Chapter 1 #2
“Oh, one last thing. Kate was supposed to cut back the overgrowth at the outer boundary today. Do you think you can handle that?” he says, connecting his hands together and resting them on his desk.
I take a deep breath, clenching my fists together behind my back, my smile automatically settling on my face.
“Yes, of course.”
What was that I said earlier about today’s list of jobs being less than yesterday's?
So much for my small win.
I’m sitting in the staff room, curled up with my legs to my chest on the sofa, finishing what remains of my lunch when Sam walks in, ruffling my hair as he goes past. He stops in the kitchen, opening the fridge before casting a glance my way.
“So, what did you agree to this time?” he says, his brow arching.
“It’s fine, Sam, really. I don’t mind doing the extra jobs,” the lie rolls off my tongue so easily now that I almost feel bad for myself.
Almost.
“Ruth told me that Kate phoned in sick. Of course, none of us are surprised,” he says, filling his cup with hot water. He turns to me, gesturing with the kettle, “Want one?” he asks me, moving to grab another mug.
“No, I’m fine, thank you. Just finished my coffee.”
My third coffee of the day, actually. Not that I’d let him know that.
He has been trying to reduce my caffeine intake for years now.
He will never succeed.
“So, if I had to guess,” he mumbles. “He asked you to take Kate’s duties today?” he asks me, stirring the milk into his mug and throwing the spoon into the sink before making his way to the table and sitting in front of me.
“Um, yes, actually. He did, but it’s not so bad. He just wants me to clear the overgrowth at the outer boundary,” I say, looking back down at my lunch and placing the rest of my uneaten sandwich back onto my plate. No way will I tell him he’s also asked me to work my day off.
I will never hear the end of it.
He shakes his head at me.
“Shit, El. That’s a long ass job. That’s not even Kate’s job either. I told him I’m on overgrowth duty,” he says, giving me that pitiful look he usually sends my way.
“Well, it’s a good job I started my day early then, isn’t it?” I say, clicking my tongue. “I’m gonna head out there now.” Scraping the leftovers of my lunch into the bin, I grab a bottle of water from the fridge.
“I’ll do the overgrowth, don’t worry,” he says through a mouthful of food.
“Sam, I promise you it won’t even take me long. Do you know where the good cutting blades are?”
“Take mine,” he drops his food down and moves to grab something from his pocket.
“Oh no, that’s okay. I can just find some in the shed.” I say.
“Elodie, just take mine. I don’t need them today. I’m in the glasshouses. Water and moisture checks.” He grins at me.
Lucky bastard.
“Well, if you’re sure. Thank you.” I say. He hands me a small pocket blade, his ‘lucky’ blade as he calls it. With its pure white handle, it looks like some kind of family heirloom. Though heirloom seems kind of ironic, especially when I know his emergency contact form is empty.
Just like mine is.
We never talk about it, but it’s a weight we both carry.
“That ivy is stubborn, take this.” I grab the small blade from his hand, placing it gently in my overalls pocket.
“Thank you, I won’t be long.”
“No problem, but listen, I don’t mind doing the overgrowth for you, seriously.”
“No, it’s okay, really! It doesn’t bother me. I truly don’t mind.” He pauses before continuing with his food. “Well, I’ll stop by anyway and give you a hand,” he says. I shake my head at him, smiling. “You are my favourite friend. Did you know that?” I say, giving him a sarcastic smile.
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, I’m pretty sure I’m your only friend,” he laughs. “See you later, El,” he replies, smirking at me. I narrow my eyes at him, giving him my fake frown before calling,
“Bye, Sam.” I give him a small wave, then head out back to start my walk to the outer boundary.
I’m almost done clearing the overgrowth by the time the sun has made its way around me, warming the back of my neck.
The wheelbarrow is full, piled high with ivy leaves. Roots tangled together as if they’ve been holding on for years. My gloves are streaked dark with soil and green sap. I feel that familiar dull ache in my arms, the one that comes from doing a job properly instead of doing it in a rush.
I check my phone, noticing I’m half an hour over my finishing time.
It’s not the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. I set my phone down on the wall beside me, trying not to coat it in soil.
Wiping the sweat from my brow with the back of my hand, I stand up, shaking the soil from my knees.
Most of the ruins are clear now.
It’s older than I expected, pale stone beneath the ivy.
I assume it was once an archway, half crumbled and incomplete now.
Clumps of stones together, cracked and weathered.
I run the blade of Sam’s knife along the last stubborn vine and feel it finally give.
The tension snapping cleanly, I almost stumble back.
Pulling the last vine away, I notice a section of the arch that feels different.
Not damaged or discoloured.
The opposite actually.
It’s completely whole, no chips or cracks.
A stark contrast to the other stones. It looks almost new compared to the rest.
Maybe someone restored it, but then why change just the middle stone?
Its surface is smoother and warmer beneath the sunlight. I hesitate, then pull one glove off, tucking it into my back pocket. I’m not sure why it’s caught my attention as much as it has, but I lean into my curiosity anyway.
The air stills around me, quiet in a way that is peaceful but sudden.
No bird songs.
No voices.
Lonely but freeing.
Just the soft sound of my breathing.
My palm finds the smooth surface of the stone. Warmth blooming on my hand immediately. Frowning, I shift my weight and lean closer to it, checking for looseness, but the stone doesn’t budge.
Something blue suddenly flutters past my shoulder. I turn my head just in time to see it settle on the top of the wall next to me, delicate wings catching the last of the sunlight.
A blue butterfly.
Its colour vivid against the pale stone, it opens and closes its wings as if to greet me. I smile despite myself.
“Hello,” I murmur, the words instinctive, pointless. I slowly raise my hand towards it, not entirely sure why.
The sunlight shifts just a fraction. Enough that the butterfly's wings cast a soft shadow across the stone beneath my hand.
Light spills out the sides of the stone, a soft, warm glow that creeps beneath my skin and up my wrist.
A vibration begins at my feet, and I gasp, curling my fingers and pulling away from the stone. But whatever is happening is now beyond my control.
My heart is thudding as I straighten and take a small step to steady myself, pressure building in my ears. I turn to step back, but the world seems to come apart beneath my feet, as though sudden frost has locked me in place.
The world doesn’t disappear.
It tilts, as though I’ve been completely uprooted and yanked from the soil below.
The air releases all at once, and suddenly the gardens were gone. Stone replaces the grass beneath my feet. The sounds of striking steel replace the once peaceful silence.
Voices and the sharp bark of commands ring out in the air.
Completely frozen, I look around me.
I’m standing in the middle of a wide stone yard.
A wall of armoured bodies stretches out in every direction.
And behind them, a stone castle rises from the ground, narrow towers climbing toward the sky.
I’m surrounded by a sea of steel armour, dozens of knights, each armed with a weapon.
They seem to be engaged in some form of training before they halt, mid-motion, with lowered blades and every face turned toward me.
My breath catches, shallow and fast.
The crowd of knights in front of me parts slowly as someone steps forward.
Tall, broad shoulders.
Green eyes, sharp and focused through his helmet.
Clearly a leader of some sort, he pauses in front of me, looking me up and down.
My heart pumps wildly in my chest. Fear, confusion, and uncertainty each pushing through my thoughts. Neither of us says a word until he breaks the silence with one word that sends me into a full panic.
“Fuck.”