Contents (41)
- CAST OF CHARACTERS
- ACT ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- ACT TWO
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- ACT THREE
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- ALSO BY NAFIZA AZAD
FIVE
THE COLORS ARE RIOTING.
The green flings itself off the leaves of the trees and assaults Croi’s eyes. The brown of the barks fractures into a thousand shades. Patches of blue visible through the forest canopy shimmer smugly. White flowers are bewitching in their purity. Shades of red and orange undulate while threads of acid pink knot the veins of leaves. Sunlight separates into golden motes and then comes together in a flash. Blinded, Croi squeezes her eyes closed and concentrates on breathing.
She is not certain she can remember how.
Croi takes a deep breath and pushes all thoughts aside; she opens her eyes slowly, ready to close them again if the colors refuse to behave. A moment passes. Everything is still too bright and painfully intense, but the green eventually settles down and the brown stops dancing. The reds and oranges still glow, however, and the white flowers pierce her eyes.
She looks around, drinking in the Wilde Forest around her. It feels like a new place. With her changed eyes, she can see farther than she could before; the nooks, the hollows, and the dips no longer hide secrets. Light refracts in strange ways and reveals things that weren’t previously visible. Croi’s changed eyes paint a new picture of the forest, a clearer, brighter picture. She looks up and sees the leaves high in the trees that shine as though they’re infused with light. The smallest plant has a shine. Even the ants are shining.
The soles of her feet prickle. When she looks down, she finds silver-brown lines dissecting the forest floor; these visible, yet intangible, lines crisscross and intersect in random directions. Her eyes widen when she sees several green-brown strands wrapped around her middle and leading off into the distance. These strands are damaged; there are holes in the wider ones, as if they were burnt by something strong. Though tense, the strands are not currently pulling her but have the potential to. When Croi tries to break them, they sting her fingers. This is the summoning spell.
Croi glares at the strands, calling them a filthy word she learned in the human world. The word doesn’t do anything to the strands, but uttering it does make her feel better. She wonders how Irial would react to the word and decides to teach it to him the next time he appears.
She brings up a hand to scratch the itch on her nose and goes still when she realizes that she is glowing too. Unlike everything else that is lit by one kind of light, she is lit by two. One of the strands is green with brown bits, much like pebbles, in it, and the other is an orange, with yellow in places. The strands spark when she looks at them, but they avoid her when she tries to touch them. They are clearly tangible, but they just don’t let her touch them. Even as they travel through the veins in her body.