Chapter 1 #2
The flames shudder again, then settle. The pressure eases from my chest, leaving behind the faint taste of metal on my tongue. I drag a shaky hand through my hair, forcing my breathing to even out. This isn’t the craziest thing I’ve heard over the last couple of weeks.
Yet…
“I want to leave,” I say finally, my voice firmer than I feel. “Whatever this is, you tricked me. I don’t belong here.”
“You’re welcome to try to leave. You might even succeed, but I promise you, Rowan, you’d regret it.”
He gestures toward the door with casual grace, like he’s inviting me to dinner instead of daring me to run.
My shoes are nowhere in sight, but I don’t care. I stride across the room, heart hammering, and reach for the doorway he’d walked through moments ago, only for it to slam shut. The seams vanish, swallowed by stone.
My palm meets the wall, cold as ice and unyielding. I press harder, focusing on escape, on freedom, on anything that might break this spell, but nothing happens. The surface remains solid, immovable.
I turn back to Malrik, glaring. “Do you think you’re funny?”
His brow arches. “Do I look like a man who jokes?”
The worst part is that he doesn’t.
My hands sweat as I scan for another exit.
And then, impossibly so, a narrow window ripples into existence on the far wall.
A slit of pale light filters through, illuminating motes of dust that swirl like tiny ghosts.
Beyond it, I glimpse snow—white and endless—and mountains jagged against a gray sky.
But when I step closer, the view shifts. One heartbeat, there’s a frozen landscape. The next, a wall of black fog that presses against the glass, swirling like it’s alive. Then it hardens back into stone.
My stomach lurches. “Who are you?”
Malrik’s posture looks regal as he stands with his back straight and chin lifted, but there’s something in the way the shadows cling to him that swallows the illusion of elegance. His darkness feels cultivated. Worn like armor.
“You know who I am,” he says, voice smooth as ever. “You just haven’t found the answer in that mind of yours yet.”
Great. Another cryptic genius. He’s starting to sound like Iris.
The thought stabs through me, sharp and unexpected. Iris. Archie. Liz. Cade. Elias. My chest tightens with guilt so thick it’s hard to breathe. I abandoned them. Ran when they needed me most.
Would they even forgive me if I returned? Are they all still alive?
The ache that builds behind my ribs is raw and unrelenting. I haven’t felt anything this strong since waking up, and for a second, I welcome it. Pain means I’m still me.
But I can’t afford to crumble. Not now. Not in front of him.
I have to figure out why I’m here and what this place is.
“So, this castle is run by magic?” I ask, knowing that would make sense given the things I’d seen back in NightShade.
“The Keep is magic,” Malrik corrects, folding his hands behind his back. “And it listens to you.”
“I don’t want it to listen.”
The words come out sharper than intended, childish even, but I don’t care. Panic claws at the edges of my composure. I’m stuck in a castle that breathes when I do, obeys when I don’t, and even if I were magically influenced, I feel as though I walked right into it willingly.
What the hell have I done?
“Then learn to speak more gently,” he says sharply, then tugs unnecessarily at his left sleeve. “You’ll come to understand soon enough.”
“Or I’ll find a way out.” I don’t mean to say that bit out loud, but I also don’t take it back. I can’t be weak here. Whatever I am, whoever Malrik is, this is life or death. I know that in my bones, and I’m not ready to be done with this world, nor am I willing to become someone’s plaything.
I’ll figure out how to right the wrongs I’ve made.
Malrik’s eyes glint, a shimmer of silver sliding through gray. “Hope is such a fickle thing,” he muses. “I don’t usually approve of it. But for you, young one, I might make an exception.”
He approaches the wall, pausing just long enough that his shadow falls over me. “Rest now, Rowan. We begin your lessons at dusk.”
“Lessons in what?”
“In control,” he murmurs, and as he passes, the air chills enough to fog my breath.
The door opens—only for him—and seals shut behind him without a sound.
Silence swells, thick and absolute. The hum fades to a whisper, but it’s still there, coiling under my skin like a second heartbeat. I lean against the wall, pressing my palm flat to the stone. It’s warm now, faintly pulsing.
When I whisper, “Let me out,” I swear the wall sighs like it’s considering it.
But then nothing happens. Well, nothing that I want.
An involuntary yawn escapes me, and I do what Malrik suggested: I rest. I might not like where I’ve found myself or even what I’ve become, and more than that, I very much dislike my captor, but I know one thing.
I’m not getting out of here by hoping Malrik might be the savior he promised to be.
I also can’t be stupid enough to think he can make any of this better.
Only I can do that, and if I want to see my family again, or even daylight, I probably shouldn’t fail now.