Chapter 31 Thorne
THORNE
The room I'm trapped in isn't big enough for me to lie down.
Not that they give me the luxury of that.
Instead, the bindings that bound my wrists together remain around my skin, but instead of connecting with each other behind my back, they hang above my head, connected to chains linked to the corners of the room.
I'm powerless.
Whatever's in these bindings undermines my abilities, giving them an advantage over me.
Time ticks by like a never-ending vortex.
I haven't seen anybody since I was dragged in here. For sure, the summons is worthy of the crime, but I don't regret it. He’s not the first person I've killed, and I’m sure he won’t be the last, not on this campus.
This, however, is the first time I'm being treated to such conditions. Usually, I’m taken to a room and held for a few hours, but I’ve never had my magic muted before, or the exasperating chains above my head.
Not only do the bindings around my wrists take away my connection to my magic, but they also drain me. Exhaustion clings to every fiber of my being as my shoulders slump and my arms ache. Numbness claimed me hours ago, and the desire to fall asleep is stronger than ever.
I try my hardest to refrain, determined to stay alert, but as every second ticks by, I find it more and more difficult. My eyelids grow drowsy, and my mind quiets. When I can no longer refrain, I'm drenched in darkness.
Sometimes I wonder if I ever truly sleep and gain rest. I simply move from one land to another—one conscious state to another. The transition never takes long before I find myself in familiar territory. The dry, bleak lands of my homeland surround me, stealing my breath as they do every time.
I recall the moments when I would play with my sister, splashing in the moat and playing tag around the trees in the distance. It's eerie to have it be this quiet, but it still offers a level of comfort I don't receive anywhere else.
As always, I take my time perusing my surroundings, absorbing every ounce of my homeland before my attention turns to my home.
It sits tall and proud, despite the derelict surroundings, protected by the moat.
I snap my fingers, uncertainty warring inside of me that the bindings restraining me in real life may affect the magic in my dreams, but a second later, the drawbridge falls down on command.
I take a step onto the wooden planks as my gaze travels higher up the building, latching on to my favorite spot.
The balcony.
Only, when I look, somebody is already there.
My chest tightens, fear pounding through my veins as I blink at the figure.
They're hidden from view in the oversized hoodie draped over their head, wearing black pants and sneakers, legs dangling over the side, in the same position I always take.
Only one other person has ever seen me in that position.
I race toward the exterior steps that lead to the balcony in question, my feet pounding the ground until I reach the top.
My breaths are harsh as I blink at the unmoved figure.
Clearing my throat, I open my mouth to speak, when they jolt so high they almost fall forward, teetering on the edge of the balcony, but they manage to curl their fingers around the ledge, rearing back as they turn to face me.
“Thorne!” she yells, jumping to her feet, and the hoodie falls down as she races toward me.
I don't have time to brace for impact before she throws herself at me, but I catch her, stumbling back as I breathe her name. “Elodie.”
Her arms tighten around my neck and she clings to me as my pulse quickens in my ears, my mind still in disbelief. I breathe her in, never wanting to let go, but after a few moments, when she leans back to stare deep into my eyes, her soft gaze caresses my face.
“Kael insisted that we give this a try. I can't believe it worked,” she explains, and I gape at her at a total loss.
“What are you doing here?” I rasp, and she smiles. It hits me straight in my soul.
“Waiting for you, of course. We need to come and help you, but we have no idea where you are.”
“I don't need helping,” I reply, holding her against me with one arm as I use the other to stroke my thumb across her cheek.
“Thorne,” she warns, cocking her brow at me, and my eyebrows gather.
Taking stock of her, I finally breathe in my surroundings as I blink at her.
“How did you get here before me?” I asked, and she shrugs, bewildered.
“I don't know. I just fell asleep praying to come here and find you, and here I am,” she explains.
Slowly, I lower her to the ground, hating the distance between us the moment I step back, but I have to understand. The situation is paramount.
Planting my hands on my hips, I circle her like a predator does their prey. I don't know how she came here the first time, but I was here then, in control of the situation. For her to be here before me can’t mean anything but…
Taking a deep breath, I offer her a tight smile. “Close your eyes,” I breathe, and she frowns.
“What?”
“Close them,” I repeat, my voice harsher than intended, but she follows the order nonetheless.
Tension radiates through her, and I know it's because of me, but I have to understand.
“Let your hands fall loose at your sides,” I murmur as she takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulders out as she shakes her arms, letting them relax.
“Have you connected with the magic inside of you?”
Her eyebrows furrow. “I don't know what you mean.”
“When someone in this world has any form of magic, it resonates inside of them. Vampires have it, wolves, witches, shadow fae, scythes, and whatever other creatures we are yet to experience. Regardless, it lives inside of them. So, have you connected with yours?”
She rakes her teeth over her bottom lip as she bounces on the soles of her feet nervously before she offers me one sharp nod, and I have my answer.
“Good,” I praise, keeping my voice as soft as I can. “How long have you felt your connection to it?” I ask, and she clears her throat.
“Just before the grass this morning, or is it yesterday now?” she admits, and my heart aches for her.
My earliest memory of my connection to my magic is before my earliest memory of my parents.
“That's okay. What color is it?” I push, and a soft smile curls the corner of her lips.
“Purple,” she offers, and I grin, despite the jitters in my chest.
“It's a fitting color for you, Echo,” I state, and she hums in agreement, attempting to pry her eyes open, but I shake my head and she closes them quickly.
“I want you to connect with that magic right now,” I state, and despite the frown that returns to her face, her body stills.
No more fidgeting, no more unease, just awareness.
I give her a few moments while I try to calm my own breathing before I push for more. “Have you felt it?”
She nods, her heart pounding so loud I can hear it from here, but she seems too scared to speak.
“Okay. Now, I want you to imagine that magic growing bigger,” I explain, my heart rate matching hers, but she shakes her head.
“I can't do that,” she whispers, and I instinctively want to run toward her, wrap her in my arms and promise her that it's all okay, but I can't move. I'm rooted to the spot, and doing so would interrupt her connection with her magic, which is the last thing we want right now.
“You've got this, Elodie. Just imagine it growing. Imagine it being big enough to circle around you,” I encourage, and she takes another deep breath.
“Is that something that scythes can do?” she asks, and I gulp.
“No,” I rasp, opting for the truth. “But try anyway.”
Seconds drag into minutes as her fingers twitch at her sides. I remain quiet, giving her the space she needs to search and attempt what I'm asking. But when nothing happens, I'm certain I'm wrong. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed. Either way, I’m confused and still without answers.
I exhale, cutting the distance between us, but when I place my hand on her shoulder, I’m jolted back as purple smoke envelops her defensively.
I skid across the floor, grappling with the stone beneath me to make me stop, and I thankfully fall still before I can smack my head on the edge of the balcony.
“Holy fuck, how is this possible?” I breathe, gaping at her as she snaps her eyelids open.
The smoke lingers for an extra moment before it evaporates, and she drops to her knees with a heavy exhale.
“What's happening to me?” she asks, fear in her tone, and all I can do is stare at her with no clear answer.
“I don’t… I don't know, Echo. All I know is that in the real world, you're a scythe. You've seen it, I've seen it. But in here, you have the traits of a shadow fae. Traits I haven’t seen for a very long time, apart from in myself.” The words sound insane on my tongue, but it’s the only explanation I’ve come up with.
“How is this possible?” she breathes, shaking her head in disbelief as she throws her arms out at her sides. “It's just a dream,” she insists.
My heart hammers wildly in my chest as I walk around her to the balcony doors.
The round brass doorknob stares at me expectantly, and my fingers tremble as I reach for it.
Before I can change my mind, I twist the handle and let the door fall open, edging it with the tip of my finger until it's opened all the way.
The room stands frozen on the other side, dust glinting in the air, while I remain frozen in place.
It's been a very long time since I've seen inside these walls, but the familiarity and the safety that once greeted me remain. The only thing that's ever stopped me from walking these halls again is the acknowledgement of the loss that comes with it.
“Are you okay?” Elodie asks, gently placing her hand on my arm, and I nod.
“I just need a minute,” I admit, trying to build the courage needed to step inside as I watch her stare into the room. To distract myself, I try to see it through her eyes.
A four-poster bed sits in the center of the far wall, with drapes hanging perfectly and a floral bedsheet spread across its surface.
An ottoman sits at the end, with my father's slippers tucked underneath.
My mother's dresser is to the right, mirrors in place, trinkets lined up, and her favorite bottle of perfume on the edge, out of place.
I imagine it's there because my sister got her hands on it. There was always a running joke in the house about how she would always steal it to smell like Mummy. And now, as I stand here staring at my parents’ bedroom, I’m transported back to that time.
It makes my breath lodge in my throat. It’s impossible to step inside.
Elodie, however, doesn't seem to harbor the same problems as I do as she tries to step into the room, but before her foot can land on the other side of the doorway, I grab her arm and tug her back.
“Thorne,” she breathes, her eyes crinkled in confusion as she frowns at me, and I shake my head.
“Don't touch anything,” I bite, and she gulps.
“I have to,” she replies, startling me, and my hold loosens enough for her to slip from my grasp.
My hands curl into fists at my side as I watch her hurry across the room like it's not the sacred time capsule that it is.
“I said—”
“Thorne, who is this?” she asks, lifting a framed picture from my father's nightstand, and my eyebrows furrow in confusion.
“My father,” I snarl, frustration burning through me as I struggle to get a handle on my emotions.
Yet she shakes her head. “No, I've seen him before in the picture in your room. Who is he?” she repeats, pointing to the man beside him, and sadness creeps in once more.
“That was my father's best friend. He died in battle,” I admit, my heart aching as I recall the joy he brought my father. The relationship they had and the laughter that would fill the halls into the early hours when they were together was unbeatable. But the moment of reminiscing is cut short as I watch Elodie’s face pale.
She gulps repeatedly before finding her words.
“No, he didn’t,” she croaks, making my muscles clench as I still find myself unable to step into the room, but she eliminates the distance between us for me, standing in the doorway with the picture in hand.
“Thorne, I've met this man before,” she explains, and my heart stills.
“When?” I hold my breath, desperate for an answer, when the sudden tendril consumes me, letting me know that I’m about to wake up. “Elodie, when?” I persist, and she trembles, her eyes finding mine a second before she speaks.
“In Jude's cell.”