Iris
“Miss Willford! Iris! Wake up!”
Someone is shaking me. Hard. I slowly open my eyes, blinking against the harsh lights of my studio. Everything hurts—my head is pounding, my muscles ache, and my throat feels raw, like I’ve been screaming.
Emi’s concerned face hovers over me. “Goddess, you scared me. I heard crashing and when you didn’t answer… I thought…”
I push myself up on my elbows, wincing as I survey the destruction around me. Torn canvas. Overturned taboret. Broken brushes. Feathers everywhere.
Did I do all this?
“Are you hurt?” Emi asks. “Should I call a doctor?”
“No,” I croak. “I’m fine. Just… had a moment.”
A moment? Is that what we’re calling hallucinating a giant wolf that speaks to you now?
Beware the serpent. She shares our family’s gift
