Chapter Twenty-Two – Millie
Chapter Twenty-Two
Millie
As soon as I stepped out of Death’s office, the world tilted on its axis. The hallway seemed to stretch and contract, the walls rippling like water. My stomach churned, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting back a wave of nausea. I needed a bathroom, desperately. Somewhere to splash cold water on my face and maybe lose my lunch in private. But as I stumbled down the endless corridor, every door I passed looked too ornate to be a simple restroom. They were works of art, each one unique and breathtaking. Under different circumstances, I might have stopped to admire them.
My head spun, and I leaned against the wall for support. The surface beneath my palm shifted, feeling like cool marble one second, and rough wood the next. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to steady myself. When I opened them again, a door directly across from me caught my eye. It was simpler than the others, almost plain in comparison. Without thinking, I lurched towards it and fumbled with the handle. I practically fell into the room, grateful to find the space slightly more stable than the hallway. It wasn’t a bathroom, but at least the floor stayed put under my feet.
As my vision cleared, I realized I was surrounded by shelves. They lined every wall from floor to ceiling, each one filled with small bottles. Hundreds, maybe thousands of them. I blinked, wondering if I was hallucinating.
I stepped closer to examine one. It was made of clear glass, no bigger than my palm. Inside, I could see a tightly rolled piece of paper. A message? My curiosity got the better of me, and I reached out to pick up the bottle. As my fingers brushed against the cool glass, a shiver ran down my spine. These weren’t just random notes. They felt important. Like each one held a secret or a story. I turned the bottle over in my hands, marveling at how the paper inside seemed to glow faintly. What were these messages? Who were they for? My mind raced with possibilities.
The room was eerily quiet, the silence broken only by the soft clink of glass as I set the bottle back in its place. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. The nausea had passed somewhat.
“They’re beautiful, aren’t they? They’re also deadly. All of them.”
I jumped out of my skin at the voice coming from behind me. I spun around, nearly knocking over a bottle. A woman stood before me, her presence striking and unsettling. She was beautiful in an otherworldly way, with eyes that seemed to hold centuries of wisdom.
“Who are you?” I asked. The room felt smaller, more intimate, as if the shelves were closing in around us.
“I’m the First Sister,” she replied, her tone casual, as if that explained everything.
I blinked, confused. First Sister? Of what? I had so many questions, but they all tangled up in my throat. Instead, I turned back to the shelves, gesturing at the bottles.
“What are they?”
The First Sister’s lips curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “They’re prophecies,” she said, running a finger along the shelf. “I wrote them myself.”
Prophecies? Like, seeing the future? I’d seen some weird stuff since meeting Grim, but this took the cake.
“Does everyone have one?” I asked. I thought of Elysia, of Grim, of all the people I cared about. Did their futures sit here, trapped in glass?
The First Sister shook her head. “No, not everyone. Only those who irk me.”
I swallowed hard, not sure if I wanted to know the answer to my next question. “Do I have one?”
Her eyes met mine, and for a moment, I felt like she could see right through me. “No,” she said. “You would have known if you did.”
Relief flooded through me, followed quickly by a pang of guilt. Why was I relieved? Shouldn’t I want to know my future, especially with everything going on?
The First Sister must have sensed my internal struggle. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her touch surprisingly warm.
“Trust me,” she said. “Not having a prophecy is a blessing. It means your future is your own to shape.”
I nodded, trying to take comfort in her words. But as I looked around at the countless bottles, each holding someone’s fate, I couldn’t help but wonder: how much of our lives was really up to us to decide? And what did it mean to irk a being who could write the future? What was I doing here, anyway? Grim was probably waiting, wondering where I’d disappeared to. I glanced around the room, suddenly feeling like an intruder in a place I shouldn’t be.
“I... I should go,” I said. “I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but time feels different in this place.”
The First Sister nodded, her expression unreadable. As I turned to leave, her hand touched my arm, light as a feather. I looked back, meeting her ancient eyes. Without a word, she pressed a small bottle into my palm. It was cool against my skin, and I curled my fingers around it. My gaze dropped to the label, and my breath caught in my throat.
“Ma-Vasha,” I read aloud. I looked up at the First Sister, questions swirling in my mind. “Is this... Is this her prophecy?”
She nodded, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yes. I believe it might be of use to you.”
I stared at the bottle. This tiny thing held Ma-Vasha’s future? The being who held my sister’s life – and my own – in her hands?
“Why?” I asked. “Why are you helping me?”
She shrugged, the gesture oddly casual for someone so otherworldly. “I’m a cat person,” she said, as if that explained anything.
Before I could process her words, she was gently pushing me towards the door. “Off you go now,” she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.
I stumbled into the hallway, my head spinning. The bottle felt heavy in my hand, far heavier than its small size should allow. I slipped it into my pocket, my fingers lingering on its smooth surface for a moment. The corridor seemed different now, less dizzying than before. I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. What had just happened? And what was I supposed to do with Ma-Vasha’s prophecy?
“Millie!”
Grim’s voice snapped me back to reality. I turned to see him running towards me. He reached me in seconds, his bony hands gripping my arms as he searched my face.
“Are you okay? Where have you been?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but a wave of dizziness hit me. The events of the day – meeting Death, discovering the room of prophecies, the weight of Ma-Vasha’s future in my pocket – it all made me feel exhausted.
“I’m not feeling well,” I managed to say, leaning into Grim’s solid form.
His arm wrapped around me, steadying me. “I’m taking you home,” he said.
As he wrapped me in his arms and under his cloak, preparing to teleport us both, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. The bottle in my pocket seemed to pulse with potential, with possibility. Whatever it contained, there was a chance it could change everything.