Chapter 35
Chapter
Thirty-Five
The Unveiling
“Sweetie, can you hear me?”
The voice sounded muffled but familiar. Perhaps someone she’d met before—someone who’d left a strong impression.
“Miya, please, wake up!”
The call was clearer now, more desperate.
“Miya!”
Her eyes shot open. Someone was holding her hand; cold, clammy sweat tickled her palm as she flexed her fingers and looked around.
“Thank goodness, you’re all right.”
Miya recognized her mother’s voice. She tried absorbing her surroundings, but everything looked like grey silhouettes on a dark background.
“Mom?” she tried to sit up, only to feel hands on her shoulders.
“Don’t move too fast. You’re still weak.”
Miya didn’t feel weak. “Why do you think that?”
Silence followed, the blobs in front of her only marginally discernible. She could make out another figure—a man—standing in the back of the room.
“You were missing.” Her mother’s voice cracked. “You were kidnapped.”
“How did I—”
“You don’t remember anything.”
Why was she being told rather than asked? “I don’t think I was…”
“Don’t strain yourself,” her mother hushed. “There’s no use in thinking about it. All that matters is that you’re back.”
Back from where, Miya wondered.
“Andrea.” It was her father—the man at the back of the room. “May I have a moment alone with Emiliya?”
Emiliya. He never called her that.
She heard shuffling, felt a weight lifting from the bed as her mother retreated. Why was she leaving? Before the abandonment could sink in, her father’s heavy footsteps echoed closer.
“So,” Miya chuckled, trying to break the tension, “took a kidnapping for you guys to visit me.”
He didn’t respond, but his hands fell on her shoulders and yanked her up. She winced and pulled back, trying to break free of her father’s hold.
“You’re hurting me!” She yelped in pain, but his grip only tightened.
“Don’t lie to me!” His voice shook with rage, his fingertips digging into her skin until she felt bruised. “You’re not my daughter!”
Miya grabbed his wrists. “Dad! What are you talking about? It’s me!”
“Liar!” he spat, ripping his hands away. Before she could speak, fingers curled around her throat. “You must be banished. You’re a curse on this place, and you must be exorcised!”
Miya clawed at her father’s arm, fighting for every waning breath. Her heart shrivelled as she realized she couldn’t convince him of her identity; what he saw in his daughter’s place—an imposter—was all that mattered.
What would it take for her to be seen?
Tears welled in her eyes. I don’t want to die. She couldn’t gather the breath to form the words. She had no voice, no power, no means to actualize her will.
I don’t want to die.
I can’t.
I won’t.
I won’t let them hurt me anymore.
Anger and spite crept into her, pooling like liquid fire in the pit of her stomach and imbuing her with inhuman strength as she thrashed, flailed, and finally kicked herself free. A raw, war-like scream ripped from her throat as she struck her attacker and shoved him away. Salty tears spilled over her face and washed out the grey filter that blinded her.
She saw her father slumped against the wall, his eyes wide open, blank as paper. Disoriented, Miya surveyed the room—a hospital room—then looked at her hands. They were emaciated, her fingernails broken and bloodied, dirt caught in the calluses on her palms. Then she saw the black and violet feathers cascading over her shoulders. Miya shakily felt around her head. Her hair was tangled in plumage that sprouted from her scalp like it had taken root and infected her. She squeezed one of the stems and plucked out a feather, gasping when a sharp pain shot through her spine.
“Unpleasant, isn’t it?”
Miya jolted at the intruding voice, her eyes darting up to find Kai—no, Abaddon—standing next to her father’s limp form.
“What do you want?” She crouched on the cot and inched away only to find her back against the wall.
Abaddon’s mouth twisted, his resemblance to Kai unsettling. He took a single step forward, then stopped.
“You know what happens to the girls when they return, yes?”
Miya swallowed, her neck still burning at the memory of her father choking her.
“You’re just like the rest of them.” The words were accusatory, vicious.
Miya gripped the sheets on the bed and clenched her jaw. “I won’t be a victim!” She squeezed her eyes shut, banishing the malevolent presence. She knew this was a dream, a haunting. Eventually, she’d wake up.
“And then what?” Abaddon’s voice echoed as he read her mind. “You’ll be back in the woods and only closer to your death.”
Miya straightened and caught Abaddon’s gaze with a fearsome glare.
The lull in their exchange yawned out until he looked down at her father’s lifeless body . “You’ll only hurt them,” he said in a tone that bordered on compassionate.
“What does that mean?” asked Miya, but it was too late. Thorny vines sprouted from the floor and coiled around her limbs, biting into her flesh. As though commanded by Abaddon’s laugh, they ignited into black flames.
Miya screamed and writhed against her bonds, but her blood and fear only strengthened them. The vines drew tighter, the blaze intensifying until the pain grew unbearable, and she withered and sank deeper into the dreamscape.