49. Chapter 49
Chapter forty-nine
Threads of icy fear wound through my veins as I stared at Sin. My father was lying. He had to be. Sin knew how badly I wanted to find out what happened to my mother. He would have never withheld it from me. Never.
Except the look on his face told me I couldn’t be more wrong.
“Rain,” he said, taking a step toward me.
Wobbling in my heels, I backed away from him. “No,” I said, shaking my head as I could feel my heart shattering. “Don’t touch me. You lied to me. You brought me to see her friend, and the whole time you knew the truth. You stood here and told me that you loved me! Was that all a lie too, Sin?”
”Don't ever say that,” he argued. “I told you that there were things I wasn’t able to tell you. If I could have, I would have. You need to believe me, Rain.”
I wanted to, but I just couldn't. Not anymore. Corym had worked around his compulsion which meant it was possible to overcome.
Sin simply hadn’t wanted to tell me the truth.
I whirled on my father. “I want to know. I want you to tell me what happened that night.”
His eyes shuttered, and when he opened them, he said, “How about I show you.”
One second I was on the top of the castle, and the next I was standing on the edge of the clearing in a dark forest, watching a scene unfold before me.
The expression on Sin’s face told me this was most definitely not his illusion.
My father stepped up beside me. “I haven’t been entirely honest with you about my abilities, Raynella. And for that I do apologize. This is my true power.” He gestured at the illusion around us. “Please bear with me as this has been pieced together from the memories of my soldiers, but this is what happened to your mother. This is the truth you want so badly to know.”
Standing on the edges of the scene, I watched a contingent of the king’s guards enter a dimly lit clearing and halt, taking up defensive stances as they surrounded a woman with long silver hair. She was tall and slender and very much like me in every way. Except for the eyes. Those I had gotten from my father.
I wanted to pause the scene so I could just look at my mom. Study her and commit every nuance to memory. Time was never that kind to me, though.
My heart plummeted when an illusion version of Sin stepped out from behind his guards and drew his sword.
“Bring the child, Leeara, and let us return to the palace,” he said. “Let us put this unpleasantness behind us.”
“I will never go with you,” she hissed. “Do you honestly think me to be so na?ve? Do you think I didn’t hear all of you talking? I know what will happen to her, and I will not allow it.”
“Leeara, there is nothing you can do,” Sin stated plainly, stepping closer and placing the tip of his sword at her chest.
I had to fight the urge to spring forward. To stop him. To help her. But it was only an illusion, and there was nothing I could do.
“This was always to be your fate,” he continued. “And hers. There is no use fighting it.”
A flash of light drew my attention from my mother, and behind her I saw a middle-aged woman with auburn hair chanting softly, arms raised high. Her fingertips sparked with magic, and there was something painfully familiar about her.
My mother’s voice drew me back to the unfolding drama.
“I don’t believe in fate,” she said firmly.
I cried out in horror as she thrust forward, impaling herself on Sin's sword.
“No!” I screamed, racing forward to grab my mother. My father’s arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me away from the images that refused to pause so I could grieve.
When I finally stopped fighting, he lowered me to the ground, and I sat there sobbing, watching the thick red streams of blood spill from my mother’s chest.
The illusion of Sin let out a pained cry, and my mother slumped forward onto the sword still held between them. He pulled the weapon from her chest, agony contorting his face as she fell to the ground.
Her eyes focused on something, and I followed her gaze back to the other side of the clearing.
The older female, a World Walker I assumed, raised her arm and slashed a hand through the air, ripping a hole through the very fabric of existence.
Staring into the portal, I recognized the orphanage that had been my home as a child. I spent so many afternoons sitting on those very steps, watching other children laugh and play, wishing that I could be like them. Above the door, the familiar brown sign appeared almost new.
Saint Philomena’s Orphanage
A Caring Home for Abandoned Young Girls
I hated that sign. Not because it called us abandoned. There were no misconceptions about that. We knew what we were. No, what I hated was the word caring. Not a soul inside that building ever cared for me or Jenn or any of the young girls that came and went. The nuns were harsh and cruel, and staying there was just as bad, if not worse, than the foster homes. The only difference was that I didn’t have any scars from the nuns. Well, not physical ones anyway.
Shoving the memories back into the vault of my mind, I looked back over at my mother. She stared into the portal with dead eyes, a smile frozen on her lips.
“Stop her,” illusory Sin shouted. “Grab the child!”
Guards raced toward the Walker, but they were too slow.
She scooped up a small bundle of cloth at her feet then disappeared through the rift, sealing it behind her. I recognized it—that gray blanket. I had clung to it so many nights as a child while I dreamed about what my mother would be like.
Tears streamed down my face for a second time in less than an hour, and I choked back another sob as the illusion of Sin returned to my mother’s still body. I didn’t even recognize him as he knelt down beside her. There was not even a hint of the male I loved.
I had been played for a fool.
“Take her body,” the illusory Sin commanded his guards as he ran a hand reverently over my mother’s pale face. “He will want to know why we failed in our mission.”
The illusion faded away, and the last thing I saw was Sin marching off into the dark forest.