Page 49 of The World Undone

She shrugged. “This is unprecedented. I’ve had a long life, seen many things, but even I don’t have the answers you seek, don’t know the powers and limitations of this girl you’ve been tied to. Let the power guide you—linger in it, feel it, taste it, understand it. And once you have, you’ll know what to do with it,” she paused for a moment, before adding, “at least I hope so. For all of our sakes.”

Fucking great.

We didn’t just have the weight of the world on our soldiers, but some mysterious magic infecting our bond group. Could we not catch one single fucking break?

We sat in silence for a few moments, and I used the time to try and sense whatever darkness she’d picked up on, focusing as she’d taught me, but reading my own energy was more difficult than sensing that of others.

“Could it be from my brother?” I met her eyes. “Atlas was attacked by a drude, he’s been off since Max rescued him.” I winced. Off didn’t really begin to cover it. I’d hardly spent any time with him since his return, but when I did, I found myself making excuses to leave. We’d both changed so much in the last few months, the gulf between us felt monumental. And closing it seemed like such a trivial thing to focus on in light of everything. “He’s in pain—” I searched for a way to describe it, but came up wanting, “like…metaphysically, if that makes sense?”

“It does.” Her jaw line was sharp as she nodded. “I don’t think that’s what I’m sensing in you, but I suppose that could be it. I have very little personal experience with Nightmares, and have never met someone who’s survived an encounter with one untouched.”

I shifted in my seat and pulled at a loose thread hanging from the bottom of my shirt.

The possibility that Atlas might be forever marred by the drude made me sick to my stomach, even in this dream world where such feelings should be left with my physical body.

“It was our father.” I hated the taste of that word on my tongue. “He’s the reason Atlas is suffering. The son of a bitch fucking fed him to the drude.”

Serae took a deep breath, her lips stiff as she watched me. “I’ve always known that Tarren was a bad man. But it’s hard to imagine that anyone would willingly put their children through what yours has put you boys through.” Her chin lifted slightly, posture lengthening. “For what it’s worth, and believe me I realize it can’t be worth much to you, not now, not when you have so much else to worry about—but your mother would have never left you with him, if she’d had any say in the matter. We didn’t agree on many things, but I know it would have killed her to see the pain he’s caused you boys.”

“He’s dead now.” The words held little meaning to me as I spoke them. I searched through myself, expecting to find sadness, or at least regret that things ended the way they did between us. But all I felt was anger—and gratitude to Atlas for doing the thing I’d spent nights plotting in my head.

She said nothing to that, just continued studying me with that laser-like focus of hers. I knew she could see, and feel, the parts of the conversation I didn’t feel like sharing or feeling. Serae specialized in reading people—had honed her powers to identify and isolate information and emotions in her subjects.

I shifted again, uncomfortable under her gaze.

“I didn’t etch that for you,” she finally said. Her eyes caught on my arm, where my bond mark curled beneath my shirt, and her face softened in awe. “No, that’s a true mark.”

She folded her hands in her lap, stiff like she was keeping herself from closing the distance between us to trace the lines.

I ran my hand over it, uncomfortable under her stare. “Yes.”

Her body sank back into the chair, some of the earlier tension dissolving. “You are happy. I can feel how happy she makes you.”

“She does. I am.” I didn’t bother trying to hide the love-sick grin on my face. “I feel a little guilty being as happy as I am, if I’m honest.”

I hadn’t intended that confession, but Serae had a way of pulling things out of me that even I didn’t understand or realize until they were there, spilled out in front of me.

She tilted her head, the question silent but poignant all the same.

“With Atlas the way he is, with the barrier between worlds unraveling—it seems a bit selfish to have found happiness now.”

She nodded, something unreadable in her eyes, “I understand where you’re coming from, but I’m going to urge you to resist it. It is not selfish to be alive, to allow yourself the space to enjoy the few precious things life has to offer. I hope that you can hold on to that. Happiness is a rare gift these days. One few are afforded. It would be almost callous to turn your back on it, to reject a thing so many would give their lives for.” Her eyes narrowed on me, seeing into the depths in that way only she seemed capable of. It was unsettling. “And you’ve been through a lot, Wade. It’s not only happiness you feel—I can see the lingering pain in you, the anxiety that wraps around you and tightens like a snake. Love, happiness—understanding that you’re worthy of both—just might be the keys to helping you become even stronger. We can’t help others if we’re drowning ourselves. Do you understand?”

I nodded, unable to find the words. Some unnamed emotion stuck in my throat, like a large iron golf ball. My eyes clouded over as I cleared my throat, fighting back whatever reaction was struggling to get out.

She came over to me and grabbed my hand in hers. Her skin was soft, warm, and sent a wave of comfort from the tips of my fingers to my spine. She pressed her free hand to my cheek, gentle but firm, until my eyes met hers.

“You have too much weight on your shoulders, my boy,” she said, her voice a soft whisper that still held more than enough strength for the two of us, “and you always have. I know you haven’t lived a happy life, that there have been many trials in your way. I wish more than anything that you had easier options, a different path behind and before you.” Her thumb grazed my jaw as her hand fell back to her side. “But for what it’s worth, I’m very proud to call you my nephew, my family. I only wish that I could have been there for you sooner.”

She cleared her throat and stepped back, blinking rapidly, like she’d caught herself off guard with the statement.

Warmth enveloped me, the vise that usually gripped at my chest suddenly more like a hug than a hindrance.

I’d never met my mother, and my father was an absolute ass hat. I wasn’t used to these conversations from family, this support, this advice—it was unfamiliar, uncomfortable, but it was also…nice.

As I watched her, she seemed more weary than usual. She was still regal and striking, but there was a guardedness that hadn’t been there before, her posture less confident, less sure. Barely-perceptible lines framed the corners of her eyes—fragile concern where there’d once been only a teasing delight, a softening.

“What’s happening in hell? With Lucifer?” I asked, feeling a desperate need to break the heavy silence between us, to make this encounter as productive as it could be. It wasn’t often we had a glimpse into the other realm without being pulled to it—and it would be a shame if I wasted the opportunity to learn more about what we were up against. Our sad family legacy could wait for another time. “Is there anything you can tell me about him, about his plans for Max? Anything I can be doing to protect her?”

---