My body jerked upright in bed, the scream I couldn’t let out tearing from my throat with full force this time.
Sweat rolled underneath my shirt, the blanket tangled at my knees. My hand clutched my chest, where it felt as if something had been stabbed straight through. My heart wouldn’t slow. My chest was in pain, like the arrow had pivoted and gone through me instead.
I glanced around the room, wild-eyed, disoriented.
Why does it hurt? That wasn’t my dream. That didn’t feel like my dream. That wasn’t my memory.
What the hell was that?
I stared at the door for half a second before launching myself out of bed. The ache in my chest throbbed with every breath as I crossed the room, flung the door open, and stormed out into the hallway.
I knocked on Thrax’s door. No answer.
I tried the bathroom. No sound.
I went down the stairs but there was no sign of him. Sunlight filtered in from the windows, telling me I’d slept through the morning and it was afternoon, nearing evening.
Where did he go?
What “unfinished business” did he have since before dawn?
Going back to my room, I waited.
Two hours passed.
Still no Thrax.
Eventually, I ran myself a bath, got dressed and stepped outside.
I couldn’t sit on my hands anymore.
Whatever was happening to me, I had to know what it was and meet it head-on.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SANORA
Before I left the house, I’d documented everything I’d come across since reaching Nimorran, including my encounter with Thrax, down to the messenger. I didn’t know if I’d survive this place, and if I didn’t, I wanted the only person I cared about to know what happened to me.
Everything I’d written had been copied into an email, scheduled to send to my mother the day after I was meant to leave. Just in case I never got the chance. But I hoped I did. I didn’t want her to read those things I wrote.
It was creeping towards evening when I walked into a small café and pleaded for the owner's presence. My notebook rested beside a melting bowl of ice cream the owner had given me out of hospitality while I waited for her to get free. Inside the notebook were scribbles and notes from my afternoon spent knocking on doors, asking questions about the deaths near The Crater.
A few had let me in. Most had slammed the door in my face, yelling like I was some kind of curse they didn’t want near their threshold. If they hated hearing about The Crater so much, why the hell were they still living right next to it?
So far, five people had spoken to me. Two out of impatience, and three with genuine effort, but they had told me things I already knew. Ten had shut me out though.
But who’s counting?
I looked up as the café owner approached, wiping her palms down her red apron. She offered a tired smile and took the seat opposite me. Her hair was scraped into a bun, a pair of glasses framing her kind eyes. Something about that gaze eased the tension in my shoulders.
She leaned in, resting her hands on the table. “You wanted to see me?”
“Yes,” I said brightly, snapping my notebook shut. “Only if you’re comfortable, though. It’s totally fine if you’re not. I’m going to pack my things and leave, you just need to say the word. I can—”
“This is about The Crater, isn’t it?” Her brows pinched slightly.
My mouth fell open. “How’d you guess?”
