Chapter 4
For the second time that night, elixir sat sour and wrong on my tongue.
Sleep taunted me, toyed with me, wrapped its hands around my eyes and called to me; still, I couldn’t settle.
Unease descended in a horrible black cloud, splintering my mind into pieces.
Several villagers stood watch over the cellar, ensuring that my parents would remain in place until morning.
I should have been sleeping. Resting. Getting my energy back so I could continue protecting Elliot.
I shuddered and sat up, again reaching for the elixir vial.
I would take a longer drink and count backward from a thousand.
A hundred thousand, even. I would bar Mother’s demon-infested body and Isaac’s leaking eyes from my mind.
But when the glass grazed my lips, only a small rivulet of liquid trickled out.
I stared in disbelief at the empty vial.
Disgusted with myself, I stormed downstairs to our family’s personal elixir reserve.
I didn’t have a choice; if the tonic wasn’t taken immediately before sleep, my soul might drift into the realm of demons.
But this was another reason the average family—the average person, even—struggled to maintain an elixir supply.
A stomach tight with hunger, fear, or discontent made sleep difficult, but most couldn’t afford to waste more than one or two mouthfuls per day.
I searched the dark recesses of our kitchen shelves, expecting to graze the smooth glass of elixir vials, but I felt nothing but dust and shadows.
Norhavellis’s remaining supply, tucked away in our makeshift apothecary, silently beckoned.
Darkness pushed into the apothecary, bloating the walls with thick shadow, and plants cascaded from the ceiling, pressing against curtain-drawn windows.
They felt serpentine, more akin to slimy, writhing beasts than harmless vegetation.
I quickly searched for a spare vial, ignoring the sensation that something was watching me, lurking just beyond my vision.
Once I found what I was looking for—a small portion of elixir, suitable for a few mouthfuls—I hurried upstairs, drank from the vial, and settled under my blankets, fully prepared for an unremarkable night of demon-free sleep.
But before I knew it, I was dreaming.
No—falling.
My body hurtled down a dark abyss as I succumbed to sleep, limbs flailing.
Then I slammed into a hill, unable to stop sliding.
My hands clenched around wet, slimy things.
Cold mud. Decaying leaves. I was a doll, a stone—useless, useless—slamming into branches and the sharp undersides of tree roots.
By the time I stopped moving, I didn’t recognize the gasping, pitiful breaths that stumbled out of me.
Slowly, I opened my eyes.
Trees swayed overhead, glistening softly in the twilight.
Still reeling, I absently noted the wet soil between my fingers.
The papery leaves as they pressed against the back of my head.
I sat up, gently stretching out my joints.
I must have been delivering elixir parcels with Mother and Father.
I must have fallen from the cart as we made our rounds.
Yes, that was it. They must be so worried.
Entirely forgetting I was in a dream, I noticed the whisper of a melody—the only indication of any life beyond trees, mud, and a rapidly darkening sky.
The song was beautiful—simple and carefree.
It reminded me of a day when Eden and I were finally allowed to go into Norhavellis by ourselves.
We were on a mission to collect a certain herb, but the job itself didn’t matter.
We spent that whole morning pretending to be warriors, sparring with branches and dancing through the tall grass as if nothing could ever hurt us.
I sang along to the tune, making up words as I went.
Time lost itself as I walked, but I continued to sing, deep in my thoughts and my made-up song, until I heard the crunch of quick footsteps moving through the leaves.
I had only an instant to grab a fallen branch to use as a weapon, its tip curved and sharp.
A group of masked men materialized from the brush, covered in oily fur and the stench of unwashed flesh.
They slunk around me, silent except for muffled panting.
Saliva oozed from between their cracked lips, sliding into their fur.
Their costumes were terrifyingly intricate; there were no seams in the material.
Performers from Istralla, then.
My palms felt hot around my makeshift weapon. Performers or not, humans shouldn’t ever look like this. It was unnatural.
A mimicry of life.
“What do you want?” I asked, my voice uncontrollably shrill. “My father and mother are the Absolvers of Norhavellis. They’re somewhere near.…” I didn’t know where to look. They were everywhere, forcing me backward. Where were their eyes? “Get away from me—get away!”
One performer stalked forward, growling out puffs of air from slits in the mask’s nose. I lurched backward and tripped, collapsing to the ground. They were wretched. Absolutely wretched. My head was burning. White dots sparked like fire across my vision. I shut my eyes tight.
Then I realized. Remembered.
I was asleep. I was asleep, and this was a dream.
My eyes flew open. These men weren’t performers. They were demons, grinning at me with maniacal glee.
Dragging myself to my feet and picking a direction at random, I ran for my life.
Do everything in your power to escape the demons.
Do not fight the demons. You cannot win.
If all else fails, surprise or harm your body enough to force yourself into consciousness.
The voices of my parents rang through my head, echoing each rule and every deadly warning just as the trees shifted around me, branches gleaming like iridescent fish scales as they opened to a wide, crescent-shaped expanse dotted with blue flowers.
Overhead, a purple sky dusted with silver-bright constellations slowly began to darken.
Beautiful.
I nearly laughed. No one had told me that damnation could be beautiful.
“Girl.”
I stiffened. They’d found me.
“Girl,” repeated the demon, voice jagged and strained, like rusted metal groaning in the wind. “You do not reek of demon flesh, and yet here you are. Perhaps you desire what we seek. Perhaps we are one and the same.”
“I don’t desire what you seek,” I snapped furiously, wielding my branch like an ill-suited sword. My stomach churned at the thought of Eden and Mother being stalked by these creatures before succumbing to Corruption. “I am nothing like you.”
One of the monsters, filthy and grotesque, stepped into the clearing.
It looked as though it had recently clawed its way from the depths of hell, digging through layer upon layer of earth until it had finally broken free.
Thick cords of gray hair wilted from its scalp, hanging at crooked angles, and mud dripped stringlike from its body.
A tattered piece of embroidered cloth clung to its shoulders, trailing into the grass behind it, and its eyes matched the state of its hair, gray and sagging.
“Look around,” the figure said, stilling itself. “Do you see? See, and you will be free.”
The demons surrounded me, forming a loose circle within the glistening trees.
Terror clogged my throat. What did I see? I saw demons. I saw ugliness. I saw filth.
But I also saw a crescent-shaped glade bursting with shimmering trees and flowers. I scanned the space again, finally settling on something in the distance that was murky and irregular.
“You have found it,” the creature sighed.
The massive shape of something unfurled before me like the husk of some newly discovered creature. Its form slipped in and out of focus, sometimes taking shape, other times whisking away into the air as though it were nothing.
Breathe. I needed to breathe.
I took a lungful of perfumed air, willing my mind to clear, then I examined my hands, staring until the skin sharpened.
Once I was satisfied with the clarity of my fingers, I took a final breath, steadying myself.
A castle loomed overhead, casting shadows across the landscape.
It was a Goliath of lofty spires, obsidian walls, and sculptural work that was beyond what my mind could understand.
Stars dappled the expanse of dark purple sky just above it, reflecting in the stained glass arches of the upper floors and illuminating walls that were either partially broken or fully caved in.
I could feel the power the castle held; so deep within the gilded woods, it seemed to foretell a presence that waited in silken, shadowed corners and watched.
When I finally tore my eyes away, I was alone.
The demons were gone.
I walked through the castle’s sprawling courtyard, unable to keep from admiring its uncanny beauty.
Lush floral arrangements bloomed from sapphire vases, dipping into starry water that poured from stone fountains.
I ran a hand along a vase, alarmed that it felt so real.
I could touch the surface, glossy and dark, and feel the twilight air upon the glass.
Instinctively, I reached for the castle doors.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The castle doors quivered in time with the echoing knocks, rippling as their smooth surface suddenly changed into thousands of meticulously detailed sculptures. I tried to examine the images, but they escaped me, flitting from my vision like spinning grains of dust.
The shadows stained everything. I couldn’t see.
I can’t see.