I stagger to my feet and cross the room, one hand trailing along the wall to keep me steady.
I almost fall twice.
The window is slightly cracked, the glass fogged over like frozen smoke trapped between the panes. Etched right in the center of the mist is a perfectly drawn heart, and from its bottom point, little beads of water slide slowly downward like icy tears.
Maybe I’m more like my mother than I thought.
Seeing ghosts where there are none.
“But you’re not crazy, little dove, you’re just finally ready to wake up.”
My nails bite into my palms.
“Stop calling me that,” I rasp,
“It’s just us now. No games. No Andrik. No soulbonds. Just you remembering who you were made for.”
The voice sounds like it’s coming from right behind me, slipping in my ear, threading through my hair like a cold, invisible wire.
I press my forehead to the wall so I don’t have to stare at the heart anymore.
“You’re not real. You can’t be real.”
A low chuckle.
“If I’m not real, who are you talking to?”
I jerk away from the wall, reaching for the window lock, but it‘s stuck. My pulse is thudding so loud it bleeds over everything else.
“Don’t lock me out, Lumi,” the voice croons, “I belong inside... with you.”
Andrik’s growl vibrates through the cabin, my gaze instinctively flicks toward the bedroom door, but a single, sharp tap—like a nail against the glass—snaps my attention back to the window.
And there it is, staring straight back at me...
Nothing but my own reflection.
Andrik-
“Damnit, Lumi, unlock the door!”
I’d only been downstairs for a few minutes, long enough to grab healing ointment for her shoulder. Her cut was starting to look infected.
When I got back to the bedroom, the door was locked. I can hear her whispering, a mumbled, terrified sound.
I could easily tear this door off its hinges, but I refuse to be the reason for her fear, especially after what happened last night.
“Lumi,” I say again, lowering my voice. “Please.Velorin. You’re home. Let me in.”
She doesn’t respond.
I press my hand to the warm wood. I can hear her breathing erratically, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. My instincts are roaring inside me. My claws threaten to break the skin.
“Lûvenkae, if you don’t open this door, I’m breaking it down.”
I wait a few more seconds, but then her panic spikes.
I drop the jar to the floor. “Forgive me, Saelûn,” I whisper.
