"She’ll break, Harper-stop, just forget, please-"
The floor rises and falls beneath me. My breath comes in broken, shallow gasps. My body curls inward, fighting the pain, fighting the noise, fighting the memory that is no longer just a memory.
His golden eyes dim, then flare, then dim again, pulsing with something that feels horribly synchronized with the throbbing inside my skull.
I try to push myself up.
My arms give out.
The world folds.
And everything collapses into darkness.
The memory does not driftinto me, it tears into me, flooding every corner of my mind with a force so violent I can’t tell where the present ends and the past begins. The world around me dissolves, and suddenly I’m small again, barefoot on polished marble floors, standing beneath the vaulted ceilings of our manor. The air smells the same, smoke, candle wax, and a sweetness that used to make my stomach twist. The walls glow amber from lantern light. Shadows slide along them like they remember everything.
Faces from another lifetime step into focus. The Harwoods. Their presence fills the corridor just beyond the study, their voices trembling with fear I was too young to understand at the time. Mrs.Harwood clutches her husband’s arm so tightly her knuckles are white, her eyes red with unshed tears. They were frequent guests, gentle, warm, the only adults who ever looked at Liam and me as though we were children rather than experiments waiting to be proven useful.
Their children… gods, I can see them too. Two small figures lingering near the staircase behind me. Anne holding the hem of her dress nervously. Sebastian leaning against the wall with that crooked, downward smile, the one that always tilted as though he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be happy.
We spent every stolen moment together in those days. Liam with Anne, playing games I never had interest in. Sebastian and I slipping through the manor’s cracks like light, running toward hidden gardens and forgotten corners where we could pretend we weren’t born into monsters’ homes. We were just children, but the world felt impossibly large with him beside me. He’d laugh, quietly at first, then louder when he felt safe, and he always let me drag him toward whatever new hiding spot I had discovered. Sometimes we kissed, clumsy and innocent and breathless, tucked behind rose bushes or between stacks of old crates in the cellar. He smelled like fresh parchment and summer grass. I didn’t know what love was, but I knew I wanted him near me forever.
And then the manor shifted.
The memory sharpens, snapping into horrifying clarity.
The study door slams. My father’s voice ricochets off the walls. I press myself against the cold stone and inch closer, heart pounding so loudly I’m sure they’ll hear it.
“We won’t keep participating, Andrew.” Mrs. Harwood’s voice quivers, but she stands her ground.
It’s summer. Warm air pushes through the open windows. Sunset paints the floor in gold, but nothing feels bright.
“We made a deal,” my father growls. His fist crashes against the desk with such force the lanterns flicker.
“We won’t take part in the mass execution of Vireldan for yourtwisted spells. We have children-” Mr. Harwood tries, voice cracking.
“And I’m sure you’d like to keep them alive.” My father’s tone drops into something so cold it makes my skin prickle.
My breath stops.
“What’s going on?” Sebastian whispers beside me. I hadn’t heard him approach. His brown-green eyes search mine, confusion sharpening into fear.
“You need to go,” I breathe, reaching for his hand. “Take Anne. Find Locke. Now.”
But he catches my face in his hands, forcing me to focus on him. His thumbs stroke my cheeks, gentle, grounding. “Harper, are you all right? What’s happening?”
I can’t answer. Mrs. Harwood screams, a sound so raw it cuts me in half. Liam appears at the top of the stairs, dragging Anne into the hallway, both of them white-faced and terrified. He looks ready to run toward the chaos, but then a sickening thud hits the wall, and everything stops.
Together, the four of us inch toward the study. The door is open. Blood gleams on the floor.
Anne whimpers. Sebastian stiffens beside me, breath shaking. Liam positions himself in front of us, his body small but defiant.
My father steps out first, dragging something behind him.
No. Someone.
Mr. Harwood’s limp body leaves a crimson streak across the floorboards. His head lolls unnaturally. His eyes are already empty.
My mother appears behind him, expression serene, as though nothing has happened. She pushes Mrs. Harwood forward by the shoulder, straight toward the doorway, straight toward us.
