Chapter 4 Jasmine
Kacey was awake bright and early, knocking a happy tune on my door.
I hadn’t slept.
I’d considered taking the plant mixture a third time, just enough to knock me under, but didn’t want to risk being unconscious by morning. Instead, I took two sips. Just enough to dull the ache.
So when she knocked, I was already there. I could feel her before she even made it across the living room, vibrating with a current of nervous excitement.
“Just wanna make sure you’ve time to shower!” she chirped, eyes bouncing over my dishevelled form with a bright smile.
It was her not-so-subtle way of saying You look like shit.
And I did.
I showered, but it wasn’t for me. Or him. I did it for her.
This was a big step for Kacey, I could feel it. Every emotion bouncing around her mind was so bright and vibrant that they kept chipping at my shield until, eventually, I gave up trying to block them.
Kacey always feels so much, so loudly, that I have to let them in.
When I came to her room, sopping-wet hair dripping down to my ribs, she beamed.
When I asked to borrow some clothes, because I refused to wear anything they might’ve sent, she lit up.
Then she launched into a flurry of motion, muttering while searching through her disorganised wardrobe, rummaging through drawers, reopening the same ones, pausing over something pink before catching my expression and dropping it.
We settled on overalls.
I’ve never worn them before. They’re a dark, worn denim, legs a little long so I rolled them up at the ankles. They’re comfortable but completely unlike me. The black long-sleeve underneath was more my style, even if a little too loose.
I hadn’t looked in a mirror before we left, avoided it honestly. But now, in the reflection of the atrium’s glass walls, I can’t stop staring.
It isn’t a true mirror; the glass is slightly warped, the light doesn’t hit quite right, but it’s enough.
I’ve lost weight. Muscle. My skin is pale, colourless. My face is too thin. My half-dried hair sits in a loose, uneven bun, with fallen pieces clinging to my cheeks like maroon shadows.
I’ve never looked like this before.
We flitted here using Kacey’s magic rock, landing straight in Ezekial’s office. I tensed at first, maybe in remembrance of the last time I was there, but it was empty.
Then we flitted again to the atrium, and the second we stepped inside, something changed in Kacey. Because here, Kacey has agency, control. This is her space, her domain.
I’m simply a guest in her world.
I’m perched on one of the planting tables now, and when I’m not studying the stranger in the glass, I’m watching Kacey bounce joyfully around, re-organising plants, muttering softly, scribbling notes, tugging on her gloves.
We didn’t set a time for her meeting; we just knew it was today. And since it was arranged yesterday, Kacey hasn’t said a word to me about the dragon, so I haven’t said a word to her.
And now, I know should be helping, doing something other than sitting here, watching, staring, but I’m just so… tired.
I glance at my hands resting in my lap, staring at how translucent my skin has become, how prominent my veins are now, how blue... I wince.
Blue.
Piercing eyes, intricate markings, that smirk—
I clutch my chest through the denim, but it doesn’t stop the ache. The pain spikes, dragging like a knife through bark, slashing and carving over and over—
Kacey’s scuffed boots appear before me.
“You need some of the mixture? I—” She pats her pockets. “Oh, you stupid idiot, Kacey! Er… I… I can make it! Just give me two seconds, well, I’ll need more than two, because I need to grind it and then—”
“K—” I croak, rubbing the bruised spot on my chest, pressing hard against the raw ache that begins to thaw. “It’s going.” I inhale shakily. “It’s fine, it’s—”
“It’s not fine, I should’ve brought it! But I’ve been so busy thinking about myself I—”
I raise my other hand to stop her. “If I took any more, it’d knock me out.”
Her face drains of colour. “I thought… but it’s in my room—how did you… You’ve had to take it that much?” Her soft question is filled with guilt, it’s a thick, clogging emotion that oozes into me.
“You’re not ready for this.” She shakes her head, eyes wide. “You’re not ready.” She turns away, pacing. “I’m so selfish. I’m such a bad friend. How could I not know that you’d been taking it?”
Then she spins back to me, eyes now glassy. “We need to leave, right now. We’re not doing this. I’m not letting you—I can’t—I—” She chokes on the words, a soft sob cutting them.
I hop off the table, stumble, but use her sadness to stabilise. She’s frantically digging through her pockets again, looking for the stone to flit. The stone I know she left on the table at the entrance.
“No,” I say, making her freeze, hand still in a pocket. Her eyes slowly rise to mine. “You can’t put this off forever, Kacey. We’re doing this today.”
“But…” She steps a little closer, voice small. “What if it’s too much? For you? For me?” More tears slip down her cheeks. “What if we can’t handle it?”
She isn’t just crying for me anymore. All her emotions, the remorse, the regret and guilt, it’s for the both of us.
“We need a signal,” I say quietly, still rubbing my chest. “Something only we’ll recognise. So that if it gets too much, we can use it.”
She slowly nods, wetting her lips and furrowing her brows in thought. “Like a word?”
“Something more subtle,” I say. “Like an action maybe? Something no one else would really notice.”
“What about if I just shake my head?”
I laugh lightly. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s very subtle, K.”
Thankfully, she sees the funny side, chuckling too before suggesting, “A thumbs down?” She tries it.
I bite my lip to stop another laugh. “I think that might be worse.”
She nods, lips pulled flat before glancing down at her gloved hand. Then she opens it, examining all five fingers, gasping out, “Pinky.”
I watch her make a fist, only leaving her pinky extended.
I smile. “Perfect. Just… don’t hold it up like that.” I make a downward gesture, and she lowers it to her side. “That’s better, nice and subtle. When—if you do that, then it’s time to go.”
Kacey nods again, wiping away remnants of tears with the heel of her hand. “Thanks, J. I seriously couldn’t do this without you.”
“You could,” I reassure her, “but I’m glad I could be here with you. You know I won’t let anything happen to you, right? I’ll be here, if you need me.”
She grins then, almost too wide, and it adds a tinge of beautiful colour to her cheeks.
I frown. “What? Why are you smiling like that?” I awkwardly laugh, rubbing the back of my neck.
“It’s nothing.” She shakes her head, still smiling. “Just sounded like someone I know.”
I don’t get to ask who because—
Fuck.
My knees buckle. I stumble, nails digging into my chest that suddenly feels on fire.
Holy fuck.
Kacey’s saying something, but her voice is muffled, then I can’t hear anything. All my senses engulfed by the agony erupting from my chest.
I step back clumsily, then take another. Again, and again until I stumble into something hard and—
Everything vanishes.
All light erased.
Then, darkness pours in, and I fall into the Dark Realm.
He’s here.
I haven’t heard that voice in eleven days.
That creepy little whisper I used to dread and despise.
At first, I thought I’d shut it out, but I was wrong. It left me.
And now, hearing it again?
I cherish it.
The ache in my chest finally eases for the first time in eleven days. I drag in a breath so sharp it stings. The air is always colder here, cleaner, medicinal. It fills me, soothes me, grounds me all at once.
He’s here.
Another inhale, a slower exhale.
For the first time in days, I can breathe. I can finally fucking breathe.
Was it always like this? Always this painless, this simple? I’ll never take it for granted again. Not the cold, the voice, this realm.
When the pain became too much, when Kacey found me crying on the bathroom floor, begging for release, I tried to come back here. But I couldn’t.
It wouldn’t let me. Like I was being punished.
Kacey’s serum dulled the edges, but never for long, never enough, never permanently.
But now, finally, the darkness welcomes me again, swaddling me in vines of darkness, eradicating the never-ending ache until it’s almost completely gone.
I’m only here for a second before it starts to fracture, like a glass dome cracking, light and colour splinter their way back in, but that’s all it takes. That’s all I needed.
I re-emerge.
Kacey startles at my sudden return. She stares at me, fresh tears shimmering in her eyes, but before she can speak—she jolts.
The temperature rises fast. So quickly, beads of sweat form along her forehead almost instantly.
She turns towards the heat, drawn to it, just as several ghostly creatures spawn around her—one of which is familiar.
Mr Bear.
I haven’t seen him since the night Kacey met her bond, but now he resumes his normal position like he never left. Stood behind Kacey, large paws resting gently on her shoulders, and when he glances at me with those empty purple eyes, it’s like he’s saying something. Something that brings warmth.
Then he turns, looking towards the heat.
And so do I.
There.
There he is.
I feel his gaze for a split second, barely catching a glimpse of his outline, I don’t even reach his face before—
He’s gone.
The ache hits instantly. I force myself to ignore it, but the once-pleasant chill is now piercing, slicing, and even the air feels like nettles prickling my skin.
The urge to find him, return to the cold, to him—
I bite my cheek, hard. The metallic tang of blood helping to ground me.
I can’t go to him. Not now. Not ever.
So I force myself to stay, turning instead to the other man. The dragon shifter. Kacey’s bond.
And his amber eyes are locked, solely focused, on her.