Page 7 of Hollowed

“Thefull moon, and the night ofSamhain.Infive days’ time.”

Sucha short time.Therewas nothing elseIcould say, nothing elseIcould do.Therewas no escaping being namedRoghnaithe, not without sentencing someone else to death in my place.AndthoughIwas certainHenrywould offer,Icould not bear knowing he had died in my stead.

Movingout of the manor now was meaningless.Iwould be dead in five days’ time.Andwhen it came to my mother, no one would stop her from getting what she wanted.

Myappetite now gone,Ipushed my breakfast plate away, the ceramic skidding across the wooden table in a pitiful imitation of my heartbeat. “Ishould go to the shop.I’mlate, andHenryis likely waiting for me.”

Myfather merely nodded, turning his attention back to his own breakfast and letting me leave the room without another word of apology or comfort.Ididn’t know whyIeven expected any.

Four

Mymind was churning asIescaped from the manor, thoughImostly felt numb.Anormal person would be raging, screaming at the sky, and doing anything possible to plead with my parents to change their minds.ButIknew none of that would work.

Ikept every ounce of emotion bottled up, pushed down, and locked away until the front door of the mansion closed behind me, the dulled booming echoing in my ears.

Steppingout from beneath the porch’s covering,Itook a deep breath and embraced the icy rain that spilled from the low-hanging gray clouds.Ithad let up some but was still readily coming down, beating against my skin, and soaking into my hair and dress.Tiltingmy head back,Ireleased a heavy breath from my lips, puffing into a white cloud in the cold of the morning.Itwas not quite time for frost to form, icing over the grass, but it would not be long now.

ToobadIwouldn’t live to see it.

Istraightened my head and flexed my jaw as the raindrops clung to my eyelashes.Thepath in front of me was muddy, but unlike my mother,Ididn’t care if my dress became dirty.Istepped down from the porch, my boots squelching in the mud.Eachstep away from the mansion left me feeling physically lighter as the weight crushing against my lungs eased slightly.

Likely,Ishould have still felt fear from what had followed me down the path the night before, but the anger and despair that filled my veins overpowered it.Iwas going to die, regardless.Whatdifference did it make now if that death was from theDullahanor a mysterious forest spirit?

Stoppingat the bend in the path that would take me to town,Iturned around to look back.Themanor was a prison to me.Itwas a symbol of wealth and status to those who called on my mother and fawned over the opulent furnishings and carefully arranged décor, but allIcould see was pain and anguish.Itwas in the very foundations of the structure.

Scoffing,Iturned back to the path and put the manor behind me.Questionsswirled in my mind asIwalked, passing the trees—their leaves heavy with rain—asImade toward town.Ikept my eyes on the path but felt no eyes on me and noticed no fog around the bases of the trees this morning.

Itwas a blessing and a curse.Withoutfear driving my steps, my mind wandered.Unbidden, my thoughts returned to my parents, to their decision, and to my childhood.

Whilethey had never been what one would call loving parents, they prized the appearance of the perfect family more than anything.

Mydefective ear was hidden from everyone, andIhad been forced to adapt to reading lips as soon as my parents realizedIcould not hear well.Althougha language that would allow me to use my hands to communicate existed, my mother forbid me from learning it, saying it would have brought too much unnecessary attention upon me, and thus, upon her.Thehearing loss was only in my right ear, and its ache often made me question if there was more to it than just a simple hearing loss.Mymother would never take me to a physician to investigate it further, soIconceded to the pain.

Wenever spoke of my magic publicly, though those who knew me knewIhad little control over the flames that lived in my heart.Theonly timeI’dheard my mother speak of it, she’d told those asking thatIwas merely being stubborn, refusing to exercise my magic at that moment.

Anythingto keep from telling the truth.Thattheir only child was a failure.Adisappointment.

Tearsburned in my throat, blurring my vision.

“‘Youare nothing,Katrina,’”Imuttered, exaggerating my lips asImimicked my mother’s voice.

Fireburst from my hands, the raindrops sizzling into steam as they met and dispersed into the dismal morning sky.Thistime,Ididn’t try to smother the flames.Instead,Istopped to gaze down at my hands and watch the flames flicker, licking up my wrists and dancing out from my fingertips.Theflames would not last long… they never did.Buteven as they faded into steam, they pushed a warmth into my soul, blanketing it like a heavy quilt, soft but not smothering.

Theflames, unable to survive any longer outside of my chest, extinguished and my cooling hands fell back to my sides asIrefocused on the path in front of me.Itook a deep breath, leveling my gaze at the mud ahead of me. “Iam not nothing,Mother.”

Thetears that’d been building overflowed, warming my skin briefly before the cool of the morning clung to their wet tracks.Continuingmy trek,Ikicked my foot out to disperse the thick layer of mist gathered above the ground, wiping at the angry tears that spilled down my cheeks.

Thismist was not like the fog from last night; this was natural, expected for such a fall morning.Itdid not creep like fingers, but instead spread like a thin layer over everything the sun touched.Therain clung to me like a smothering blanket, pressing against every inch of my body and soaking through my thick dress.Itfelt both oppressive and comforting.

Turningonto the final path that led into town, the trees gave way to buildings, rows of shops, and large looming homes.Theirpointed rooflines reached into the morning sky, kissing the mist.Passingthe small school that had taken over an older manor home,Imade my way to the center of town.

Thelanterns that hung around the corners of the town square still glowed, not having yet been extinguished in the early morning air.Alarge oak tree sat in the center of the square, its branches naked and gnarled, twisting up into the sky.AsIpassed it, the wood groaned with the morning wind.Ispared it a glance, looking up at the noise.Alarge crow sat alone in its branches, staring at me with its eyes unblinking.Istopped short, turning fully to look at it.

Wasit the same one from last night?Crowswere common here, but they usually traveled in pairs.Tosee a lone one twice in a row made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as fear clamped around my throat once more.

Icocked my head, studying the bird.Itmimicked the movement, tilting its own head as its onyx eyes continued to hold my gaze.Itstared at me as it opened its beak, cawing loudly and shattering the peace of the morning.Iflinched, the noise startling me as it stabbed painfully into my ear, leaving behind a faint ringingIknew would echo for hours.

AsIreached up to rub at the ache, an eerie feeling washed over me, like someone had stepped up behind me and was breathing on my neck.Goosebumpsskittered down my spine and fear clung to the hair on my neck and arms.Clenchingmy fists,Iwhirled around, but there was no one there.Again.

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