Chapter 42
Flashback
Raven
The sunlight dances on the surface of the lake, sparkling like a thousand tiny diamonds, casting patterns across the rippling water. The frigid waves lap against my skin that are sharp and biting at first, but their rhythm pulls me into a strange, focused calm.
I’ve done this enough times now, that the initial shock of the cold barely lingers.
The faster I steady my breathing, the quicker I can cross the lake and back. And then I can get out.
The freezing water claws at my skin, but I push through it. My legs kick harder, propelling me forward as the cold steals what little strength I have. Every inhale burns in my chest, and every exhale hangs in the crisp morning air around me.
On the shore, I can see my grandfather standing with his eyes locked on me. He's staring at me with that same intensity that somehow feels both comforting and demanding. “Come on, Raven!” His voice rips through the cold. “You’re stronger than this.”
My muscles scream in protest and my body's begging me to stop, but I don’t. I can’t. He always said he’d teach me about control, though I'm still not sure how that translates to hypothermia drills, but here we are.
My hand finally brushes against the icy gravel on the shore, and I slowly drag myself out of the water. My body trembles violently as the cold burrows deeper into my bones. My teeth chatter so hard I’m sure they’ll crack.
My grandfather's right there, wrapping a thick blanket around my shoulders, pulling me close. His warmth is immediate, and I can't help but relax into him. “Good job, Bird,” he murmurs. His voice carries that familiar warmth that somehow makes everything feel okay.
I nod, too breathless and frozen to respond. Thank God that's over.
“See? You’re stronger than you think.” The edge fades from his voice as his hand settles firm against my shoulder. “It’s about control. You must keep trying.”
The walk back home is quiet, and the only sound is the crunch of gravel under our boots. When he finally speaks, his tone is thoughtful.
“You know, sometimes we have to face the things we fear most to figure out who we really are.”
I drift in and out of consciousness, and time loses all meaning. Minutes? Hours? It all bleeds together into something strange and surreal.
Voices hum in the background, but they're muffled and I can't make out anything specific. It's like I’m hearing them through water or a thick wall. My head's heavy, my body's worse, and reality? Well, that’s nowhere to be found.
Cam’s voice cuts through the haze, slicing through my sluggish thoughts. I force myself to grab them, but the words are slippery and disjointed. “... dangerous... no… I don't know… witch…”
I don’t know how much time passes before I hear voices again. They're clearer now, but still warped, like a radio stuck between stations. “Stronger… he wouldn't… it has to be.”
It has to be what?
The words lodge in my chest, dragging something to the surface that I can’t quite name. My gut twists in protest, and my body refuses to cooperate. My eyes stay stubbornly shut, no matter how much I fight to open them.
I try again, but it feels like my limbs are weighed down with lead. The more I try, the more the room spins, and it’s nauseating.
Voices filter through again, and I catch bits and pieces on the edges of my awareness. “... she has it… training… if the veil drops… No?” The words slip by, impossible to grasp.
Another wave of dizziness slams into me, but this time, I hear a female voice. “The King… how much time… lying… I hope so.”
The mention of a king sends a cold ripple of unease down my spine, and for a second, I want to scream. The only problem is, I’m too weak, and too lost in this swirling fog to grasp anything for long. My voice won’t even work to scream, at least I don’t think so. I try, but I can’t hear anything.
All I can hear is rain against the window, and the thunder rumbling in the distance. Usually it's the kind of thing that would knock me right out. Tonight, it just feels like background noise to the mess in my head.
“Look outside,” someone says. Their tone is cold and condescending. Then I hear, “Conscious enough…”
My limbs feel disconnected, like they belong to someone else entirely. I want to scream at them, demand answers, or do something, but all I can do is float here.
The voices fade into the background again, leaving me stranded. My grandfather’s voice pushes me forward and my grandmother’s stories echo in my ears.
And behind it all, I can hear the storm, wild and furious.
Everything spins together in a violent whirlwind I can’t escape.
I open my eyes and the steam from the bath curls around me.
My grandmother stands in the doorway with that familiar smile that always makes me feel safe.
“Come on, Bird,” she says, her voice rich with affection.
“Ye can’t sit in the bath forever. I’ve got one of your favorite stories planned for tonight. Come on then, here’s ye a towel.”
I reach for it, and the corners of my mouth lift into a small, content smile.
Wrapping the towel around myself, I step out of the bath onto the cold tile, and it's a sharp contrast to the warm water I was just in. She motions for me to follow her into the bedroom, patting the space next to her as she sits down on the bed.
Once I settle in, she tucks the blanket around me with the care only she could give. I lean into her, breathing in the comforting scent of lavender and fresh linen.
“Tonight, my love, is all about the Lightning Queen,” she begins. Her soft voice weaves the story into the quiet room. “A woman born under twins. She’s wild and has a spirit that could bend magic itself.”
Her voice lowers slightly, drawing me closer. “She’ll rise on the night of her birth, under the season that greets the rising moon.”
I’m captivated. My small hands clutch the blanket as I hang on her every word. “With the power to walk between worlds, she restores the balance where there is none. When the planets and the fates and all the stars align, blood will spill, promises will bind, and souls will collide.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, because apparently my nervous system likes to keep things dramatic. She pauses, and her eyes go distant, and suddenly I'm left trying to decode an expression that refuses to give me anything.
“But,” she says, her voice softening. “She’s the key…”
Her eyes sharpen suddenly, locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
“She must die. Only then can she break the curse.”
Her lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile.
Suddenly, a shadow flickers at the edge of my vision, and it looks like a figure lingering just beyond the doorway. My grandmother’s smile falters for a heartbeat, and her gaze shifts behind me. It’s subtle, but the spark of warmth in her eyes dims, replaced by something cold.
I try to turn, to look, but my grandmother’s grip tightens on my hand—her touch suddenly colder than it should be. “Don’t,” she whispers. Her eyes flicker with something that looks like …fear. “Not yet. You’re not ready.”
The shadow moves into the room, and its presence is heavy. My heart pounds, and I feel a strange pull.
“Raven…” The voice is soft, carrying a faint echo, like whispers overlapping. I try again to look, but her grip is tight. “You don’t belong here… not yet…”
I look at my grandmother, but something about her has changed. Her expression has gone cold, and her grip tightens painfully around my arm. When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a flash or something.
Her lips curl into a smile that doesn’t belong to her. “About time you came out to play.” Her voice is different, I've never heard her talk like this before. “This should be fun.”
A searing heat spreads from her touch, burning into my skin like a brand. Panic claws at my throat as I try to pull away, but her hold is unbreakable.
Suddenly, she blinks, and her eyes widen in shock. Her mouth twists into a snarl. “WINDOWS. NOW!”
Slowly, I manage to pry my eyes open, and it feels like a goddamn marathon.
Everything around me is blurry, the edges softened by sleep or… whatever the hell this is. I blink a few times, trying to clear my vision, and sunlight spills through the window, flooding the room.
For a second, I wonder if the rain was just a dream. The rhythmic drumming on the glass is gone, and the only thing left is a suffocating silence that feels too loud.
Another blink, and the ache hits deep enough that it feels like it's chewing through my bones. My body's wrecked, like it got steamrolled and then ran back over just for fun. Every muscle screams when I try to move, but I try anyway.
“Raven!” Cam's voice slices through the room, yanking me out of my haze.
He appears in a blur, looking like a walking anxiety attack. His brows are drawn so tight I’m surprised they haven’t fused into a permanent unibrow.
“You’re awake.” Relief flashes across his face for half a second before he leans down and pulls me into a quick, painful hug.
The kind that says thank God you’re not dead.
He pulls back and plops down beside me, resting his hand lightly on mine, but he's looking at me like he’s worried I might bolt or dissolve into a pile of dust.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that telling a girl to calm down is a bad idea?” I croak out. My throat is so dry it feels like I’ve swallowed sandpaper. “What… happened?”
Cam lets out a breath, and a humorless chuckle follows after.
His shoulders loosen, but barely. “You… lost control. I had to do something. I'm sorry, but it was the only way to keep you safe.” His gaze flicks down to where his hand still rests over mine before he meets my eyes again. Something unspoken hovers in the air, and I can feel it crawling under my skin. “You’ve been out for… a bit.”
“How long is a bit?” I already know I’m not going to like the answer.
“Three days.”