The Mirror of the Moon (Revenant Wyrd Book 2) Read Free

question is will you help?”
    The nependier stood staring at Angelica as if weighing something in its mind, calculating a decision about her worth—if Jovian was worthy enough to help, if it would make a difference in the lives of the nependier if this man stayed dead or not.
    Fear not, came a strange voice into Angelica’s mind. The voice was so strong and so powerful that it made her knees shake. She would not show frailty, she would not collapse from the power the voice exuded over her. The time for this Neferis’ death is not now. There are many things he must do before his time is up. The creature bowed its head in acknowledgment of her question.
    Then with a startling pop that resounded through the clearing, huge, feathery wings snapped open from the nependiers’ body.
    Angelica watched in amazement, the worry of her fallen brother melting away as soft silver light began to grow at the joint of wings and body. The light traced its way along the edges of each feather until they were all ringed with silver luminescence. Finally the light grew in intensity, so concentrated that they all shielded their eyes.
    Elven eyes, however, were much stronger than human ones so there was no need for Lockelayter to protect his eyes, and so he watched the transformation take place. The nependier bent its head down to rest its horn to Jovian’s forehead. The light extended from the horn and through the man’s body tracing across each line and crack in the skin, each break of flesh, each protrusion of bone until both creature and human shone with a light that was completely ethereal.
    Fingers became whole once more, no longer a ruined mess of lumps and blood. His skin softened, moistened, and mended back together. His hair grew once more, as did the beard that had been there before the lightning strike. All traces of blood and death raced from his body leaving a shockingly beautiful being laying on the table, no longer in his final sleep, but instead in a deep restful sleep.
    Lockelayter studied the soft cream of Jovian’s skin, no longer charred and cracked, the natural blush of his cheeks, the pale curve of lush lips, and sharp bridge of a previously broken nose. His soft blond hair lay in lank curls around his head, not the shriveled mess it had been. Under his soft lids eyes danced in the midst of dreams, now renewed and pleasant in this place where harm could not touch body or mind.
    He looked to the creature, wondering why it had interfered where they had never interfered before. The nependier nodded once, closed its wings, and turned away from them all.
    Angelica watched the creature retreat with awe. She had expected it would bring Jovian back from death but she had not expected it would remake him anew.
    Tears once more graced her cheeks, but this time not from sadness; this time from happiness and relief. Everything seemed good and right once more. She reached down and took one of Jovian’s smooth hands in her own and touched his soft hair with the other.
    Deep in his sleep, Jovian moaned and shifted his head.
    As Angelica was joined by the rest of her friends, the elves backed away into the trees once more, leaving Lockelayter with the group. Angelica began to weep openly holding her brother’s hand close to her heart.
     

 
    I t took three days for Jovian to return to the waking world. Three days of constant vigils were held by Maeven and Angelica. The elves that attended him were much different from those they saw the night when they first entered Whitewood Haven. Angelica began to see them as a very fun loving race that could be stern when need called for it, but most certainly not choosing to be so all the time.
    Jovian was washed and tended to each day, his face shaved by Maeven, as the elves, having no body hair anywhere on their body, didn’t know how to properly shave a face, and his body clothed in a soft white wrap much like the garb the male elves wore. In fact, they all now wore such clothing. Maeven