Chapter 5
Five
Darkness.
It wasn’t just the absence of light; it was a void, heavy and endless, pressing down on me from every direction. My body felt weightless, yet every breath—if I was breathing at all—was an effort. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t feel. It was as though the world had folded in on itself, leaving me suspended in nothingness.
Then, a flicker.
Not light exactly, but something less suffocating. A thread of sensation crept back into my awareness—cold, damp, metallic. The theater. I remembered the jagged edge of the stage, the sharp pain at the back of my head, the warmth pooling beneath me. My chest tightened as the memory surged back.
The fall. Their laughter.
And then… nothing.
I gasped, or thought I did. My lungs didn’t burn the way they should have, but the instinct was there. Slowly, the darkness receded, and I opened my eyes—or perhaps I had never closed them. The familiar, crumbling theater materialized around me, blurry and distorted, like looking through warped glass.
The silence was deafening. Not the quiet of a late night or an empty room, but the heavy, stifling absence of sound that made my ears ring. I pushed myself up—or tried to. My arms wavered as though the floor had turned to quicksand beneath me. My chest didn’t rise or fall, yet I wasn’t suffocating.
“Am I dead?” I whispered, my voice brittle and unfamiliar, like it didn’t belong to me anymore. “Is this… the afterlife?”
My knees scraped against the wooden floor as I crawled forward, the jagged edges of broken boards scratching at my hands. The lights above flickered weakly, casting the theater in shifting shadows. I reached for the edge of the stage, my fingers trembling as I pulled myself to stand.
And then I saw it.
Me.
My own body lay crumpled near the foot of the stage, half-hidden in the flickering shadows. The simple black dress I’d chosen with such care clung to my still figure, the fabric now torn and smeared with blood. My legs were bent at unnatural angles, and my head lolled to the side, exposing the gash at the back of my skull where the plank had split the skin.
A strangled noise escaped my throat, somewhere between a gasp and a sob. I stumbled backward, clutching the edge of the stage for support. My own lifeless eyes stared blankly into the void, their once-vivid spark extinguished.
“No,” I whispered, shaking my head. “No, no, no…”
But the image didn’t waver. It wasn’t a trick of the light or a cruel hallucination. It was me—my body. Broken and abandoned, left to rot in this desolate place.
The air around me grew colder, the shadows pressing closer. I staggered forward, an involuntary urge to touch my body overtaking me. My hand hovered above my face—my face—but I couldn’t bring myself to make contact.
“I’m dead,” I said, the words tumbling out in a shaky breath. “This is real. I’m… dead.”
The theater seemed to groan in response, the creak of its old bones filling the silence. I stumbled back again, tripping over the hem of my dress—no, the dress my body wore. I glanced down at myself, only to realize that I was still dressed the same, the black fabric unmarred by blood or dirt. My skin looked pale, almost translucent, and the faint shimmer of something otherworldly danced along my fingertips.
I collapsed onto the stage, trembling. My gaze darted back to my body, to the pool of blood that had seeped into the wooden floorboards, staining them forever. “Why am I still here?” I whispered. “Why didn’t I… move on?”
The silence pressed down on me again, but this time, I felt something else—a pull. It wasn’t physical, but it tugged at my very essence, at the invisible threads that bound me to this world. I closed my eyes, focusing on the sensation. The bond stirred within me, faint and fragile, like threads pulling in different directions. Five threads. Five directions.
My mates.
A sob broke from my throat, raw and guttural. “They didn’t even look back.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on the bonds. I reached for one, my fingers brushing against something unseen. The connection flared, and suddenly, the theater fell away.
Thorne.
His face filled my vision, sharper than memory, more real than a dream. He was in a dimly lit bar, his signature smirk nowhere in sight. He leaned over the counter, gripping the edge so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw was clenched, his breath uneven as he stared at the glass in front of him. Regret seeped through the bond, sharp and bitter.
The image shifted, the bond pulling me in a different direction.
Kael.
He was outside, the glow of a cigarette illuminating his face. He leaned against the railing of the dorm balcony, his fingers drumming against the metal as he stared into the distance. The usual arrogance in his expression was replaced by something unreadable, his movements restless. He didn’t look at ease, even in his solitude.
Another shift.
Lucian.
He sat in the corner of a crowded room, a drink in his hand as he watched the chaos unfold around him. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes were sharp, scanning the crowd as if searching for something—or someone. The bond trembled, a faint echo of unease threading through it.
Aeron.
He was in the library, the faint glow of his laptop screen casting shadows across his face. His usual detachment was gone, replaced by a furrowed brow and restless movements as he scrolled through page after page of something. His fingers tapped against the desk, his frustration palpable through the bond.
The last thread pulled harder, tighter.
Ciaran.
He stood in his dorm room, his hands buried in his hair as he began pacing back and forth. The storm in his eyes was clearer than ever, his emotions crashing into mine like waves. Anger, guilt, confusion—they bled through the bond, raw and unfiltered.
The threads snapped back, and I was in the theater again, gasping for air I didn’t need. My legs gave out beneath me, and I collapsed onto the floor, trembling.
They didn’t care. Not enough to stay. Not enough to help. But somewhere, deep in their hearts, they felt something. Regret. Guilt. Fear.
But it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.