Stepping over the threshold, I almost expect some sort of invisible trap to be waiting there, or even Callum to be on the couch, but then again, that would be almost the same thing. Quickly closing the door behind me, I switch the deadbolt to lock—not that it would deter anyone from entering—just to give myself some peace of mind.
The home appears to be seemingly untouched, no signs of anyone being in here since the last time I was. It’s a strange feeling, taking in the inanimate objects and having that pull a memory out that was long forgotten. The couch, where I faceplanted after thinking I would die after my first training session with Donni, and also where Callum would sit, reading a book while I stuffed my face with whatever food was waiting for me. That thought elicits another growl from my stomach.
I can’t wait to get my hands on those forest buns. Unsurprisingly, the fridge and cabinets are all scarce of food—not even a box of crackers. Slumping in defeat, I snag a glass and drink a few cups of water, noting that I am severely dehydrated and I need to say on top of that. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand before placing the glass in the sink. My brows pull together curiously, noticing that the dishes from the last time we were here are no longer resting at the bottom of the basin.
So someonehasbeen here.
Leaning up against the counter, my eyes wander around the small area, remembering the turning point—or rather breakthrough—that happened in this very room. It was slow, steady, and unexpected but completely inevitable all at once. His touch, his smell, the fear I felt when the power justtookover—and how the terrifying thought of not being able to stop trickled in.
My attention deviates, nose scrunching when I catch the scent of something completely foul. Surely, it can’t be from rotting food—I just checked everywhere. But one more sniff leads me to finding the culprit.
I’m absolutely rank! I don’t know how I didn’t notice it before, but come to think of it, I haven’t showered since Vaiterra.
Moving toward the hallway, my eyes ping-pong between the forbidden door—the one that’s been enticing me since the moment I saw it—and the door at the end of the hall. But then the bedroom calls to me, knowing that’s where the shower I not only want but desperately need is.
The shower wins.
Nearly running down the hallway, I ignore the discreet calling of the door as I pass and stop toe to toe with the bedroom door, all the emotions I was feeling before entering the home flooding back in an instant.
This is all so stupid. It’s just a house, just a room. Of coursethey hold stupid memories that make me have all of these conflicting feelings, but still. I’m not sure how to navigate everything. It’s like my brain is divided, and each side is fighting for the other’s territory.
“Fuck!” I scream at the door, loving how the sound ricochets off the beautiful wall made of glass. I twist the doorknob fast, like it is scorching hot and I don’t want to get burned, quick and painless. Stepping in, my eyes track over every inch of the room, waves of the memories it holds coming back like a flash flood.
I nearly jump out of my skin when flames erupt in the fireplace, instantly warming the room. Fire licks up my arms from the fright, anticipating an attack. My shoulders slump with a breath of relief once it sinks in that I’m by myself. Callum probably has some sort of magic charm on the place—which would explain a lot. But what do I know?
Turning my head to my left, I beeline for the bathroom. I’m not embarrassed to admit the whimper that escapes at the sight of the shower, from both longing for the scalding-hot water, but also from the few times Callum and I showered together, which causes my cheeks to heat.
Turning on the hot water, I strip off the clothes Aslan gave to me, throwing them haphazardly on the black tile. I make sure to place my sheath in the cabinet beneath the sink—just in case—before stepping under the hot stream. Instantly, all my muscles relax, and in here, it’s like my own little world. Somewhere I can escape to, leaving all the other issues on the outside of the glass door once it’s shut.
All the problems, impending doom, unanswered questions, and lack of direction all melt away with the dirt and grime I scrub from my flesh. And then once I’m all clean, there’s no telling how much time passes, because if it were up to me, I’d never leave.
The water never got cold, and it was a luxury I took full advantage of. Wrapping myself in a towel, my feet pad against the tile, and water drips from my unbound hair on my way to the closet. It is still full of his clothes—his scent—but also, my dresser sits right up against the center wall, full of the clothes I had before this life, the ones I find comfort in and would love to wear. However, I don’t think leggings and a graphic tee would be the best outfit choice for what’s to come.
Resting on top are the clothes Donni gave me, three sets of black leathers that are apparently the only thing in this realm that is considered reasonable attire for anybody other than the working class. Drying myself off the best I can, I wrap my hair up in the towel while I fight for my life, trying to put the pants on. It’s truly like magic, the way they mold to every curve of my body, the bodice fitting just the same once I finally get it over my head.
Exhaling a sigh of relief with hints of exhaustion, I pick up the pace, going back into the bathroom and braiding my hair once down the middle, not having the energy to do two. Finishing up in the bathroom, I grab my sheath from under the sink and secure it around my thigh, its weight comforting.
I stare at myself in the mirror, analyzing myself once again, like I did all those months ago. How I’ve changed, how my perspective on everything has changed. I should’ve known the second my feet hit the magical soil that nothing was ever going to be the same. But I was naive to think that none of this was as serious as it’s become. The point of my ears classifies me as a species I never knew existed, and by now, I should be used to it, and I am—with everyone else. But I’ve never seen them with features other than this—aside from Callum—but for me, my human features were all I’ve ever known.
Anger begins to build, and it takes over, tossing all sense of reason out the window as I send my fist flying at my reflection. The glass splinters, webbing out from the center, and I don’t even feel the sting that the impact should bring. Instead, I’m just numb, not even a wave of satisfaction.
Voraxis? I could really use you right now.My voice is soft with hints of pleading mixed in. But the connection stays radio silent, and it’s soul hollowing. My knuckles bleed, but I let it drip onto the bathroom floor, then into the bedroom and down the hall, knowing it will heal on its own soon enough.
My steps halt once I reach the only other door in the house—locked and holding secrets. But that knowledge only feeds the rage brewing, and I hardly have to think, all the emotion coming to fruition as I blast the door down. Wood splinters from the explosion, and I berate myself for not trying that earlier. But then again, I didn’t want Callum to know I was snooping. Now, I have zero fucks to give.
Rogue jagged pieces fly in my direction, and I fling my arms up, attempting to shield my face, but instead, it surrounds my whole body. A bubble encompasses my form as I stare down the staircase that was laying in wait behind the door. A smirk plays on my lips. “Alright, Cal, let’s see what else you’ve been hiding.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Kallie
A pitch-black abyss burns my retinas with a vengeance as I stare down the wooden stairs. Only a few worn planks are visible before disappearing into the darkness, and the set of rotting posts do nothing to ease the bone-churning anxiety taking hold. Fire appears in my palm on a silent command, lighting up the small distance in front of me. With a final, sharp exhale, my feet carry me down one step at a time. The stairs creak beneath my weight, and I swear the eerie silence gets louder as the door grows farther away.
The roughly twenty steps seem never ending as I finally reach the bottom, taking what feels like my first breath since I was standing at the threshold. It was smart blowing the door off its hinges; now there’s no chance of it getting closed. Locked. And that’s the only thing keeping me sane at the moment.
A noise sounds to my right, and I turn instantly, eyes widening even bigger, begging for them to make out a shape that is realand not something my mind has made up. My other hand runs along one of the posts holding the staircase up, attempting to find a light switch somewhere, but all I get is a splinter in my finger.
“Shit,” I hiss, snapping my hand back to my chest. Whatever made the noise doesn’t sound for the next few seconds, and I battle with myself if I should investigate further. But ultimately, I chalk it up to my mind playing another one of its humorless jokes.
