around them, leaving him with nothing. Just Leila.
He breathed in. “I see…the backs of my eyelids.”
Leila released his arms. “Tobias.”
“I see black.” He chuckled. “I see nothing but darkness, because my damn eyes are closed.”
Tobias opened his eyes, only to find Leila frowning in front of him, her nose pointed to the ceiling.
“You’re impossible.” She turned on her heel. “I’m leaving.”
He laughed. “Leila, wait—”
“No, no, you’re clearly doing well enough on your own.”
“No, wait, please.” He grabbed her wrist, halting her, and smiled. “Do it again—what you just did. I’ll be good this time.”
Leila looked down at his hand and raised an eyebrow. “You’re humoring me.”
“I’m not.”
She wavered before shooting him a scowl, but he could clearly see a smile forming at the corners of her lips. “Fine.” Once more, she situated herself behind him, taking hold of his arms. “All right then. Relax yourself.”
“Done.”
“Close your eyes.”
“Done.”
“Take a deep breath.”
He breathed in, the thick tunnel air hot in his lungs. He exhaled, and Leila hovered over his shoulder once more.
“Center yourself. Still your mind. Let the inspiration come to you. Now, tell me…what do you see?”
Nothing, but he could feel everything: the tickle of her breath on his neck, the light touch of her fingertips on his skin. The heat of the tunnel clung to his body, and the smell of ash was interrupted by something sweet—something on Leila. Perfume, or was it her hair?
“Tobias? Are you listening?”
He flinched. “Apologies. I am. I promise. Say it again.”
Her cheek brushed against his. “What do you see?”
He fought to ignore the distractions, her breath in his ear, the hair standing straight on his arms. Something materialized before him, punctuating the blackness, staring back at him with intention.
“Eyes.”
“Really? You see eyes?” Leila released her grip. “So it worked?”
Tobias opened his eyes. Leila stood in front of him, her hands clasped beneath her chin, her gaze bright. He smiled.
“It worked.”
“Oh wow, I’m rather excited.” She swatted his arm. “Well, don’t just stand there, get to work. Create a masterpiece.”
“You give me too much credit.”
“I do no such thing. I have faith in you.” She cocked her head at the canvas. “Go on then. I’ll let you get to it.”
Tobias grinned—then froze, painfully aware of the ash on his face and chest, the gritty texture screaming at him. God, I’m a mess.
“Is something wrong?” Leila asked.
His face burned. “Apologies. I just realized I probably look rather silly.”
Without hesitation, Leila rubbed her hands along the labyrinth wall, blackening her fingers. She smeared the ash down her cheeks and dotted the tip of her nose, then planted her hands on her hips. “Now we both look silly.”
Tobias laughed. “You’re going to walk around the sanctuary like that?”
“Why shouldn’t I? No one here notices me anyhow.”
“That’s not true. I notice you.”
Leila wavered, her ashy cheeks tinted pink. She mustered a quick nod before heading off.
“Leila,” he called out.
She spun in place, meeting his gaze.
“Thank you,” he said.
She smiled. “Draw something beautiful. I know you will.”
She disappeared into the sanctuary, and Tobias turned to his canvas, breaking his charcoal down until it was pointed at the tip. It was time to begin.
His hand madly dashed across the canvas. Eyes. He saw them vividly, large and pronounced, and then there was a face with a delicate chin and a small, sweet nose. He bit his lip—lips, and he drew those too, soft and full with a hint of definition at the Cupid’s bow. Perfect. Except the cheekbones weren’t right, so he smudged his finger beneath them, creating just enough sharpness. Next came hair cascading down narrow shoulders, but something about it wasn’t working, so he dragged the charcoal against the canvas again and again, drawing long wisps of darkness.
Time became fleeting. He was absorbed in his work, governed by his impulse and his swift, steady hand. It was seamless; it was easy, as if he had never stopped. The piece was coming together, though something was missing—a freckle. A quick fix. Finally he was finished, and he stepped back to stare at his creation: a beautiful charcoal portrait.
Of Leila.
Wait, what?
Tobias froze. This is Leila. Why did I draw Leila? He glanced from side to side, searching for an answer, but all he found was ash. A lump formed in his throat. It’s perfectly logical. She was just over here. She was fresh in my mind. But the lump in his throat became hard, threatening to choke him. Yes, it was all perfectly logical, but not in the way he was