My assigned morning duty is simple. Chop veggies, crack open a few dozen eggs, and scramble them until they’re just right. No brain power is required so I let the rhythm do the thinking for me. The clatter of pans and the sizzle of food cooking in the skillet drowns out the noise in my head. Eventually I eat a quick breakfast, opting for a couple granola bars, and move on to the laundry. One of the baskets is overloaded so I brace my arms underneath it and shift my weight, heaving it up against my hip. Clothes spill over the rim with every step I take, forcing me into a stop-start shuffle down the hall.
I finally make it to the laundry room and set the basket down with a thud and begin sorting through the clothes. The rustle of footsteps catches my attention, and I look up seeing Harold in the doorway. He doesn’t say anything at first, he just stares at me as I keep working. Then, after what feels like an eternity, he speaks. “He wants to see you in his office. Now.” My heart stutters and I freeze, dropping the shirt in my hands that I was shoving into the washer. I totally forgot about our morning meeting.
I straighten my back and narrow my eyes. “Who’s he?”
Harold doesn’t blink. “He’s someone you want to listen to.” I hold his stare for a moment, but something about the expression on his face lets me know I’m not getting out of this. He turns around, and I sigh before wiping my hands down my front.
The hallway stretches ahead, and I take in the musty scent of aged wood. The dim lighting above flickers, casting long, eerie silhouettes to stretch toward us as if they’re trying to pull us in. His boots click sharply against the floor and the walls feel like they are trying to close in around us with every step I hear him take. The knot in my stomach becomes heavier the closer we get to the end of the hall. The door to Fenris’ office looming ahead. Once we arrive, Harold reaches for the handle and, with a low creak, pushes the door open. He steps aside before motioning me through. I hesitate for a moment, remembering yesterday’s encounter.
The warmth of the fireplace hits me once I enter. It’s a little early into the season for the cold to be settling in, so I’m not sure why he needs the fire. I guess he just enjoys being reminded of home. I watch the crackling flames dance, casting an orange glow around them. Yesterday when I was here, I wasn’t in the right headspace to notice the things I’m seeing now. The room is large but not in an inviting way. Fenris stands by the large wooden desk and motions me over to the deep-red velvet couch. “Please, have a seat.”
My eyes are drawn to the long accent table as I walk over. It’s cluttered with a mess of random items. The table itself is dark and polished to a high sheen, but the objects scattered across it seem out of place. I focus on one item, a ram’s horn. It’s curved and dark at the base and it lightens toward the tip to appear shiny and smooth. It curls into a sharp point, one that’s sharp enough to puncture. Fenris notices my pause. “It’s from a ram Ihunted years ago.” A small smile plays on my lips as I think to myself,Wow, who would’ve thought?
He steps in my direction before stopping next to me, reaching out to gently touch the horn. “Some things deserve to be kept sharp, you know?” He pauses, then looks back at me. “A sharp mind, a sharp weapon. They both have their uses.”
I interrupt wherever he’s trying to go with this by walking over to the couch, settling into its cushions. Fenris adjusts his jacket and walks behind his desk, taking a seat. “How’s your morning so far?”
“Fine.” I keep my reply as cold and matter-of-fact as possible.
“I hope your tasks haven’t been too overwhelming?”
I shrug. “They’re fine.” He shifts forward with a low cough escaping his throat, he’s clearly expecting more than what I’m giving him.
“I wanted to have our first session this morning. I hold them with certain individuals. One on one, as needed.” I shift against the cushions, his words fill me with a sense of uneasiness.
“How often will we be having these sessions?”
“Typically once a week, but we could always meet more if needed.” He says this like it’s rehearsed, like its store policy or something. “It’s important that we, you and I, stay spiritually aligned to maintain a connection.” A smile creeps across his face showing his teeth that are too white and too perfect to be natural. “It’s my responsibility to lead those under my care, and well, you fall under that category now.” I keep my face neutral, not wanting him to see the wave of revulsion crashing inside of me. He clasps his hands together and interlocks his fingers. The look on his face shifts into something domineering as he studies me.
“Well, let’s begin, shall we?” He leans back in his chair. “Tell me, Catarina, do you feel it yet?” I blink, my stomach twisting.
“Feel what?” I ask.
“The shift,” he answers like it should be obvious. “You’ve only just arrived, but you’ll start to notice it soon. The way everything starts to align. The way your mind begins to clear and your heart begins to open. It’s what happens when you surrender to something greater than yourself.”
Surrender. The word makes my skin burn, but I keep my expression as neutral as possible, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. “I don’t feel any different.” I try to match his measured tone.
He leans back, his eyes now full of amusement. “Not yet. But you will.” He taps his fingers against the desk, almost like they’re following along with my pulse. “It’s not about force, you know. It’s about attunement, and trust.” He lets the word settle, and I can feel him watching me as I look down at my hands, fidgeting my fingers.
“Tell me, do you trust me?” My throat dries, the feeling of a harsh and scratchy sensation makes my attempts at swallowing impossible.
I force myself to meet his stare. “I don’t even know you.”
His smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider, like he was expecting that answer, like he wanted me to say it. “That will change,” he says simply. “In time.”
“And if I don’t want it to change?” I ask, steady but challenging.
Fenris tilts his head slightly. He doesn’t seem angry, he looks more amused than anything. Like my resistance is just another step in his process, one he had planned for. He exhales slowly. “Then that would be unfortunate.” His tone’s now lighter. “Because it will.”
“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”
“I am,” he says simply. “You’ll come to learn that about me.” I don’t appreciate the certainty in his voice. He’s speaking as if mychoices aren’t mine to make. I lean back into the couch, crossing my arms over my chest.
“And what if I never do?” There’s a light tug at the corner of his lips, and something I can’t read flickers behind his eyes.
“Then you’ll be the first.”
I let the silence stretch between us for what feels like minutes before speaking. “There’s a first for everything.”
