KAEL
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
I can hear the inner workings of a clock, but there aren’t any in our living room. There never have been. It’s almost as though my brain has conjured the sound, reminding me that I’m on borrowed time, and I can’t hide away from it.
That’s probably why I haven’t moved from my spot on the sofa. It’s no longer laid out like a bed, but Elodie’s scent still fills the air, overwhelming my senses and leaving me shattered inside.
I know I need to move, I know I need to do something, but it’s like I’m rooted to the spot, unable to gather the necessary strength to do what is right: save Elodie. But with that comes another act that has always felt impossible: defy Jude.
My leg bounces with stress as I dip my chin to my chest, raking my fingers through the ends of my hair, but it does nothing to alleviate my dismay.
Defying Jude shouldn’t be so difficult, yet one quick reminder of where my parents are is all it takes to remind me that doing so comes with consequences, and some of them are a price I’m just not ready to pay. If he sees that Elodie is importantto me—which she’s not—he will only use it against me, harming her more.
Right now, she’s a beautified weapon he wants to exploit, which sounds terrible, but to him, it’s glorified and stunning. He’ll treat her well. Encourage her magic, sure, but he won’t hurt her. If he thinks I’m anything but her guardian, everything changes for the both of us. My brother has never been one to share an interest with someone else.
He has always been different, even when we were small. If he was playing with cars and I took interest, he would smash them all up so no one could play with them. That manifested as we grew, his rage uncontrollable, his desire for control unwavering.
I sigh as my gut churns, a memory coming to mind as my eyelids close and the vision dances across the blank canvas.
Waves crash in the distance and I pull my scarf more tightly around my neck in order to fight the chill in the air. I hate the cold. I hate having to wear a scarf even more. I don’t know why we’re here, I don’t know why any of this matters, but the low-sitting clouds and sharp cliffs only create a backdrop of pensive shadows. Looking down at the water, I watch as the waves start deep, a shade of navy I’ve never seen anywhere else. Before they rise, creating a white peak that shatters against the jagged shoreline, reminding me that even the most intense can crumble.
I wonder if Scotland looks lush and green in the summer, or whether it faces this harsh climate like an eternal vortex of storms, each one making it more dramatic and seeped in indescribable beauty.
Sighing, I glance over my shoulder to the small stone house, spying the silhouettes of my mother and father in the window. They talk animatedly with their hands as men and women listen in wonder, absorbing every word they have to offer. I wish I believed in them as much as everyone else does, but Iknow nothing good will come from us being here; nothing ever does.
The moment I was taken out of school because of my brother’s antics, I knew my future was no longer my own. Not that it’s all because of him. My parents’ defiance against The Sanctum is another reason, but my hatred for my brother runs deeper, so he gets all of my rage right now.
I run my tongue over my chapped lips, wrapping my coat tighter around my middle as I turn back to the water. I wish it held the answers no one else will give. I’m a preacher of my parents’ activist group, whether I like it or not.
The Obsidian Circle.
It doesn’t matter if I agree or not; legacy deems me a disciple.
Another shiver runs down my spine as the wind whips around me, and despite my better judgment, I storm back toward the shack, shutting the door behind me as quietly as I can. A second door stands to my right, blocking me from the gathering, while the staircase dead ahead lures me closer. I raise my foot, ready to take the first step, but before I can wince at the creak I know it will make, my father’s voice carries through the air, pausing me in my tracks.
“We can’t allow The Sanctum to continue to get away with this. We may be supernatural beings, but if we wish to live among the humans, that’s our choice. We don’t want to cause trouble or harm to anyone else; we want to live our lives, but forcing us to continue enduring their world that only they control and manipulate is too far.” A hum of agreement echoes from the other side of the door. “I don’t want it for my children, do you want it for yours?” he adds, his voice getting louder as the hums turn to cheers, everyone delighting in their combined mindset.
I shake my head, sticking to the side of the stairs as I hurry up and away from them before I’m dragged into the madness with them.
I understand what they’re saying, I agree with it, but to get what they want from the matter, to end The Sanctum and cut off The Vale, there’s only one path they can take: war. I’m twelve, war isn’t what I want. I want to be with my peers, making stupid mistakes and cultivating my abilities. I want to grow stronger for myself, not for a cause that accepts I may die for its truth.
Hurrying into my room, I let the door fall shut behind me, only to startle at the figure spread across my bed. I cover my surprise and glare at the grinning form staring back at me. It’s a tiny space, barely enough room for a twin bed, a nightstand, and a worn oak chest of drawers. The curtain is plastered to the window in a desperate attempt to keep the heat in, but warmth feels like a distant memory; one I hope to embrace when everyone leaves and I get to sit in front of the fire downstairs.
“Get out, Jude,” I grunt, rubbing my hands together.
He slowly shifts to a sitting position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. That’s when I get a proper look at him and stumble back a step, my spine hitting the door with a thud as I take in the state of him.
Blood clings to every inch of him. It’s stained across his cheeks, down his throat, and into his green knit sweater. It’s still fresh in the tips of his hair, the palms of his hands, and the laces of his shoes. If it were anyone else, I would be worried over what happened, but with Jude, I already know the answer.
“How many?” I bite, trying as hard as I can to stop my bottom lip from wobbling, but he snickers nonetheless. “How many?” I repeat, and he shrugs, rising to his full height as hecuts the distance between us. He’s only five years older than me, but it feels like a thousand with how different we are.
He crouches down so we’re eye level, a devilish grin on his lips as he stares deep into my soul. “I stopped counting at fifty,” he whispers, a cackle quickly following as he reaches for the door handle.
“You should be ashamed of yourself,” I splutter, fully aware he’s tallying humans and not animals like our parents have raised us to, and he scoffs.
He levels me with that same stare, but the grin is gone and the atmosphere thickens with promise. “Stop being the golden child, Kael. It won’t get you anywhere, especially not when I take my rightful place.”
My eyebrows furrow as I blink at him. “Your rightful place?” I repeat, and he nods.
