Page 135 of Gift from the Nexus

My shadows wrap around the two of us like a thick, black duvet. Unlike how we usually become incorporeal when we travel through my shadows, right now, it’s the opposite. We become heavier, solid as stone until we plummet through the keyhole to my dimension.

When I created my pocket dimension, my trust issues were at their peak and no part of me was comfortable with a physical object being my dimension key. Like Gaster’s book is his. You couldn’t convince me that no one would be able to infiltrate that. I know better now. It’s much harder to gain access to someone else’s dimension, but I wouldn’t accept any other possibility then. So using the same lesson he gave Willow, Gaster and my uncle taught me how to make a pocket dimension out of the fabric of Elementra. And I taught myself how to manipulate my shadows to be the key.

No one controls my shadows but me.

Just as Willow must draw her circle in the air, my shadows must become their most impenetrable form in order for my dimension to open.

Her body wiggles uncomfortably against mine, and I know she’s on the verge of panicking. This dark, tight space is freakingher out, but it’s almost over and I give her a reassuring squeeze to convey that. As soon as we pass through my barrier, my shadows fall away, leaving the two of us in the bed inside of my personal space.

“Fuck.” Willow sits up coughing, trying to catch her breath. “I thought I was going to suffocate. What the hell was that, Caspian?”

She doesn’t give me the opportunity to answer before she takes in the sight in front of her. In seconds, her angry question is long forgotten and she’s on her knees in the middle of my bed, her eyes tracing over everything she can possibly get a look at. Her mesmerized gaze both relieves and intensifies my anxiety.

She likes what she sees.

“Where…what…Cas, are we in your pocket dimension?” she stutters, looking at me with wide, alert eyes.

“We are,” I say slowly, standing from the bed. “Take a look around, Primary.”

Her curiosity takes hold like a feverish need, and she’s off the bed and across the room to my bookshelf in a millisecond. Like a child in an all you can eat sweets shop, she plunders through my things, bouncing from one thing to the next as quickly as she can. It’s as if she’s afraid I’m going to swoop her away any minute now, so she must see absolutely everything all at once.

The room isn’t large, just big enough for me to be comfortable. I don’t come here when I’m in a foul mood as it soils the energy. This is my solace, and I only enter when I’m in the right frame of mind. I don’t even allow myself to ruin my space. I like to keep the atmosphere cool and dim, so I stay completely relaxed when here.

Coming here to tell this story is breaking that rule, but I also wouldn’t want to be anywhere else to tell her. Just here. Safe, comfortable, and alone.

The space itself is smaller than her bedroom we just left. Taking up one whole wall is a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that holds my most prized books, research, journals, and objects. My bed is about half the size as her Nexus one and it sits opposite the shelves. That’s why her eyes found it so fast. When I come here, the bed is where I work. There’s no desk, no couches, none of the fancy things. My bed, books, two nightside tables, and a lamp. That’s all it’s ever needed.

I lean against the wall with a smirk on my face, watching her in fascination as she satisfies her craving to know what I’ve been hiding here.

“What have you found, Primary?” I ask as one of my books has grabbed her undivided attention.

“I’m not sure, honestly. Is this a book on your gift?” she asks.

She turns toward me, and I instantly realize what it is she’s found before she even hands it over. Of all the pieces to pick, this is the one she chose.

“It is. I compiled all the research I could on my gift and then started adding my own experiences into it,” I say as I flip through the worn pages. It’s been a while since I’ve bothered writing in it, but I’m sure some things need updating.

Landing on a random page, I smile sadly to myself as I read over the sloppy notes I scribbled at some point in time. From the age of fifteen after being rescued and through my darkest years, I tended to write out my nastiest thoughts and feelings, like some tragic poet.

Oh, if past Caspian knew then what he knows now.

“The darkness swallows me whole every day. My fight has bled out because there’s no sense in battling the night. It will come, it will conquer. It feels like home now. I’ve had to acknowledge the light doesn’t need me nor will she come to me at my command, yet I still search. Although I know the truth to be—”

“She’s waiting to guide my way until such time I admit I need her.” Willow finishes for me and my eyes narrow in confusion.

Watching her closely, her chest rises and falls in rapid succession and she’s looking at me just as bewildered. No one should know those words. I wrote them and no other’s eyes have ever seen them.

“How did you know that, Primary?”

“I…I’m not sure. As soon as you started reading, it just came to me,” she stutters, shaking her head out.

Elementra.

“Here,” I say, handing it back to her. There’re no secrets in there I’d be ashamed for her to see. She knows the darkest side of me.

“How long have you been building your dimension? Collecting all these?” She turns back to the bookshelf and slides my book into its spot, caressing its spine thoughtfully.

“Seventeen, almost eighteen years.” I smirk as she spins on her heels and stares at me like that’s forever ago. It’s merely a blimp in our time. “Would you believe me if I told you, Primary, that growing up, I refused to pick up a book?”

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