back to life

Amalia Her arms around his shoulders, she is his shroud, his shield, her body pressed against his back in protective adoration. She places her chin upon his nape as he takes the jar again, her warm breath creeping up his neck, her wide eyes wondering as he reaches for the water. And the water comes: in waves, in rivulets, rising to the sky. It glitters with moonlight and silver swirls, beauty in the control of it, the way it is drawn to him with a thought. As the jar fills she can feel his trepidation, his silence loud as his mind composes; she can feel his heartbeat shudder in his neck, her cheek pressed against the beating artery. Silently Amalia allows the experience, wondering what it is that has brought him to this place. And then the answer: My mother's magic. It is beautiful, Amalia acknowledges with a smile, wrapping her arms around him tighter, her own heart a butterfly beat in her chest. She would be proud. I am. Will you take it to Safrin? reach for the stars: but child, first recognize the constellations of light you already carry inside you