Chapter 3 Brille Rouge #2
Rafe is out there. Alone. Taken because he protected someone else. Taken because I wasn’t there to protect him.
And I’m stuck on the other side of the veil, unable to reach him.
Binx crawls higher, pressing his small forehead beneath my chin. That helps. Having my soul-pet with me always helps me calm down, and as he chirps gently, I shudder out a breath.
“I’m going,” I tell him. “If you’d rather I take you to Sombra first, I can. But there’s no one who can go after Rafe but me.”
I believe that wholeheartedly. Why? No clue. But as though something is telling me that this is it, this is the prophecy Mom mentioned beginning to unfold, I know I’m right. I have to figure out a way to go after Rafe, though I refuse to put Binx in any danger—
He makes a sharp sound.
“I know, but—”
He swishes his tail.
“Of course you can come, but—”
He nuzzles the side of my throat. I swallow the lump that suddenly lodges there.
“Okay, Binx. We go together.”
He chitters softly, and I let out a soft sight, ready to try again. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll try and I’ll try, and whatever’s keeping me out will have to push forever because that’s how long it’ll take before I stop.
It doesn’t occur to me to ask Rafe’s dad for help. Loki’s a mage and a whizz with travel spells, but this… this is something I have to do.
I’m lifting my hand when, suddenly, a flicker of movement catches my eye.
I turn just in time to see it drift in my path.
To my stunned surprise, it’s a butterfly, but so unlike the faripoz in Sombra.
Instead of glowing white against the shadows, this butterfly has orange-and-black wings.
They’re tattered at the edges, one side nearly completely torn, making it wobble as it flaps toward me.
My breath catches.
Binx goes very still.
I’ve seen one of those before. One of the first paintings I remember Dad making for me was a landscape that featured Sombra on one half of the canvas, Earth on the other.
Dark shadows, fiery ash fields, dark trees, and Sombra’s two moons compared to a blue human sky, green ground, and so much light.
That’s not all, either. After my rescue as an infant, it became clear that the faripoz in Sombra had imprinted on me. Dad painted white butterflies on the Sombra side. On the Earth side? Butterflies in so many different shapes and sizes and colors.
Including one with orange-and-black wings.
Later, when me, Mom, and Dad took one of our trips to her world, she pointed out the very same butterfly pasting through our mist, concealing us from the mortals. Tucked in Dad’s shadows, she giggled when the butterfly landed on my nose before fluttering away.
A monarch butterfly, she called it, and one that’s native to Earth.
So what is it doing in Brille Rouge?
When it lands on my outstretched fingers, the contact sends a jolt through me. My shadows surge in response, no longer unyielding as they struggle to create another portal, but pulling me somewhere.
Pulling me to Noctavara.
Because it doesn’t belong in Brille Rouge, does it? It belongs in Noctavara—and, suddenly, the rift between this realm and that one is open.
At the same tie, the ground beneath my feet darkens, shadows stretching and twisting, opening into a rippling rectangle as I finally summon another portal.
My heart hammers. Fear coils tight in my chest, but I banish it. And then I hear Mom’s worried words echoing in my ears again.
Her broken wings will only end the curse when her own heart stops…
I look down at the butterfly, its broken wings trembling against my skin.
“I don’t care,” I tell the strange creature. “Not if it means saving him.”
Binx chirps once in agreement before scrambling fully onto my shoulder, resuming his usual pose.
With one hand on his rump, I step forward.
For a heartbeat, the shadows close in around us. In the next, they’re spitting us out again.
I stumble forward, boots skidding on ground that’s too solid, too real, and barely catch myself before I would’ve ended up pitching face-first into the damp earth.
The portal snaps shut behind me with a sound like a breath being sucked in, and the sudden silence that follows is worse than the noise in Nuit ever was.
I straighten slowly.
The air here is… different.
Katrin said they were fire demons, but Sombra is far warmer than this world.
It’s cool, but not cold; not like Earth.
The air is thick, like it’s been sitting still for centuries.
Above me, the sky is caught in a perpetual twilight with a silver moon and a spattering of stars filtering through the interlaced branches over my head.
Trees surround me. Not the ash-dark giants of Sombra’s shadows, but silver-barked trunks twisted in unfamiliar shapes, their leaves narrow and dark, whispering softly to one another even though there’s no wind strong enough to justify the sound.
My heartrate kicks up. My shadows curl instinctively around my boots, seeking comfort. I do the same to Binx, burying my fingers through his fur.
“Alright,” I murmur, forcing calm into my voice. “New world, new rules.”
Binx shifts on my shoulder, his small body taut, ears twitching as he listens to things I can’t hear yet. His tail flicks once, twice, uneasy, but not panicked. Not yet.
That’s good.
If Binx isn’t panicking, I won’t either.
I take a careful step forward, looking around and, thankfully, seeing no one.
The cushioned ground gives beneath my boot with a faint, wet sound. Somewhere to my left, something scuttles away, quick and low to the ground. Farther off, a branch creaks. My quickened breath matches the sound.
The woods are not quiet. Oh, no. They’re listening.
I swallow and move again, slower this time, every sense stretched thin. The farther I go, the more aware I become of how alone I am. No portals humming at my back. No easy escape tugging at my spine.
Rafe.
The thought of him being trapped in this spooky realm steadies me.
“I’ll find you,” I whisper, not caring who hears. “I promise.”
A soft flutter draws my attention upward.
Tattered orange-and-black wings drift between the branches ahead, the same butterfly from before moving with lazy certainty, as if it knows exactly where it’s going. And maybe it does because, as I watch it, it winks out of sight.
“Figures,” I mutter.
I move closer, hoping it’s just a trick of the dim light. The way I see it, the butterfly brought me here. If I’m lucky, it’ll bring me to Rafe.
The woods seem to close in as I walk, trees growing closer together, the air dimming further until the light feels filtered through smoke. My shadows trail behind me, thinner than I like, clinging instead of flowing.
That’s when I hear it.
A footstep.
Not heavy. Not clumsy.
Close.
I pause.
Binx freezes, claws pricking lightly through the fabric of my dress as he lowers himself, making his ungez body smaller than usual.
The sound doesn’t come again.
I turn slowly, scanning the trees, every muscle coiled tight. “Hello?” I call, keeping my tone even. Unafraid. I’m full of it, of course, but whoever’s out there has no clue.
Right?
I strain my ears, but nothing happens. No one answers.
I exhale roughly, annoyed with myself for being so jumpy, and take another hesitant step, peering upward as I do, back to looking for the butterfly.
And that’s when I find a sharp blade at my throat.