"Marina," I said as I stopped in my tracks.
She is there, collecting the flowers in a basket. She is wearing a yellow pleated skirt and a white sleeveless blouse; they are simple, but they look incredible on her.
She seemed to hear me as she turned, and a surprise appeared on her face, before it turned into a big, radiant smile.
"Michael," she called.
Her voice felt like rain for my barren heart. I moved toward her before I could stop myself.
My mind is screaming at me that she is not real, but everything about her feels real—her clothes, her smile, and the tiniest expressions.
My mind is telling me that the powers here could pull my memories and could bring out illusions more real than real things, but I didn't listen.
I have a strong heart, but this is the power of Golden Prime.
It will get stronger the more I believe in the illusion; it is already getting stronger as the voices in my mind grow lower and lower, until I can barely hear them.
