by Sacha Black
The light trembles, the temperature plummets. Ice crawls up the walls, freezing the ancient trees that make the walls of our cabin. Trey is clothed, stood with his back against the wall. My hands are around his neck. Sheridan appears, in the corner of the room. I glance at her, unable to call for help. Trey’s lips turn blue. He doesn’t fight. His eyes are round, sad as he touches my cheek. “One of us has to die,” he says.
“No,” I scream, “NO.”
But no matter how much I fight to pull my hands away my grip on his neck tightens until his blue lips turn gray, and his body sinks to the floor.
I wake, panting, a pool of cold sweat at the back of my neck. There's a rich orange glow coming from the window, the sunrise flirting with the horizon. But the room is cold; morning isn't quite ready to arrive yet. The first chirps of dawn birds whistle through the canopy outside bringing the smell of dew and wet earth. I roll over and touch my hand to Trey's chest; his heart is still beating, once, twice, three times. He takes slow, deep breaths like he's thick with sleep. I kiss his forehead and roll over to reach my CogTracker. It's 4:30AM. I debate sending Sheridan a message at this time of night, but given she saw my dream, I suspect she's awake.
I saw you in my dream. Why did Trey let me kill him this time? I also don’t recall him speaking in any of the others? Oh, and there's been more developments. Yesterday morning there was a streak of Imbalance in the sky, I’m sure you saw the First Fallon’s announcement. But the streak was like my dreams. I've had to tell Arden.
I re-read it quickly and send it. Then I follow it up with a second message.
Oh, and I have a bone to pick with you… Don’t suppose you have anything to do with me meeting a certain Castor Jameson, do you?
Before I even put the CogTracker down, it vibrates in my hand.
No idea what you’re talking about…
Ha. So it was her. She replies again.
On a serious note, I am extremely concerned that the Imbalance has now spread. Based on the twin case, I’m inclined to think that there is a prophetic basis to your dreams. Correct me if I'm wrong, but in your dreams, the deterioration of Trutinor takes some time? That's a good thing, but all the more reason to do something now. I think we need to meet to see if we can figure out what's causing it. Maybe we can halt the decay, or slow it? There's a method, not used often, but I might be able to put you into a forced sleep state to make you dream for a longer period. It would give us a chance to explore your vision. I think I can create a spell to make you lucid so you can control where you go. Give me some time. I'll investigate. S x
You’re up late.
Guess you’re not the only bad sleeper. Ironic, hey, Eden?
I hate that he told me one of us has to die.
I know.
You know?
No one wants to hear their Balancer say that, but honestly, Eden, I still think Trey’s not the prophetic part of your dreams. You just lost your parents, it’s natural to be afraid of losing the people you love.
Mmm.
Mmm?
Not convinced.
Am I going to be able to convince you before dawn?
No…
Then, I’m going to take a snooze before Felicia starts snoring again.
Ha! I hear earplugs are a winner. Night, Sheridan. x
I’ll get some tomorrow. May your dreams be Balanced, Eden. x
I turn over. Then roll back again and pick up the CogTracker typing out another message to her.
You’re such a liar by the way… I knew as soon as I got into the camp it was you.
No comment.
I think you know more about them than you’re saying…
Possibly. Maybe. Who knows.
You’re not going to tell me?
Not over CogTracker.
Okay. I think I want to know more.
In that case, I think I can tell you more. Night, Eden. X
Night. X
Trey’s eyes are wide open looking at me. I jump, and yelp, “Some warning would be nice.”
He laughs, then grabs me, and slides me under his body. He kisses me hard and fast, his hands gently tugging through the back of my hair as his mouth wanders over my skin.
“I want you,” he whispers into my ear before kissing gently down my neck.
“I’m already yours.”
His hand strokes down my thigh before pulling my leg up against his hip. I slide my ankle around his thigh, holding him in place. His eyes burn fiery blue. I reach up to his stubble and pull his head down, so his lips hover above mine.
"Let go of your guard," I say, and as I kiss him, he does. My back arches as a wave of his emotions hit me. It’s intense, addictive, and consumes me; his love isn't just strong, it's ferocious.
He draws his mouth over my collarbone, leaving a trail of hot kisses in his wake. I pull him back to my lips, pushing his mouth open so our tongues can slide over each other. Then he moves inside me, and our essences and emotions flow and mingle together with bursts of static and fire I can't help releasing.
When we wake the second time, the room is warm, and light pours in through the cabin windows. I climb out of bed and grab a pile of spare clothes from a shelf and pull on a pair of loose pants and a cotton top that's far too big for me. Trey rolls over and rubs his face. His hair is a mess, all ruffled and sticking out with stubble appearing. It's adorable.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he says.
“Because I’m having to force myself not to get undressed and climb back into bed with you.”
“Shame. I’d have made it worth your while.”
I throw a pair of jeans at him, “Don’t tempt me. Get dressed. Come on. We need to interrogate Victor.”
Once he’s dressed, we raid the kitchen area for some fruit and two quick cups of coffee. I check my CogTracker and find a message from Arden.
From: [email protected]
Subject: RE: We need to talk
To: [email protected]
We'll discuss the dreams and Trutinor's health once we've found Nyx and put a stop to Victor opening The Door of Fates. Several of the Guild Sorcerers are working on the streak. I've sent them and Jacobs back to the Guild to examine the dead plants in more detail and establish where the source is coming from. They're also going to investigate whether there have been any other cases like it in the past.
* * *
I’m heading to Datch now. Titus is already there… in a cell. Don’t worry, he’s fine, and it’s only temporary. When he saw Victor being taken into the prison, he lost it and tried to attack him. The Datch guards locked him up for the night until he calmed down. Bo is there too. I've told the guards you’re coming. But, umm… The First Fallon is there, and she intends to question Victor. I'd hurry.
* * *
See you soon
* * *
Arden
"We need to go," I say to Trey, urging us out the door. Trey contacts Magnus who agrees to meet us at the lake's station. On route, I update Trey on everything. The night I spent with Sheridan, the research she’s done since, and everything Arden’s said. He nods along in agreement as I tell him that the Guild is looking for the source of Imbalance, and finally, I tell him about the forced dream state Sheridan suggested. I go on to explain about last night’s dream, how he let me kill him and told me one of us had to die. A flash of hesitation passes across his eyes. Up until now, he's been so dismissive, telling me everything’s fine; they’re just dreams. But something hovers below the surface of his eyes: fear. For the first time since I had the nightmares, Trey's afraid. And that, more than anything, terrifies me.
Twenty-Seven
‘Founded in the year 1111, Datch Prison was created to house the most criminally dangerous, insane, and demonic. Legend says the bricks were crafted from the blood of the First Fallon herself, and the doors were made from enchanted crystal wept from the tears of the Last Fallon after she was banished.’
Excerpt - Myths and Lege
nds of Trutinor
Magnus drops us at Datch station in the early afternoon. The prison itself is on a solitary island one mile out in the Blood Ocean. It’s a short walk from the station to the bridge that leads us to the prison. As we reach the edge of the Southern State the wind whips off the sea spraying our cheeks with salt and fishy smelling water. I really hate fish. A bridge looms above us, all sharp lines of crystal and silver. Towering pillars jut into the sea and up through the sky to form the structural support for the bridge while silvery steel cables stretch like trapeze wires down to the bridge foundations. I slip my hand into Trey's.
“You need to keep control if we’re going in there,” he says under his breath.
“I know,” I say, “of all people, I know that.”
“Then why are you squeezing my hand so hard I’ve got pins and needles?”
“Sorry,” I say, glancing down at our hands. “It’s just… He nearly killed you…”
“But he didn’t.”
I glare at Trey, "That's not the point."
“Look,” he says, waving our clasped hands, “I’m fine. We’re fine, and he’s in there.”
“I know,” I say, and step onto the bridge.
Giant crystal walls protect us on all sides while giving us a view of the ocean underneath. The water froths and spits as if a war rages beneath the surface and if I think about all the creatures lurking below us, there probably is. The Blood Ocean is only good for housing monsters that dwell in the nightmares of the murky seabed. I grip the bridge's railing harder. A shroud of mist billows out from Datch Island, spilling over the bridge and swallowing us into its cloudy cloak. The temperature drops, making me shiver.
We step onto Datch Island; it's so small that the prison complex fills the entire isle. The whole outcrop is made of dark pitted rocks, and the only signs of life are stray seagulls stained red from the ocean.
Three dark brick towers wrapped in layers of electrified barbed wire stand like stone giants in the center of the island. Tiny CogCameras fly through the air, speeding around the building watching for any stray movement. It fills the air with a drone-like hum. A small comfort to know we're safe and watched.
We enter the exterior gates and walk through another area with electrified fencing on both sides. After being searched, scanned, prodded, and rescanned, we're allowed to enter the prison itself. We stand at the base of one of the hollowed out circular towers. In the center of the tower, is a spiral staircase that, if I crane my neck, stretches all the way to the roof. Around the edges of the tower in circular rings are the cells, floor after floor of dank stone cells and crystal doors for bars. Dirty faces of Keepers and strange creatures peer out, all of their eyes straining to stare down at us. It makes my skin shiver.
On one side of the room is Arden, talking to several guards, and on the other side is Bo. She’s yanking and pulling at her prosthetic leg.
“Wait here a minute,” I say to Trey, “I’m just going to see if Bo’s okay.”
“I’ll go check on Titus if you like?”
“That would be great,” I say as I walk over to Bo.
She’s mumbling to herself, pulling and shaking the leg. As I reach her, she punches the leg with her fist, and the whirring and clicking grind to a halt. She throws the leg down onto the damp stone flooring where it clatters and rolls to a stop at my feet. That’s when I notice there’s a bandage around her stump, and it’s stained with a yellowy blister colored fluid.
"Are you okay?" I ask, picking up the leg. Her face is cold and hard, and she's not wearing any lipstick; her appearance takes me by surprise. "What's going on?"
“You wouldn’t understand,” she snaps, and snatches the leg from me.
I frown, taken aback by her sudden anger.
“You, with your perfect life and your perfect Trey. You might’ve got everything you want, but did you ever stop to think about what you had to take from everyone else to get it?”
What the fuck?
“Hold on a minute, Bo,” I say, edging away from her. “My life is far from perfect. I lost my parents.”
"Yeah, and I lost my brother because you stole my blood to kill him. Did you really think I could forgive you just like that?"
This time, it’s my face that hardens. My eyes darken as the vault twitches in my subconscious. I speak very slowly so as not to mistake a single word. “You knowingly gave my parents your blood so they could commit suicide, Bo. I think that makes us even.”
"Does it though? I didn't kill your parents with my bare hands. And you didn't lose a limb trying to protect your Balancer…" At that, her voice cracks and breaks, and I realize this isn't really about Victor or our parents but about how she's coping. All at once my anger disappears. My chest tightens, and I put my head in my hands, my throat thickening with all the things I should have said and done for her. I take a deep breath and look up at her.
"I am so sorry, Bo. I thought you were okay. You came out of the hospital and seemed so strong; you just got on with everything and never asked for help or support. I thought you didn't need me."
"Well, I did. And you should have been there," she spits, but her voice is softening, and the tears trickle down her cheeks. "But maybe I should have asked. And for once, agreeing not to talk about what happened between our families was a dumb idea. I'm responsible for helping to end your parents’ lives, and you killed my brother. We can't keep brushing these things under the carpet."
“Please don’t walk away from our friendship, Bo, I don’t want to lose you too,” I say, pleading with her. My voice is small, “We agreed not to talk about it because we didn’t want it to affect our friendship.”
"That's the thing, Eden; it has affected our friendship."
She affixes the prosthetic leg, wincing as she does, and stands up. She wobbles. I reach out to grab her, but she swats my hand away.
“I need time,” she says, and walks to the center of the room, taking the lift, leaving me staring after her.
Twenty-Eight
‘Keep your friends close but your enemies closer.’
Michael Corleone, The Godfather II – Human film
From across the circular room, Trey spots Bo stalking off and walks over to me. “What happened?” he asks.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, standing up.
“What happened to us not keeping things from each other?”
I look at him. Really? He chooses now to throw my words back at me? All I want to do is talk to Victor and get Nyx back.
“Fine. I think she’s been holding on to a lot of things that we probably should have talked about a long time ago and didn’t, and now she’s angry, and I’m a shitty friend for not having noticed or done something about it.”
"It's Bo; I'm sure she'll come around. You guys have been through everything together."
"Have we?" I ask. And when I think about it, I'm not sure if we have anymore. Sure, a lot of things have happened to us, but we haven't spent anywhere near as much time together as we used to. I should have seen how distant we were becoming.
“Of course you have,” Trey says, putting his arm around my shoulder. “Are you ready to go?”
We walk half way toward Arden and come to a halt; a flash of the First Fallon’s white robes circles the floor above us. She enters the spiral staircase and descends to the ground floor. Her pure white face is set hard, fury burning in her eyes, and those eyes are fixed on me. Trey moves in front of me, sliding me behind his back. As she nears us, Arden stops what he's doing and approaches from behind her, his hand slipping to his wand belt.
“You won’t be needing that, Winkworth,” the First Fallon says, without looking behind her. “It appears,” her jaw flexes with every word, “that even with the most forceful of encouragement, Victor won’t talk. In fact, you’ll be delighted to know he’s requested a conversation with you.” She leans in and spits the last word at me, her gaze lingering on mine as an actual flame glints in her eyes.
"I'm not taking it pe
rsonally, of course. My sister has control of him. Everything is expendable to her. She'd let me rip him into pieces before she let him give me an ounce of information. So I guess you’re going to have all the fun torturing him instead of me." The flames burn harder, then as suddenly as they appeared, they disappear, and she moves back. “You’d better get what I need, Eden. Find out what he’s done with that bloody lock and key before I tear Trutinor apart looking. My sister cannot be allowed to return.”
I shift on the spot, uncomfortable under her stare. Before I can stop myself the words come tumbling out, “What did Rozalyn do to make you hate her so much?”
Her face, if it's possible, gets even harder. There's a stillness in her cold features that penetrates through to my core. And I'm certain my heart stops beating.
She leans into my face again, her nose millimeters from mine. "Get me what I want," she says, growling, but I'm sure underneath the growl there was a tiny tremor in her voice, “before I tear you apart too.”