Page 13 of Of Bone and Ash

“I can’t stay, Serafina. You’ll have to find a new fix. I can't put my life on hold just to keep you from killing people. What you need is a friend your age to hang out with. You’re a child, Serafina! We’ve been around each other for too long, and your obsession is not healthy. You need to talk to your therapist and deal with your problems,” Ryland snarls, and smoke billows from his flared nostrils.

I stumble back from my friend, the man I trust with every part of my soul, as he walks out the door, not looking back. The door slams shut, making the walls of the house tremble, and my knees give out. My body falls to the floor as darkness rushes in from all directions.

Cold sweat runs down my spine as dread pools in my stomach. I look up into the canopy of thick trees, the eerie fog circling my feet, crawling up my legs, keeping my feet planted to the dark earth below. An odd feeling of weightlessness pulls at my body, and the dark strands of hair that cascade over my slim shoulders slowly drift into the air.

What the hell is going on? I’m dreaming… I know I am. The dream of Ryland leaving me is a constant nightmare of mine. But this… this feels different.

The feeling of death hangs in the air—something that normally doesn't phase me, but this seems… different. The darkness I usually welcome is heavier, laden with the stench of rotten flesh, and I have to fight the instinct to gag at the terrible smell. Whatever that is is not coming from my magic, but something else.

Something or someone is watching me. I can feel its eyes on me as it slowly circles the trees, just out of view. Flexing my fingers, I let out some of my deadly black magic and grin as a rush of relief courses through me at the rare feeling of magical freedom. My magic circles through the air, dropping the ambient temperature before it stills, holding its position, waiting on my command.

The fog below flickers, thinning in areas as it slowly inches up my legs. I see that I’m standing in a circle, weird marks etched into the ground at my feet, and… what the hell?! Bright blonde hair is fanned out on the ground next to me, and I curse as my eyes move to the sunken face of a girl lying only a foot away. My nose wrinkles at the stench of decay, and fury builds in my chest as I stare at her haunting, unseeing green eyes.

The heavy darkness of the fog pushes at my magic barriers, and I feel my Reaper form inching closer and closer to the surface in defense.

“You really shouldn't play with things stronger than you,” I whisper to the thing watching me, tilting my head to the right when I hear the telling snap of a twig breaking underfoot. The fog at my feet thickens, and I bite my lip as whatever magic holds me brushes against the sliver of bare skin above my ankle boot. Pain rushes through every molecule of my being, and my back arches, but instead of a scream, a low, throaty laugh breaks from between my lips.

Magic races down my arms, and something stronger… something foreign—that I have slowly gotten used to living with shifts inside my mind, allowing me to break from my physical form. The pain my body is feeling no longer affects me as the world around me darkens, the already dark night turning sightless. I feel a smile grow on my face as I open my eyes. The details of the world have plunged into a void of black, though easily discernible to me as my limbs twitch like I’m being electrocuted.

“Fine,” I snarl, and I shiver at the sound of my deep voice.

Deep, deep down, there is a part of me that hates this side of me. I’m scared that one day she’ll take over and never let me back out. But then there are times like this when I know I could never survive whatever is currently attacking me without it, and I’m grateful to let the darkness take over.

“Let's play,” I snarl, dipping my head as my magic, which has been hovering in the air, plummets to the ground, attacking the fog with the brutality of a feral animal. My legs are free in seconds, and I’m striding forward, eyes scanning the forest as I raise my hands, palms up, and send my magic into the trees beyond. Howls and cries of the wildlife beyond sound around me, then silence, their lives ripping from their bodies in seconds, feeding the growing darkness as it searches for the monster it craves.

A deep laugh flows through the air, and I still when I realize it is no longer coming from me but something else.

“You shall be fun to play with, little Reaper,” the voice rasps, its words echoing softly like we’re trapped in a never-ending cave. “Welcome home, child.”

Light spills into my room, making me wince as reality slowly comes back to me. The annoying sound of my morning alarm rings through the air, and I grimace as I open my eyes and scowl at the ceiling above. Blinking a few times, I try to figure out what just happened. As the memories of my fucked-up dream slowly come back to me, I groan and rub a hand over my eyes.

“What the hell kind of dream was that?” I rasp as I sit up in bed, then groan for a different reason. My arms tremble, my back screams, and my legs feel like Jello as I turn to sit at the edge of my bed. Every inch of my body feels like it was sent through a damn woodchipper.

“Ow,” I whisper under my breath as I lean forward and swipe the screen of my phone plugged in on my bedside table. The loud alarm stops, and I breathe a sigh of relief as I slowly take note of all the different aches and pains in my body. “Shower, coffee, then pondering the weird dream,” I groan out loud as I stand on shaking legs and move to the small ensuite. My brain feels like a fog is lingering, making everything from last night feel like a dream itself.

“Maybe the jerky I ate for dinner went bad or something,” I tell myself as I strip down and turn on the shower, making sure it’s hot to help remove some of the chill deep inside me. I should have gone to the dining hall for dinner, I mentally add, hating myself for being too tired to do so.

Stepping under the hot shower spray, I release the small glamor spell I have on me at all times, only ever letting it down during my showers when I know no one will see. I eye the thin white lines on my arms, some hidden by the small floral tattoo that circles my upper arm, before glancing down at the thicker, rougher lines on my thighs and hips. None of them are straight, which drives me mad.

As a teen, I craved the pain. I needed it to feel alive and didn't care what I had to do to get the small thrill that cutting my flesh gave me. The burst of adrenaline gave me more than anything else, and I chased that high like an addict did their next fix. Thankfully, I already possessed enough magic at such a young age to hide my activities. And after a time and one really scary close call, I managed to keep my cutting to my fingers, and only when I’m desperate for control.

It's been almost a year since I had a dream of Ryland. I’ve been able to suppress the memories of him rather well over the last few months. But coming to the school where he used to work must have brought up the old memories. I overheard Gabe say Ry left Silverwood more than a year ago when the ruling Dragon heir of Romania asked for his assistance with one of his sons. Ry hadn't wanted to go, but apparently, turning down what is essentially the king of Dragons would be a poor political move, and Gabe told him to go. That information is the only reason I came here to help Atlas.

I sigh and close my eyes, trying to will away the vision of Ryland's cold, hard eyes as he glared down at me. I let the hot water course over my sore muscles before reaching out and grabbing my body wash. I quickly lather a good amount of cranberry and spice soap between my hands and clean my body, scrubbing every inch from my head down to my toes. As I lift one foot, I frown, my eyes zeroing in on the purple bruise that circles my ankle. Darting my gaze to my other leg, I find a matching bruise, the purple color dark and vivid against my skin.

Memories of the pain that radiated through my body moments before my magic took over plague me as I quickly wash my hair and rinse off, no longer taking my time as my mind spins. What the hell happened during my dream last night? And why do I think it wasn't actually a dream?

“Can’t get bruises from dreams,” I mutter to myself, lowering my foot back down to the ground and rinsing off quickly before turning off the shower and getting ready for the day. I have too much to do today to worry about weird dreams and bruises. I’ll have to talk to Atlas later and ask him what he thinks happened.

I throw my long hair into a tight, high ponytail on top of my head before applying my makeup, going extra heavy on the eyeliner as I study my appearance in the large mirror. Then look from my bright gray eyes to my too-small nose, where there are a smattering of freckles. I despise them and cover them up on a daily basis.

My lips are full, their color lingering on the darker side of maroon rather than red, making my pale cheeks look ashy if I don’t add blush or bronzer, which I don't mind doing. There is something about having my hair done and makeup flawless that helps me feel more confident—a shield I use to hide the monster inside.

After thirty minutes of prepping, I glance down and curse under my breath when I realize I’m going to be late meeting up with Adam. I set my morning alarm later than usual to rest after traveling over the last two days, but now I regret my decision.

Rushing out to my small bedroom, I walk to the armoire and pull out my favorite black Chanel dress. The fabric is soft and comfortable, while the lines of the dress give the appearance of extra length to my already tall body. It's a three-quarter sleeve with a low scoop neck, and one look out the window at the stormy sky has me reaching in for a pair of thick tights and a black cardigan for added warmth.

My phone beeps, and I glance at the screen, seeing an email from Atlas with my new class schedule. “Shit,” I growl under my breath when I look at the time and notice it's already nine, and I need to be at the dining hall. I check to ensure my glamor spell is in place, then rush from the room, grabbing my bag and toeing on the heels from yesterday before running out the door.

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