“Do you live here?”
No response.
“Where are we going?”
The girl ignores all my questions as we walk, and my magic flares inside of my body. We approach the guest cottage, a single light illuminating one of the rooms on the second floor.
“Let’s stop here,” I say to the girl. “These are my friends.”
She looks up at me, and I can finally see her now. My blood turns ice cold, and my magic dies, retreating deep into my core, hiding at what I see.
What I thought were dark eyes are just hollowed-out sockets where her eyes should be. Her smile reveals sharp teeth, sharper than any animal I’ve ever seen, ending in points.
I can’t look away from her. I can’t move. I can’t scream.
She says in that same high-pitched voice, “Are they?” She begins to move down the path again, but something snaps in me.
I begin to resist, trying to break her grasp, but her hold doesn’t break. I reach for my magic, but I can’t grasp anything. It’s like it fled as soon as it saw her eyes. Panic floods my senses, and I dig my heels into the ground, desperately trying to yank my arm from her grasp. My breath is coming quicker now, and I feel myself fighting off a panic attack. I need to remain in control. I need to think. I need to get the fuck away from this…thing.
Wicked things are afoot. Evil is coming…
“Your High King awaits,” she repeats, but this time, her voice is low and demonic, no longer the high pitch of a little girl. Her grip on my forearm tightens as she yanks me down the path.
“No!” I yell. Fuck this. I will not go without a fight.
Since my magic is nowhere to be found, I do the next best thing.
I scream. “HELP!”
The girl snarls at me and tightens her grip. I cry out in pain. She yanks me so hard that I stumble toward her.
Oh, absolutely not.
“HELP!” I yell again, praying to the Mother that someone will hear me.
She pulls me again, and we stumble down the path. Further and further from the guest cottage. I scream again. She tightens her grip on me, and agony floods my senses as she burns my arm.
I scream from the pain.
“Keep screaming, little queen,” the thing says, voice deep and guttural. “Your screams are music to m—"
The thing’s head is gone, cleanly separated from its body.
I look around, pain and panic threatening to overwhelm me. I want to cry, but I can’t. What the fuck just happened? I try to run back down the path, but the thing’s arm is still attached to me.
I peel at the fingers, but they’re too stiff, and my hands are too shaky to peel each one. I’m fighting back tears, desperate to get away from this thing.
Footsteps are quickly approaching. Someone’s running toward me, but all I can do is focus on the hand still gripping my arm, my skin bubbling underneath it.
“Mae!”
I whip my head toward the sound. Asmo is running toward me. His eyes look crazed, panicked. “Are you okay?” he asks, rushing to me.
I don’t respond. I can’t speak.
His hands cup my cheeks, forcing me to look at him. “Are you okay?” he repeats. I nod, but I’m holding back tears.
He steps back, visually inspecting me.
