But I take the box anyway, carrying it over to the bed and setting it down on the comforter.
I sit cross-legged in front of it, my hands shaking as I pick up the first slice.
The cheese stretches as I lift it, strands clinging to the rest of the pizza before breaking away.
I take a bite.
The flavors explode on my tongue. It's perfect.
I close my eyes and let out a small, broken sound that's halfway between a laugh and a sob.
Like Saturday nights when my mom would come home with a pizza box and we'd sit on the couch together, watching old movies on her laptop.
I eat another bite. Then another.
The TV plays in the background as I wiggle my toes and devour my pizza.
Once I've had as much as I can, I close the box, setting it on the floor beside the bed.
My eyelids are heavy now, my body full, as I sink deeper into the mattress.
I rest my head on the pillow, keeping my eyes on the TV.
The voices soon become distant and blurred.
I close my eyes and eventually, I drift off.
I hear a noise and my eyes shoot open.
I'm in the woods, running barefoot through pine needles, the bark slicing into my feet. My breath clouds in the air, white and frantic. The branches tear at my arms.
Behind me, I hear it, the chanting.
I feel it vibrating like it's coming from inside my bones.
The Morrígan sees all.
The Morrígan decides all.
The Morrígan chooses the sacrifice.
I run faster, my lungs burning, but it doesn't matter.
The voices are getting louder.
"Zaria!"
I turn to see Cormac behind me.
I trip, my foot catching on a root, and I fall hard, my knees slamming into the dirt.
"Zaria. Come, daughter of the flame. Daughter of the prophecy."
I try to crawl, try to get up, but my body won't move.
I wait for him to take me.
To drag me back to the fire.
