29-MARK
One instant it was standing a few feet away. The next it was in front of me, so close I could see individual flecks of star-light moving under its skin. Its hand—cool, not cold—rose and hovered just above my chest. “May I?” it asked. There was a part of me that wanted to say no. The same part that wanted to pack my things, hike down the mountain on foot if I had to, and never look back. Go somewhere flat with too many people and too many cars and pretend none of this had happened. The bigger part, the tired part, the part that was done being in the dark about my own life, whispered, If this kills you, at least you’ll have answers on the way out. I swallowed. “Yes.” Lunara’s fingers brushed my sternum. Light exploded under my skin. Not like the heat. Not like the searing, all-consuming
- Writer
