Page 128 of Florescentia

I looked to the fire, his wings translucent and littered with small specks of light.

The gloved hand cupped my face.

I turned my head, but I kept my eyes down.

His shadow obscured the light, my body cold where it didn’t reach.

“Will you not look at me, sweet Iris?” he pleaded, but it was not a kindness afforded by any sincerity. It was the kindness of a man who wanted something.

“Will you see me, Beast?” I finally looked at him.

I couldn’t see his eyes behind the faux-gilt hands that covered them, perhaps a subconscious guilt that had led to his choice of mask.

“I do,” he said.

“Yet you keep me here.”

“You came here voluntarily.” He brushed his hand along my arm. “Most would fight to be where you are now, the opportunity at your fingertips, on the tip of your tongue”—he leaned close, a slight smirk—“so close you could taste it.”

“I want to go home.”

“You know your options,” he hummed, taking my hand in his and pulling me as he walked backward toward the edge of the camp.

I bit my tongue.

“You would no longer feel things like hunger or thirst, sadness or grief, death or decay. There is no need for that when you’re here.” He walked me through the trees, a short path.

The tree line opened up to a long cliff.

“I could show you everything. Every wonder that has ever existed, every question you’ve ever had—I can show you, teach you,” he said, a joyous smile when he turned back to me, pulling me closer to the ledge.

Water sloshed below. The black surface reflected like onyx. Yet there was no litter, no sign that humans had ever desecrated it. It smelled earthy, somewhat reminiscent of decay. Salty air swept against my lips. The wind was so harsh it made me miss an inhale.

Off in the distance was blackness.

Then, a light.

First it was an arc, a wavering glow over the horizon as it rose. Soon it revealed a ring in the sky, an eclipse.

“There is nothing in that world that is worth it,” he said breathlessly, his face tipped toward the sky.

I stared at him, then at the wonder before us.

He squeezed my hand and looked back at me.

I turned to him, and he prepared for an embrace. He placed his hands on my waist.

But I reached for his mask, slipping it backward off his head, and my hands cupped his cheek.

“I can’t stay with you,” I said.

The iridescent glow of his eyes was a little brighter, searching my face for my reason.

“What is there for you in that world that I can’t give you?” he asked, his brow furrowing as he held me close.

“Humanity,” I said.

He blinked, a frustrated sigh as he looked off.