could have assisted us. But she was dead. My family was dead. Julieta was dead. So we had to figure this out on our own because there were no other options.

Everything surrounding the plant was shrouded in mystery. Marius, my little brother and only remaining family member, had been sick his entire life. The Wasting Illness struck him at birth, and no one had been able to help him. He was a halfling. His mother was a Fortune Elf, and our father was a human.

They were both dead now, too. His mother’s blood should afford him a long life… if he survived long enough to Mature. Usually, that took place around twenty-five years of age. Considering he was in a coma right now, that didn’t seem likely.

On top of all that, Marius was also the harbinger. Of what, we didn’t know. There was a prophecy, but in true prophetic nature, it was less than helpful.

Running my fingers over the little leaves, I repeated the priestess Zephyra’s words as if doing so would help lift the shroud of mystery surrounding them.

“When the harbinger is born, the Sunwalker will rise. With a bond that spans blood and time, the two shall awaken, united in purpose and resolve. The red moon will rise…” I paused, groaning as I struggled to remember the rest of it. Why were prophecies so long? I was good at memorizing things, but even this was a stretch.

After a moment, I picked it back up. “On that day, they will join forces with the Wielder of Shadows to confront the Black Rose, whose deceptive radiance conceals her malevolence. Only by vanquishing the darkness can the new era rise, ushering in a brighter future for all.”