Chapter Sixteen
ELODIE
Iturned right between the trees, following a narrow path barely visible in the pale moonlight.
The ground was frozen under my feet as I dashed through the forest framing Thornhill, sliding between the sharp branches that clawed at my skin.
The only sound was my own heart, rumbling in my ears, and the low, melodic murmur of a river nearby.
My breathing shortened. I had no idea how long I had been out here, but my skin turned corpse-like blue.
The white nightgown I wore nearly snagged on a vicious thorn just before I halted.
I stood in the middle of a small clearing, the feeling that I wasn’t alone crawling up my back as I looked around.
A flicker of light between the trees caught my attention and I moved closer, my steps wary.
I swept away the branches to discover a small building caged between crimson Virginia Creepers.
I tore at them, clawing the vines like a vicious animal, a hungry predator, or maybe a scared prey searching for escape.
But why? Why was I here? My palms and nails were streaked red and green with the plants torn flesh as I stood between the bloody river of vines, when the rust-eaten gate suddenly flew open.
I blew out a satisfied breath and crossed the threshold of the mausoleum. I gazed over the walls, cramped with moss-covered crypts from floor to ceiling. Something bright flashed in the corner of my eye, and I snapped my head in its direction, only to see a mirror.
I blinked, and the breath I was taking froze in my throat. The girl in the mirror didn’t do the same. Instead, she tilted her head, her dark curls swirling, as if caught in a current only she could feel.
My eyes widened, my pulse jumping. I staggered back, stumbling, but she didn’t move.
“Elodie,” she whispered. My name echoed like it had been dropped into a deep well, the sound twisting as it travelled, too loud and too distant all at once. Her hand rose slowly and pointed at me, but then it shifted. Beyond me. It wasn’t a smooth motion. It twitched with urgency.
I turned, my gaze following the path of her outstretched finger, and a chill gripped my chest. The far corner of the mausoleum darkened, then writhed.
Familiar shadows swirled there, moving with an anxious speed.
My stomach churned, a knot of dread tightening as the shadows neared.
I could feel them on my skin, damp and cold—but hot all at once.
I shivered then sweat, my throat drying and my fingers freezing.
I stepped back, but the shadows rose higher, curling above me like a wave about to crash.
Like a threat. Except it wasn't one. It was a warning. But a warning of what? I stared into the void, my heart clawing at my ribs. I saw glimpses of faces—ones I didn’t recognize, yet somehow knew.
Their mouths moved, but no sound came. Their eyes were full of sorrow. Or maybe hunger. I couldn’t tell.
Then the ground was gone.
Not a crack or a crumble—just gone, like someone had yanked the world out from under me.
I fell.
There was no wind, no rush of air. Just the stretch of forever pressing in on all sides. Like I was sinking in velvet darkness, limbs floating weightlessly while my stomach tried to catch up. Time stuttered, spun sideways. My scream never made it past my lips.
Down and down and down.
The shadows curled around me like ribbons. Like hands. Tugging me deeper, whispering things I couldn’t understand, but somehow felt were important.
And then—
My pyjamas were soaked in sweat as I bolted upright on the bed.
I reached for the bedside lamp and clicked it on, trying to even my breathing.
I’d always been a visual dreamer but never like this.
I turned my head to where my mum’s diary was resting on the bedside table next to the Tales of Thornhill.
I swallowed, then blew out a ragged breath, glancing at my watch.
It was barely six in the morning. I pulled the book into my lap and leaned against the bed head.