Chapter 2

I found Ethan near the stage, his back to me.

"Ethan," I said, my voice trembling.

He turned, his face smooth, unreadable.

"What is this? Those are my Seeds. They are part of me."

He looked down at me, a cool smile on his lips.

"If they're as special as you claim, my dear, you should have no trouble identifying them."

His voice was light, dismissive.

The crowd nearby tittered. I heard whispers.

"Primitive."

"Desert superstition."

"Gold-digger."

Tears pricked my eyes. I fought them back.

"Ethan, please," I pleaded, my voice barely a whisper. "They are part of my soul. With time, they would have... awakened."

He smirked.

"Well, let's hope there's nothing too 'earthy' inside. Candice has very refined tastes, you know."

The cruelty in his eyes was a physical blow.

Grief and nausea washed over me.

I turned, desperate to escape, to reach the ranch's gardens I saw through a distant door.

I needed to connect with my community, with the desert, to find guidance, strength.

Before I took three steps, strong hands grabbed my arms.

Security guards, their faces impassive, pulled me back.

Ethan was there, his face a mask of false concern.

"Elara, darling, are you unwell? Perhaps a sedative?"

His voice was loud enough for everyone to hear.

Cameras flashed. I realized, with a fresh wave of horror, this entire spectacle was being live-streamed.

A national audience was watching my humiliation.

Ethan leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, yet still amplified by a nearby microphone.

"Play the game, Elara. I'll be generous. You can leave with any remaining Sunstone Seeds if you participate."

The crowd murmured approval at his "magnanimity."

The game began.

The emcee, a man with a plastic smile, announced, "Choose the first Sunstone Seed!"

"If wrong," Ethan added, his voice like ice, "it will be crushed for Candice's research."

I looked at the display case.

The ballroom's dazzling, shifting lights reflected off the hundred crystals.

It was impossible to discern the subtle, living aura of my Seeds, their inner warmth.

They all looked the same under this harsh, artificial glare.

My mind raced. I had to choose.

In desperation, I picked a number that meant something to him, a foolish hope he might respond to a shared memory.

"#44," I whispered. His college football jersey number.

Ethan grinned, a chilling, triumphant look he shared with Candice.

He nodded to a man on stage dressed like a geologist, holding a hammer.

The man picked up crystal #44.

It wasn't one of mine. I knew it instantly, a cold dread filling me.

But then, a switch. My eyes darted.

The geologist' s hand moved to another crystal, a small one, the last one I had formed.

My smallest, most vulnerable.

"No!" I screamed.

The hammer fell.

The Sunstone Seed shattered.

Its inner light, a soft, warm glow I knew so well, extinguished.

It became dull, lifeless dust.

A part of me died with it.

Ethan sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

"Your 'soul,' Elara? Looks like common quartz to me."