Chapter 41
O ne moment, Elias is kissing me. The next, I’m flying. A heartbeat later, I hit the ground, the air leaving my lungs in a sharp whoosh. The scent of grass fills my senses as I wheeze in one breath then another and shove off the ground. The sunlight is so bright, its warmth beaming down on me.
I shove up on one arm and twist back toward the doorway.
It’s as strange from this side as the other, seeing a literal tear in the fabric of the world. The edges are blurring and wavering, but the image in the middle is clear as day.
Elias stands in front of the door, sword still in hand, but now the look on his face is clear. Brutal.
He looks broken. Defeated. There’s no other way to say it.
Katiya runs up behind him and grabs his shoulder. Her eyes are wide, wild. “Don’t! You can’t do this!”
Her panic pulls me out of my shock. The understanding of what’s just happened, what’s still happening, echoes through me like a death knell.
“No, Elias!” I shove to my feet as fast as I can.
But it’s not quick enough.
He mouths something, but in my haste, I miss it.
I reach for him, but he’s thrown me too far. I can’t even take a step before he swings his sword horizontally across the doorway, and it dissolves into nothing but mist.
“No!” I scream, falling to the ground where the door to Faery was a second ago.
I claw at the grass, ripping out hunks, uncaring as one of my nails breaks painfully against the hard soil.
“No!” I slam my fist on the ground, earning a flare of pain up my arm.
The door is gone.
Elias is gone.
I slump into the grass, sobbing.
Everything pours out of me. Hurt. Loss. Uncertainty. Heartbreak. It slips from me in tears, gasps, and ragged breaths as I lie curled in the fetal position in the grass, hugging my knees to my chest.
At some point, the tears stop, but I’d swear more than liquid left me. My body feels empty, hollow. My heart is broken, and so is my soul, part of it still trapped in Faery. Yet I’m…
I stare blankly around the forested space. Where am I?
Earth, presumably. I can breathe the air.
The sky looks right. I recognize some of the trees, the ladybug that crawled on my leg a minute ago, and the squirrels chasing each other around.
They’re familiar things, but I could still be miles from civilization for all I know.
If this is Earth. If there is civilization.
If they speak English. I could be on the other side of the planet for all I know.
I hang my head between my knees, trying to take one deep breath after another as panic threatens to consume me again.
One thing at a time. Figure out where you are. Get home.
I gasp, sitting up quickly as I shove a hand in my pocket. My fingers brush over the little vial.
“Please don’t be broken.” I pull it out and breathe a sigh of relief. But it lasts only a moment before a new wave of tears threatens.
I have the cure for Matt. I can still get it to him.
Get it together, Aimee.
I rub at my eyes before shoving to my feet. Matt needs me. I can help him now, and that’s what this was all for, right?
Resolved, I walk from the clearing to the edge of the woods, glancing down the sloping hillside. It only takes a moment to spot a well-used trail, and— I gasp. Hikers?
Two colorful figures wearing packs traverse the pathway, one with a walking stick, the other without.
An absolute gift, a godsend, that’s what they are.
I don’t even hesitate before picking my way down the leaf-strewn hillside, winding around trees and through the underbrush, trying not to take a tumble.
The sun is dropping in the sky, its bright rays occasionally blinding as they spear through the tree canopy, creating a dappled pattern on the ground.
There are still a few hours of daylight left by the looks of things.
The hikers spot me before I get to them and stop. The man, probably not much older than me, leaves the woman on the path and meets me a few feet up the incline from the trail.
“Are you all right?” He holds out a hand to me.
English. He’s a human speaking English! I sniffle, and his eyes widen before he looks back to the woman who can’t seem to stand still, her face creased with worry.
“Are you hurt? Lost?” His brows pinch as he takes in my attire, more than one question looming behind his eyes.
“Lost,” I say. That’s the easiest and most digestible thing to say. Far better than “Where are we?” or an explanation of how I got here. And before he can ask any of the questions probably sitting on the tip of his tongue, I ask, “Do you have a phone I can borrow?”