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A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
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“Like calls to like,” I whispered.
“I am the power that makes the seed break forth from its prison and reach toward the sun.” He began to lower himself, as if doing some exquisitely slow push-up. It was as if he were pushing himself down through layers of power, and our auras began to flare between us, like two different kinds of flame. I could see it inside my head with that vision that has nothing to do with optic nerves and everything to do with dreams. He spoke through the power. “And you are the earth that receives the seed.”
“No,” I whispered, “Amatheon is the earth.”
“He is the plow, not the earth,” Adair said.
I shook my head, shivering as his power curled over mine. Our auras, the very skin of our magic, pushed against each other, two pieces of a half joining together.
“Amatheon is the magic of the earth that quickens the seed. You are the heat of the sun that calls that seed to the light. Amatheon is the lord of the shallow dark, who holds the seed in its dark cradle until you call it forth.” The words were mine, the voice was mine, but I knew the echo of the Goddess by now.
Adair’s power flared so bright we both closed our eyes, as if the vision fire were real, like shielding the eyes from the sun. My power blazed in turn, a white luminance to balance his golden heat.
When the light died down enough to see his face, his eyes were one solid yellow glow, as if his power had swallowed the other colors. It was as if there were some great, golden candle inside his skin, glowing in a long, thick line down the center of his body, but leaving the outer edges of him in a kind of darkness.
My skin glowed as if the full moon were rising up through it. But the moon’s light is a reflection of the heat of the sun. Reflecting Adair’s power made mine grow brighter. It was as if his power was meant to feed mine.
His mouth hovered over mine as he whispered, “If I am that which calls forth the seed, and Amatheon is the ground that holds the seed, then what are you, Meredith? What are you?”
“I am the life that springs from the seed, Adair. I grow, I feed my people, I die, but am reborn. I wax and I wane. I give light and hide in the dark. I am always, and always will be.”
“Goddess,” he whispered. “Danu.”
Our lips met, and he breathed in a rush of warmth through my mouth. It was as if I could inhale the essence of him, his magic.
He drew back from that kiss and magic trailed between our lips like something warm and thick and sweet. He whispered through that sweet power, “Meredith.
“Like calls to like,” I whispered.
“I am the power that makes the seed break forth from its prison and reach toward the sun.” He began to lower himself, as if doing some exquisitely slow push-up. It was as if he were pushing himself down through layers of power, and our auras began to flare between us, like two different kinds of flame. I could see it inside my head with that vision that has nothing to do with optic nerves and everything to do with dreams. He spoke through the power. “And you are the earth that receives the seed.”
“No,” I whispered, “Amatheon is the earth.”
“He is the plow, not the earth,” Adair said.
I shook my head, shivering as his power curled over mine. Our auras, the very skin of our magic, pushed against each other, two pieces of a half joining together.
“Amatheon is the magic of the earth that quickens the seed. You are the heat of the sun that calls that seed to the light. Amatheon is the lord of the shallow dark, who holds the seed in its dark cradle until you call it forth.” The words were mine, the voice was mine, but I knew the echo of the Goddess by now.
Adair’s power flared so bright we both closed our eyes, as if the vision fire were real, like shielding the eyes from the sun. My power blazed in turn, a white luminance to balance his golden heat.
When the light died down enough to see his face, his eyes were one solid yellow glow, as if his power had swallowed the other colors. It was as if there were some great, golden candle inside his skin, glowing in a long, thick line down the center of his body, but leaving the outer edges of him in a kind of darkness.
My skin glowed as if the full moon were rising up through it. But the moon’s light is a reflection of the heat of the sun. Reflecting Adair’s power made mine grow brighter. It was as if his power was meant to feed mine.
His mouth hovered over mine as he whispered, “If I am that which calls forth the seed, and Amatheon is the ground that holds the seed, then what are you, Meredith? What are you?”
“I am the life that springs from the seed, Adair. I grow, I feed my people, I die, but am reborn. I wax and I wane. I give light and hide in the dark. I am always, and always will be.”
“Goddess,” he whispered. “Danu.”
Our lips met, and he breathed in a rush of warmth through my mouth. It was as if I could inhale the essence of him, his magic.
He drew back from that kiss and magic trailed between our lips like something warm and thick and sweet. He whispered through that sweet power, “Meredith.