My gaze lingers on the dress longer than I’d like to admit. Mom’s choice–she’d sent it up two days ago with a note that only said ‘It’s nearly as beautiful as you’.I can imagine hersmile seeing me in it: my hair smoothed to gleaming waves, red painted lips, every inch the daughter she’s shaped for this moment. I’m sure she’s been picturing it since she ordered the gown.
The satchel is a version of my future that no one but me has imagined me in, and the thought alone lifts the corners of my lips.
I cross to the bed, my fingertips grazing the cool silk before shifting to the warm leather handle. One is heavy with expectation and the other is heavy with possibility, but both have the potential to crush me.
It should be an easy decision.
It isn’t.
Mom’s words from earlier thread through my head, uninvited but stubborn:Because it’s lethal.
I heave a sigh and push aside my hopes in favor of looking at this logically for a moment.
My mom isn’t entirely wrong–I know that. Hunters may be illegal in the human realm of Ordinarius now, but laws don’t erase people’s hunger for blood. Ten years of shaky peace won’t stop a hunter from seeing my name, my blood, and my family as the ultimate trophy.
My feet begin to pace across the dark stone floors of my room, trailing the edge of my black rug as a glide. Back and forth I go.
While that could be the situation I walk into, I’m not the child my parents keep picturing to handle it. I’ve trained with all four of them since I could hold a blade. I’ve fought against sparring partners who outweighed me by three times, held my ground against Dad’s relentless drills, and passed Papa’s political scenario exams that most cadets twice my age failed. I’m not naïve enough to think that makes me untouchable, butI’m not walking into that world without any sense of how to handle conflict, be it mentally or physically.
I will never be empty-handed…quite literally.
My pacing comes to a halt as I lift my palms up. Black blades solidify, twin daggers materializing with a hum that’s more felt than heard. The black hilts nestle against my palms as the red runes I’ve yet to decipher on the blades catch the low light.
Lyra and Kael, my soul weapons and my lineage to the Van Helsing slayers in physical form.
Lyra rests cool and steady in my left hand, her weight perfectly balanced. “Breathe,”her soft voice murmurs in my mind, smooth and patient. “Rushing into a life-altering decision will get you nowhere good.”
Kael, in my right hand, thrums with a restless energy that prickles against my skin. “Or,”he cuts in, his tone wicked and eager, “we stop thinking in circles and start acting. Go slip through that portal before anyone catches you dithering.”
“She’s thinking,”Lyra counters without heat, as though my hesitation is exactly where I need to be.
“No, she’s just stalling because she lacks confidence to take what she wants,”Kael fires back, and the hum in my grip grows sharper, almost electric.
A wry smile tugs at my lips despite the stress of this decision. They’ve been at this back-and-forth banter since the day I claimed them. They’re my angel and devil, though up until now, Lyra is who I tend to side with.
“I may be stalling slightly,” I mutter under my breath, letting the weight of them anchor me. I won’t be alone even if I go…they’ll always be with me. “I just don’t want to have any regrets.”
Lyra hums with approval while Kael groans like I’ve just ruined his favorite game.
“You’ll never regret taking a risk that puts you on the path to enjoying your life,” he counters. “Sure, there may be minorinconveniences, but that’s what you want. You want to see the messy sides of the world, right?”
Lyra’s voice is drier than I’ve ever heard it in response. “I wouldn’t consider the potential of death by the hunters’ hands a minor inconvenience.”
They’re both right. I’m not invincible, but some things are worth risking.
I let their voices pull me in opposite directions until the tension in my chest builds. With a slow exhale, I will them back into the ether. Thankfully they can’t talk to me at all times–unlike my mom’s soul sword–or else I’d go insane.
My gaze drops to the portal ring on my finger. The metal is cool, but it carries a weight that’s heavier than its slim size–a promise, an escape, a single breath’s decision between here and there.
I know what I want to do, but I can still feel the way my mom’s tearful gaze pinned me in place when she said,“I’d rather you resent me than force me to attend the funeral of my child.”
My heart is heavy in my chest as I glance back at the bed. For a brief moment my hand lifts toward the gown, ready to shove myself back into the mold I’ve slowly grown out of. But panic sets in instantly, causing me to yank my hand back.
I can’t do it any longer. I can’t be Briar Van Helsing, the princess.
“I just want to figure out who I am,” I mutter, my eyes stinging with the heat of oncoming tears.
Quickly I brush them away and straighten my spine. I’ve shed too many tears and spent too many nights lying awake, agonizing over this decision.
