Chapter 4
Charisma
Did she take her pills? Was it a good day or a bad day? Did she eat? Did Dad do something to her again?
My blood boiled in my veins, and fingers clenched into fists at the thought.
He would not hurt her again, not as long as I live, was the promise I’d made to myself all those years ago.
To keep it, I couldn’t afford to just stand here any longer.
I wouldn’t find a better moment than this: night had arrived, which meant everyone was asleep, the trials had yet to begin, and I held a tiny, possibly trivial, means of self-defense.
It was now or never.
There was a way out—that I knew for certain—and the idea was only supported by the fact that Zeus had cast a spell over the other eleven contestants to not even attempt to search for escape.
As soundlessly as possible, I slipped my hand under the pillow, grabbed the dagger and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. My teeth sunk into my bottom lip when I gripped the boots between my fingers, tip-toeing toward the exit.
I held my breath, my hand brushing against the door handle. All I had to do was open it and then I wouldn’t have to worry about the 226688. I pressed down and—
“Where are you going?”
My lungs drew in some air. Goddamn it. I closed my eyes for a moment before turning around and finding him between the shadows of the night.
“Going for a run. It helps me clear my head,” I said, deciding the half-truth was the way to go.
His wings batted as he neared me. “In your nightwear?”
I glanced down, the carpet tickling my bare toes as I surveyed the luxurious satin pajamas he’d conjured onto my bed with a mere snap of his fingers not long ago.
“Yes. I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Mm-hmm.” He dragged the sound out, and with a flick of his fingers, I was back into the uniform I woke up in. “That’s better. You won’t mind if I join you?” he asked, stopping mid-way for a yawn.
“I would mind. I’d like to be alone.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion, mortal. I know I’m a small guy, but do not try to fool me. I know what you’re doing.”
Without even meaning to, I arched a brow. “And what is that?”
226688 sighed loudly. “Don’t you get it? There’s no way out. Stop searching for it.”
“See? Now I know you’re lying.”
“And you reached that conclusion, how?”
I paid him no mind, slipping my feet into the boots and then securing the laces. One minute later, I dug my palms into the front pockets of my pants and walked out of the room with one destination in mind: the exit door.
“You’re wasting your energy and time when you should be focusing on training! Last night you didn’t train like everyone else.” He paused for a breath before he shook his head. “And now she’s staring at a wall. Just so you know, your survival skills are lacking.”
I squinted. “I am not staring at a wall. It’s a door,” I said, with my eyes pointed at the fairy. I twisted my wrist on the doorknob and listened to the rusty hinges creaking as the door swung open.
“You’re worrying me,” he whispered, biting his fingernails.
“What?”
“You are worrying me.”
“I heard you the first time. I’m just not sure what exactly it is about me that worries you.”
226688 glanced between the door and me, a gleam of something in his eyes, as if some critical detail had escaped me. “Perhaps the fact that you see things that aren’t there?”
My eyebrows drew together.
“Ha-ha, you’re so funny,” I deadpanned and walked out, not wanting to listen to any more of his nonsense.
As I stepped over the threshold, a strange tingling sensation shot through my arms and legs, the air around me seeming to expand then compress. It was then that the realization dawned on me: this wasn’t an exit door.
The room held an uncanny stillness—every sound was swallowed before it could be born.
Over my shoulder, I found the fairy’s mouth hanging agape, his lips forming a silent O.
“Charisma, come out from wherever you are.” His voice was a whisper behind me. I closed the door, the wood vibrating from the impact.
Even though this wasn’t what I hoped to find, a wave of relief washed over me as I savored a moment of solitude, my eyelids fluttering shut as I drew in a long, freeing breath. I parted my lids, returning to sight, and allowed my eyes to sail to the transparent boxes saturated with peonies.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.
Eight tanks. Four on either side of me.
My fingers brushed against a flower’s petals, and they gave way like a trusting creature, its stem slanting melancholically. I tucked my bottom lip under my teeth, peeling off a thin layer of dead skin as my gaze traveled over the peonies, robbed of any light.
I was bewildered by how they survived without sun, but I felt my way forward, my hands straining to find a hint of a light switch on the wall or perhaps another door. There had to be a way out of the chamber building. Right?
After circling endlessly and finding no sign of what I sought, I paused and bit my lower lip.
From a logical standpoint, if I were the mastermind behind this, I would never give the contestants an opportunity to leave.
Even so, moving from one spot to another was a necessity, and this was only possible through… veyrithing.
No. No. Veyrithing couldn’t be the sole method to get out of here. There had to be another way.
The skin on my arms prickled with a strange awareness and a snake feeling danced down my spine.
Deja vu, they called it; that odd sensation, like a memory resurfacing, an impression that I’d been there before.
A weary breath rolled off my tongue, stirring the floating particles in the air.
I moved toward the room’s edge, the cool wall brushing my back as I lowered myself to the ground, my arms coming on top of my knees.
My head snapped straight on my shoulders as I felt a subtle pressure lifting against my skin, a sensation akin to a shift in the air. I froze, scanning the room, my eyes darting from one corner to another, looking in between the flowers and shadows—anywhere someone might watch from.
There was no one. Yet the feeling still clung to me.
I knew someone was watching me. The air seemed to ripple with each subtle move of my gaze, as if the observer vanished in the same instant.
“Hello?” I said, my voice throaty and dry.
The quiet hum grew louder in my chest. I couldn’t stop my imagination from filling in the gaps—a pair of eyes, dark and murky in between the flowers; a figure crouched, hiding behind them, breath held tight.
I slowly rose to my feet and regretted the decision as soon as I straightened. I felt safer on the ground, and standing made me a vulnerable target—there was a space between the wall and me, large enough for someone to slip behind before I could realize.
Why did I not sense them the moment I entered?
I crept toward the exit, my head turning with each creak of the floorboards beneath my feet. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead, my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. I held my breath, terrified that even a whisper of air could cover the sound of an approaching person.
At the thought, I turned around, my hair slapping on my back. I almost yelped at the contact, but bit my bottom lip instead, unwilling to let any noise out.
I had to get out of here.
With a twist of the doorknob, I dashed across the threshold, and the click of the door brought a sigh of relief as the crisp scent of the open air filled my lungs.
“Where were you? What happened in there?” 226688 questioned, not even letting me catch my breath. He crossed his arms over his chest, silently criticizing me for not listening.
I didn’t know what had happened either. The strange feeling remained even after exiting. Unlike me, the fairy couldn’t see the door. The room itself was an anomaly. While in appearance it seemed ordinary, its depths held a secret I could not identify.
Whether it was a person or a creature skulking in the shadows, it raised all the hairs on my body to attention. It was a warning I wouldn’t ignore—I was never going back through that door.
Perhaps it was just another trick in the gods’ world. Could it be Zeus’s doing? No. He wouldn’t have bothered with something so insignificant.
It was all in my head. I imagined it all. It wasn’t real, I forced myself to believe.
“Nothing,” I mumbled, hoping that speaking the words aloud would solidify the thought.
My lips parted as a long, drawn-out sigh slipped out; my heart was galloping and racing so fast that it suffocated out all other sounds.
The dining room offered no escape; I scanned the walls, but the only visible openings were the doors leading into each of the other rooms. My assumption was correct. The only way out was through veyrithing.
When we reached my room, the soft mattress of the bed cushioned my weary body as I collapsed onto it, a defeated sigh escaping my lips. I stayed awake the entire night, observing the sky shift from the deepest dark to the first light of day.
There was only a small collection of things I experienced in this life and scarcely any of them satisfied me at a fundamental level. Perhaps if my position on the social ladder was different, the list might be greater—but since that was not the case, it came down to only three.
Books, running, and food—in no particular order, though food might just be at the top of that short list. It was possible, of course, that the order of their importance was due to the fact that while reading and jogging were accessible for me daily, a good meal wasn’t.
And so, with abundant reasons to hate my time spent among the gods, their food made it—somehow—tolerable.