18
Darana
Sunrise at Birdsong Hills has always been my favorite time of day.
The only moment of the day when the world seems to pause before everything starts moving, demanding, and—damn it—hurting.
Light streams through the tall windows of the main barn, filtering between the ancient eucalyptus beams. The scent of fresh alfalfa mingles with that raw, warm, animal smell that always reminds me of who I am.
This is where everything makes sense. Far from the paperwork, the debts, and the shadows that have been haunting me ever since my brother died.
I move among the stalls, cleaning the mares’ hooves with the ease of someone performing a sacred ritual. I run my hand along the back of one of the stable’s horses, feeling the living warmth of his skin.
“Good morning, big guy,” I murmur, resting my forehead against his neck for a second. The horse snorts, filling me with the calm I’ve been needing.
Beside him, Byron pricks up his ears the moment he hears my boots. This stallion has the temper of a thousand devils; he’s proud, and few hands dare step into his stall, but with me, the guy’s as gentle as a lamb.
“Here we go, here we go…” I whisper with a half smile, letting him sniff my fingers. “You’re nothing but a spoiled brat.”
I stroke his muzzle, enjoying the way he relaxes his neck. It’s the only moment of peace in my morning. Or at least it tries to be, because as soon as I bend down to drag one of the compressed hay bales into the aisle, the floor seems to give way beneath my feet.
I feel an unexpected, searing pain in my left side that cuts straight through me.
“Ah!” I groan through clenched teeth.
The bale slips from my hands and falls to the floor. I immediately bring my hand to my ribs, right where the skin has been reduced to a patch of rough, raised ridges. The scar from the fire. It’s always there, but today it burns as if the flames were still alive beneath my skin.
I try to straighten up, leaning against the wooden partition, but the ceiling beams start spinning. The walls close in. And suddenly, I’m no longer in the barn at Birdsong Hills. I’m back there again. On that damn night when everything went to hell.
I hear the terrifying creak of the beams giving way, the deafening roar of the flames… The suffocating realization that I’m trapped. That there’s no way out.
“No… get me out of here…” I whisper, taking a step back, my legs like jelly.
The barn turns into an imaginary tomb of ash. I can’t breathe. Oxygen isn’t reaching my brain.
“No, no, no… Elijah!” I scream into the void, clutching my head as I close my eyes.
And then, like a slap from reality, Camila’s voice echoes in my mind: “The northern hills of Birdsong Hills are an electromagnetic magnet because of the composition of the subsoil. And we’re repeating the exact same pattern as that night.”
It’s going to happen again.
Acting on pure instinct, I grab Byron’s saddle and throw it onto his back at ridiculous speed. My fingers are shaking so badly I can barely thread the strap through the girth buckle. The horse whinnies, caught up in the tension, flicking his ears from side to side.
“Hold still, damn it, hold still!” I growl, leaping onto his back. “Come on, Byron! Get me out of here!”
We shoot out of the stable like the devil himself is chasing us.
The wind lashes my face violently, but it doesn’t clear my lungs.
We race at a suicidal speed down the southern trail.
The landscape of eucalyptus trees and red earth blurs on either side of us, but the smoke from my memories still clings to my eyes.
“Damn…” I gasp, leaning my whole weight against the horse’s neck and clutching the reins.
My chest feels like it’s about to burst. We’ve been on this wild ride for a couple of miles when I hear the screech of an engine in the distance. Byron plants his hooves in the ground, skidding and whinnying loudly.
It’s Camila’s Toyota. She leaps out of the driver’s seat like a whirlwind, leaving the door wide open. Her face is pale, and her eyes are fixed on the mess I’ve become.
“Darana! Get off that horse right now!” she orders, running toward me.
I try to dismount with dignity, but my legs give out the moment I pull my feet from the stirrups.
I slide toward the ground like a sack of potatoes, losing my balance and about to crack my skull open.
But the impact never comes. Because a pair of firm, damn determined arms catch me in midair, cushioning my fall against her own body.
“Hey, hey… I’ve got you. Look at me, Darana. Breathe.”
Camila. It had to be you who saw me like this.
Her hands grip my arms with a strength I didn’t know she had, forcing me to support my own weight as I feel the firmness of her hold through my shirt.
“I can’t…” I manage to gasp, hating myself with every fiber of my being for falling apart right in front of her. “The air…”
“Yes, you can, damn it. Look at me,” she insists, without loosening her grip even a fraction. Her fingers dig into my biceps, forcing me to fix my gaze on her eyes. “Forget everything else. Breathe with me. Slowly. Come on: one… two… three…”
I try, locking my gaze with hers, and finally feel a trickle of air enter my lungs.
“That’s it, very good,” Camila murmurs, relaxing the tension in her own shoulders a little. “Again. Breathe in… breathe out. That’s it.”
I breathe in time with her count, feeling the world stop spinning so violently.
“I’m here,” she repeats, assessing me with her gaze as if I were one of her weather reports. “Do you want me to call someone? What do you need?”
I can’t speak. I’m just shaking from head to toe like a eucalyptus leaf. Camila looks at me and, acting without thinking, wraps her arms around me and pulls me close against her chest.
I freeze for a second. My pride tells me to push her away, but my body has a mind of its own. I lean against her desperately for a moment, hiding my face and forcing myself to match my heartbeat to hers—which beats steadily and calmly.
“It’s over,” she says, patting me firmly on the back. “You’re back in the present now. Breathe.”
“No, Camila…” I manage to say. “The data… I feel like history is going to repeat itself, and this time I won’t be able to save anyone.”
She pulls away immediately, gripping my shoulders so she can look me in the face.
“Listen to me carefully, Calloway. I won’t let this place fall. My job here is precisely to prevent that. I’m going to do everything I can to stop it. It’s not a guess—it’s physics. So get that idea out of your head. I’ll take care of what’s happening underground. Do you hear me?”
“Yes…” I reply, swallowing hard.
Camila nods once, giving me one last pat on the shoulder before letting go completely and taking a step back.
“Camila!” Kira’s voice suddenly booms from the walkie-talkie clipped to her belt. “The drones are ready to collect the data!”
Camila reaches for the device instantly, pressing the button without taking her eyes off me.
“I’m on my way, Kira. Have the charts ready,” Camila replies immediately. Then she looks at me, adjusting her shirt cuffs. “I have to go. Stay here, walk slowly, and cool off. We’ll talk about the technical deployment when the time comes.”
I nod, unable to add anything else as I watch her leap into the Toyota, start the engine, and speed off in a thick cloud of dust toward the cabin area.
I’m left alone in the middle of the road, my body buzzing with adrenaline but my mind clear.
· · ·
Half an hour later, dragging my boots and leading Byron by the reins, I reach the spot where the geranium plantation used to be.
The scent of what remains of the vegetation reaches me, but it isn’t the fresh smell I’m used to.
I kneel in the middle of the wreckage, sinking my knees into the mud without caring about anything else.
I run my fingers through the damp earth, feeling the helplessness etched into the palms of my hands.
“I’m sorry…” I whisper, my eyes brimming with tears I can no longer hold back. “I let you down, Elijah. I let you down, and I feel like I’m letting you down again. And I don’t know how I’m going to save this place.”
My voice cracks. I clench my fists against the clay-like soil, staining my hands and letting the pain wash over me. Because the storm is coming—Camila’s scientific warnings don’t lie—and this time, I don’t know if I’ll have the strength to get back up if Birdsong Hills falls again.