Chapter Thirteen
I look around me. It’s dark now. Nala is not in her bed yet; she must be out with Charlie.
I glance at the clock on the wall. It’s eight p.m. I’ve been asleep all afternoon.
I trace my finger over the back of my head to see if the bump has gone down yet.
I wince at the touch. It’s much smaller now but still painfully present.
I must have hit it pretty hard. I turn my focus to my hand and unwrap each layer of bandage to inspect the damage Alex caused.
The last of the bandage peels off. The grium jelly has worked.
My hand now looks good as new. There’s not a mark on it.
I clench my fist and open it again as if testing out the new layer of skin. Thank the Gods for healers.
I sit back on my bed and cross my legs. Did I really just dream walk?
I furrow my brows and slide my curtain open, giving me a perfect view of Moon Castle.
I reach for my telescope and place it over my eye, turning the dial for clarity.
They should be up any minute now. The door creaks open, and I fumble the telescope away, pushing it under my pillowcase.
“You’re awake! How you feeling?” Nala strides towards me, tucking her midnight black hair behind her ear, wrinkles of concern forming on her face.
“Oh. I’m fine, really.” I force a smile and show her my hand. “See, not a mark on it.” Her eyes fix on it.
“Thank the Gods for Healers.” She examines my hand in awe whilst plonking down a brown paper bag next to me.
“Thought you might be hungry.” She looks up at me with a smile. “I snuck you some bread and some sausages. I tried to get more, but Miss Worthington was watching like a hawk.” She pushes the bag towards me, urging me to take it.
“I’m actually starving, thank you.” A genuine smile forms on my face as I dip my hand in the bag and rummage for a sausage and a small bread roll. “How long was I out?” I ask her whilst tearing the roll in half and pushing the sausage inside it.
“At least eight hours.” She watches me as I take a big bite out of the sausage butty. “I came and checked on you a couple of times, but you were out like a light.”
I force the dry roll down my throat and swallow it, making a loud gulp sound.
“You came and checked on me?” I question thinking about my vacant body on the bed and my mind in Ryder’s dorm room. “Did you notice anything strange when you checked on me?” My voice trembles a little as I ask this. I pull another sausage out of the bag and bite it to disguise my worry.
“Strange? No, nothing strange. Why do you ask?” Her eyebrows rise, intrigued by my question.
“Just making sure Alex isn’t plotting his revenge on me,” I say, forcing a chuckle out of my lips and tearing at the sausage in my hand.
“He’s been in the healing quarters all day.” She laughs a little. “Hopefully, he burned some sense into himself.”
I fake a small smile and nod, finishing the last bite of the sausage. Her smile grows, and she looks intensely at me, like she’s about to explode.
“Now that I know you’re okay, you can help prepare for tonight.” Her eyes dance over mine as if she expects me to know what is happening tonight.
“Tonight?” I think hard and rub my head as if it will expose some clarity.
“My visit,” she beams, and a high-pitched squeal rings from her mouth.
Of course, it’s the night before her eighteenth birthday. Tonight is the night she will get her Gifts.
“Oh, my Gods, yes. How could I forget?” I can’t hide my excitement and gently squeeze her hands in mine. “You must be so excited. How can I help you prepare?”
“I just need you to ease my mind. I’m so fucking nervous I think I might shit my pants.”
I giggle at this, but her face is serious.
“Everybody gets nervous on the day; it’s fine. You’ll be fine. You’re Nala fucking Reed!” I announce, my voice strong and bold. “And you’ll be an enchanter tomorrow.”
A huge grin appears on her face.
“Thanks, Asha. I knew you would make me feel better.” She presses her cheek against my shoulder.
“What Gift do you think you’ll get?” I pry, taking another bite out of the bread roll and lightly dusting the crumbs off my bed sheets.
“My parents are Influencers so there’s a ninety-five percent chance I will be one too.” She narrows her gaze. “It’s the other five percent that terrifies me.”
I stare knowingly into her eyes. It’s very rare that she will be in that other five percent; if you have parents who both share the same Gift, there is a ninety-five percent chance that the Gods will Gift you the same.
However, if your parents share two different Gifts, most likely you will take on one or the other.
There is, on the other hand, a rarity that almost never occurs: an enchanter can receive a Gift that neither parent carries. The five percent.
“Whatever Gift you get will be badass, I’m sure of it,” I reassure, making Nala giggle.
“Thanks, Asha. I should probably get ready for bed now. You know, if I wanna be a badass in the morning.” Her grin is contagious and I smile back.
“Good night.”
I watch as she throws her pyjamas on and tucks herself into bed.
It’s been a few hours since Nala got into bed.
It is dark and quiet, her faint snoring the only sound sharp enough to slice through the silence.
I lay awake in bed envious of Nala, of how she always sleeps so deeply.
She drifts off as soon as her head hits the pillow, and she needs to be physically woken in the mornings.
I think if I didn’t wake her up, she would probably sleep all day and night, hibernating like a bear in the winter.
I wish I could sleep like that. Thoughts race around in my brain, competing to get to the front of my mind.
It is impossible to steer them away, to press my foot on their brakes and force them to a halt. They have too much fuel in their tanks.
‘The Sun people aren’t as they seem.’ What did Ryder mean when he said this?
And why wouldn’t he tell me more? My heart throbs in my chest, and unrest bubbles in my veins.
Why did he give me that article and warn me about the Sun people if he wasn’t going to tell me the whole story?
How did my hands cut through him like a hot knife through butter?
Dream walking… I’m supposed to believe I was actually dream walking?
I’ve read countless books and never once came across dream walking, but somehow, he knew so much about it.
I can feel myself getting antsy as I toss and turn.
Like an itch that I can’t quite scratch, these questions are grating on my mind, shredding away at my sanity piece by piece. I have to find answers.
Quietly, I swing my legs off my bed onto the hardwood floor and slink my way to my wardrobe.
I step carefully, in an attempt to dodge every creak and moan the grumpy floor might make.
I pull out the first jumper I find and stretch it over my head.
It’s hard to see in the dark, but I manage to fumble around my wardrobe softly and grab out a pair of grey sweatpants.
I shimmy each leg through the openings and tighten its drawstrings at my waist. I then creep out of the door and down the stairs at the end of our hall, remembering the shortcut Charlie told us about.
The courtyard is still and silent. It is dimly lit by the silvery light from the moon.
I can’t help but throw my head back and gaze up at the stars above me.
There is not a cloud in the sky, and I can see everything with such clarity, each constellation more beautiful than the next.
It feels as if time stops for a moment and my eyes get lost in the canvas.
I breathe deeply, mesmerised by the spheres of silver light, how they twinkle and glisten and stare back at me like they are beckoning me to touch them.
I force myself to look away, breaking the stars’ hypnotism, and remind myself why I am here: The archives.
I tiptoe towards the third row of viewing benches and find the hatch hidden in the ground behind the stone; it has a small round iron ring that acts as a handle.
I wrap my fingers around the cold metal and pull the heavy platform away from the ground.
I have to use a lot of my strength to do this, and my arms almost give out due to the weight, but my grip tightens and I pull again, finally revealing the steep stairs below.
Darkness encloses the space, and the stairs look like they are absorbed into the abyss.
I make my way into the darkness and drag my arm against the wall beside me to feel for the light switch.
I take each step gingerly and finally make my way to the bottom.
The rigid shape of the light switch jostles under my fingers.
I press and hear a ‘click’. An army of lights flicker on one by one, disintegrating the darkness.
It’s eerie being down here alone. Some remnants of last night’s party still lie in shame on the floor; a chalice here, a jacket there.
There are books splayed randomly across the floor with their pages spread open, knocked aimlessly off their shelves and consoled by the ground below.
It still smells like liquor, which makes me want to gag a little, but adrenaline keeps me focused.
I head over to the bookcase nearest the stairs and trace my fingers over its wooden edges.
There seems to be no logical system in the way the books are displayed.
They are not stacked in neat rows or organised by author; they are all jumbled on top of each other in unkempt piles, left to rot.
A layer of dust suffocates each cover, and I run my index finger along their faces as if letting them finally take a breath.
Some books are left naked, torn away from their hardback frames, exposing their pages for anyone to see.