Chapter 28
Ghosts From the Past
Before Ember knew it, it was February, and she had yet to leave the chateau.
Her tutor came every day at seven, right after breakfast, and Ember proceeded to spend her morning practicing spells, creating potions, and learning history in the comfort of her very expensive new home.
Helvig came over for dinner once a week, where they sat in that beautiful, enclosed greenhouse attached to the kitchen, filled with exotic plants and a pond that could have comfortably fit a small dolphin.
She read books by the fire, sipped tea as she watched rain trickle down the window panes, and talked to the stars each night that hung over the mountains surrounding the city.
And she was miserable.
Because of the strength of the wards surrounding the town, Helios couldn’t make it through.
She had no way of contacting Fen or Killian, and they had no way to reach her, either.
Her phone was still broken, no matter how many times she tried to fix it, and she was certain she would never get to speak to her friends again.
What was even worse, the invisible tether that connected the trio didn’t feel like it normally did.
She could typically feel something connecting them, something that reverberated against her ribs.
She had learned to ignore it. It had just become a part of her everyday life.
But now that it was gone, she could feel the cavern it left in her ribs.
It felt like she had been cut in half.
She thought about running away, just taking off in the dead of night and searching for a way home.
Once, she’d snuck through her window and took off into the night, thinking that if she found a way out, she could make a plan, pack up Theo, and disappear with him forever.
Maybe she could find someone to protect her.
Maybe they could hide away together or leave the island completely until it all settled down.
Mountains towered over her in every direction, and even from the ground, she could feel the strength of the wards surrounding them.
She felt her spirit break a fraction again.
Even without the mountains surrounding the town keeping her caged in like a wild animal, her mother would come after her, maybe even sending Collum, and she would be dragged back kicking and screaming. She wouldn’t do that to Theo.
And she certainly wasn’t going to leave him behind by himself. She would keep searching for a way out—an escape. She would never stop searching.
She put on a fake smile after a few weeks, doing her best to make the most of it all for Theo’s sake, trying to put on a brave face, but her strength was waning.
Sun beamed through the window into the kitchen, and the gentle sound of classical music floated through the air.
“Gaelen, I’m losing my mind,” she whined, as she leaned over her book, tracing the picture projected off the page of some goddess whose name she couldn’t be bothered to remember.
Her tutor had given her the day off, save the mountain of homework she had to complete, and the last thing she wanted to do was stay inside on such a beautiful day.
She longed to feel the wind on her face as she flew through the clouds, but a nice walk would do as well.
Before Gaelen could reply, Aoife walked in the kitchen.
Ember stiffened, averting her eyes. She was still so angry with her mother, she barely said anything to her on the days she happened to be home.
Ember saw less and less of her each day, whatever work she did with Helvig eclipsing her responsibilities as a parent.
But she was going stir crazy, and she was desperate.
“Mum?” she said quietly. “Could I go into town today?”
Aoife furrowed her brow. “What for?”
“Just to explore.” Ember shrugged. “Explore my new home.”
Home.
The word tasted sour in her mouth. But whether she liked it or not, this was home for now—at least until she found a way out.
Aoife smiled, tilting her head. “That sounds like a lovely idea. Should I send for Collum to go with you?”
Ember wrinkled her nose. “No, Mum. I’ll be fine,” she replied, as she shook her head.
“Just be home for supper, yes? Your granda’ will be by tonight,” she replied, and then she was gone, just like every day.
Ember ran her book upstairs, grabbing her bag and quickly slipping her father’s journal inside.
She tore down the steps and out the door, breathing in the smell of the grass after rain.
It was February, still chilly enough that she needed a coat, but not so cold that the rain had turned to snow.
The sun was shining brightly, warming her cheeks as the wind bit into them, and she couldn’t help the smile that took over her face.
She chose to walk into town, instead of using the Echopoint by her house that would take her there instantly, following the curve of the road as it wound around trees and streams. There was something old about these hills—something that felt untouched by the modern world.
The houses she passed were simple, wooden exterior and thatched roofs surrounded by gardens that had long died in the brutality of the harsh winter.
She stopped at the edge of the road as she squinted her eyes at what looked like a door in the distance, carved into the side of one of the rolling hills.
“Curious,” she mumbled to herself, and she made her way through the grass and to the opening.
As she got closer, she realized it was the entrance to what looked like an old mineshaft.
She took a quick step back—she knew better than to wander inside.
There was no telling how old this mine was—no telling what had made its home inside or how well the walls were holding up.
Ember shivered as she turned and made her way back to the road.
She made her way over the top of another hill, seeing a few more mineshafts dotting the hills in the distance, and finally, a city came into view.
It resembled Sigurvik, the buildings a rainbow against the bleakness of the grey sky.
Seagulls flew overhead, and for just a moment, if Ember closed her eyes tight, it almost felt like she was home.
Home.
She made her way down the path further, and the hustle and bustle of the city grew louder.
Children shrieked and laughed as they ran down the street, mothers walked among the shops carrying baskets filled with eggs and vegetables and baked goods, and the joy reverberating through the streets was almost palpable.
She walked over a bridge, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw a small cellar door pushed up against the side of one of the buildings.
She furrowed her brow as she tilted her head—being this close to the ocean, cellars weren’t all that common.
The island wasn’t very far above sea level, and flooding happened more often than not during the rainy season.
She peered closer, and it looked like the door hadn’t been opened in ages.
The lock was rusted shut, the hinges discolored and coated in salt from the air.
That at least meant that nothing was lurking inside.
Either that, or something was locked in and forgotten about.
She adjusted the bag on her shoulder and shuddered. She would prefer not to find out if there was anything lurking in the cellar beneath the pristine shop.
Ember wandered along the cobblestone streets, up and down the rows of shops, restaurants and tiny homes tucked in between.
She walked past a small flower shop, taking in the smell of daffodils, snowdrops, and magnolias.
Most people longed for the flowers of spring—the first bloom of lavender in the open fields—but Ember had always been partial to the flowers that bloomed in the winter.
The flowers that grew despite the cold and dark surrounding it, the ones that not only grew, but flourished.
As she walked further, the smell of fish became more prominent. Living in a fishing town, the smell was always present, but she could always tell when she was close to the water. The way it mixed with the salt in the air almost made her homesick.
She wandered into a small apothecary, vials of potions and tonics lined the shelves, along with ingredients she had only ever read about, that seemed plentiful in this hidden village.
“Looking for something in particular?” a voice said from the back of the shop.
Ember turned around to see a woman carefully placing ingredients on the shelves, long auburn hair flowing in waves down her back. Her pale skin almost glistened in the rays of sun beating through the window, her green eyes sparkling as she smiled.
“No, ma’am.” Ember smiled. “Just wanted to look around.”
The woman furrowed her brow as she studied Ember. “I’ve never seen you about the city before.” It wasn’t a question.
Ember chewed her bottom lip. “I just arrived a couple of months ago. This is my first time coming into town, but it’s very lovely.”
“Aye,” the woman nodded, “we don’t get many visitors, let alone people moving here. What’s your name?”
“Ember,” she said, “Ember Lothbrok.”
The woman’s eyes lit up knowingly. “Lothbrok?” she whispered. “Are you kin to Torin?”
Ember nodded. “He’s my father. Did you know him?”
“I did.” She nodded with a small smile. “I knew your da’ very well. He worked as a fisherman at the docks, brought me in seaweed and jellyfish at least once a week. He was a good man, your da’. I’m Catriona.”
Ember felt her throat bob as she wiped away the tears pooled on her lower lash.
“You were about two when you left, I reckon,” Catriona said, as she continued to stock the shelves.
“I lived here?” Ember gasped. “Here in Torsvik?”
“Aye,” Catriona nodded, “I reckon you wouldn’t remember, but I remember you running up and down these streets very well while your da’ visited with William Olsen at the fish shop across the way. Has he not told you about William?”
Ember bit her lip as she shook her head.
“Is he here?” Catriona asked slowly, almost like she already knew the answer.
“No,” Ember replied quietly, “no, I’m sorry. He died when I was six.”
“Oh dear,” she frowned, “I’m so sorry to hear that. He was truly a lovely person.”
“He was.” Ember nodded, her chest beginning to tighten. She stood awkwardly for a few more moments before she bobbed her head and turned toward the door. “It was nice to meet you.” She was eager to get out of the shop, away from talk that made her feel anything.
“Come back soon,” Catriona said, as Ember headed toward the door. “I would love to hear more about how you’re getting on.”
Ember smiled and headed back into the bustling street.
She walked past the fishmonger, imagining her dad spending his afternoons outside with the owner while a little Ember toddled around the village.
She imagined drinking tea in the cafe down the road, spending warm, summer days on the beach.
Torsvik wasn’t so different from Sigurvik, she was coming to find.
Both towns were filled with ghosts. Ghosts of her childhood. The ghost of her father.
Ghosts of the life she could have lived.
She made it to the beach, wrapping her coat tightly around her chest as she sat in the sand.
Grey clouds loomed overhead, waves crashing as she stared at the horizon.
The air smelled like rain, and she thought about getting up and walking back home, until someone shuffled through the sand, sitting down beside her.
“Did Helvig send you to watch me?” Ember said, as she kept her eyes on the horizon.
“No,” Rowan replied, as she twiddled her thumbs, “I came on my own.”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t hex you all the way to Timbuktu,” Ember said, as she flexed her fingers in the sand.
“I wouldn’t blame you,” Rowan whispered. “I deserve it.”
“The pity party won’t work on me, Rowan,” Ember replied, as she rolled her eyes. “If you expect me to just forget all of the terrible things you did to me, you’re going to be very disappointed.” Ember ground her teeth. Who did she think she was?
“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered, wrapping her arms around her knees as she pulled them to her chest, “for everything. I truly am. I don’t expect your forgiveness.”
Ember’s jaw hung slack as she turned to look at the girl—the girl who used to be her best friend. The girl who was more like her than she would care to admit.
“Well, good,” she huffed, “because you wouldn’t get it anyway.” She kept her eyes set in front of her, worried if she looked at the girl, her cool composure would crack. “Then, why are you here?” she asked, shaking her head. “Come to catch up? See how everyone at Heksheim is doing? Ask about Fen?”
“Have you seen my mum?” she asked quietly, bottom lip almost quivering, like she was desperately trying to hold back tears.
The question caught Ember off guard, and her brow raised. “I saw her last year, after you disappeared.”
After you left.
“Is she… okay?” Rowan hesitated.
“As okay as a grieving mother could be.”
Rowan winced, not arguing with her choice in words.
Ember might have felt sorry, had she not remembered the woman’s face when she asked if she had seen her daughter.
“And the boys?” Rowan asked. “They’re good?”
Ember felt heat bloom in her chest. “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t talked to them.” She fished the broken phone out of her pocket, waving it sarcastically in the air.
“Better not let Helvig see you with that,” Rowan chuckled. “He doesn’t like anything modern. I had an ink pen when I got here, and he made me throw it away. It’s like he’s stuck in the 17th century or something.”
Ember shook her head, finally cutting her eyes toward the curly-haired girl.
“What do you want, Rowan? Really. Why are you pretending like everything is okay?” She needed her to understand that she hadn’t forgotten what she did, the way she betrayed her.
As far as she was concerned, her best friend was long dead.
“I just wanted to apologize, to try to start over,” the girl replied, “to see if we could be friends again.”
Friends.
She rolled her eyes, gripping the pendant swinging around her neck. “I admire the confidence you had thinking that would work in your favor.”
She heard Rowan sigh, standing up from the sand to walk away, but didn’t bother to meet her gaze. She hesitated at the edge of the grass and turned around. “You need to be careful, Ember,” she almost whispered. “Not everyone here has your best interest at heart.”
Ember felt the hairs on her arm raise.
Was that a threat? Or a warning?