Page 138 of Of Flames and Fallacies

“Hey…stop! Kitten! Open your eyes!” His voice sounds miles away. “Fuck…Katerina!”

The last thing I remember is the warmth of him against me.

Fire races across the floor. Or am I looking up at the ceiling? There’s no wooden beams here to criss-cross above me, but the sound of wood still creaks and groans…or is that noise coming from me?

I turn to my side. The room swims and spins as my stomach drops.

Flames dance in a fireplace across the room, scattering shadows across the marbled floor. I cringe—the fire melds and transforms into the grimaces of all the people I failed to save. They stare back at me, haunting me. Holding a hand up to block my face, I turn away with a cry. An ominous whisper grows louder, ringing over and over in my ears:

Secrets never die, they’re just buried in a grave.

Secrets never die, they’re just buried in a grave.

Secrets never die, they’re just buried in a grave.

“Shhhh,” someone hushes across the room. A dark silhouette slinks out from the darkness, a trail of shadows in its wake.

Darian steps into the light, surveying me with arched eyebrows. He follows my fixed stare to the hearth, strides over to it, and extinguishes the fire. My eyes are still glued to the hearth, waiting for it to reignite and consume me.

Darian slowly sits on the bed next to me, his midnight coat from earlier is gone, leaving him in a loose shirt. With reluctance, he strokes my hair to calm me. The movement so gentle. His lingering gaze is tender and delicate. I’m not sure what is real and what isn’t.

Then there’s three of him. Their eyes fading back and forth between an otherworldly white and forest green as horns sproutfrom their heads. They all shush me as I slip back into the darkness.

Screams ricochet around me as I clench my hands tight to my ears. I’m screaming back, but they don’t stop. The oranges, yellows, and whites of a wicked flame merge into a blur of red. Molten drops of crimson fire morph into something more sinister.

Blood.

My mother appears in front of me, but her eyes are blank—a whiteness clouding her irises and pupils. She reaches out a hand toward me, and I run away, but everywhere I turn, she’s there. Blood drips from the corners of her eyes, racing down her cheeks until she melts into a puddle of blood and bone. Spinning away from her, I find the little girl, her hand still clenching her doll. The next direction I turn to, my brother calls from the depths of a river, his blank eyes ghostly white near the water’s surface.

Stop it!I beg.

My mother’s words echo, clear as if they were a bell. High-pitched, frequent, ringing and ringing.

In death blood is shed, but from blood there is life.

In death blood is shed, but from blood there is life.

In death blood is shed, but from blood there is life.

The rebel I killed all those nights ago appears, a gaping wound in his chest where I pierced him with his own sword. He lunges for me, and I barely dodge him.

Leave me alone!I scream.

I search for Daeja, panic-stricken. I don’t know where she is. The rebel chases after me, grabs hold of my forearm, and tearsme to the ground. I crawl away from him, but he seizes me by the ankle and drags me back to him as I scream.

An arm wraps around me, tight, and I squirm against it.

Don’t take me, please don’t take me.

But then I’m rocked, back and forth. A soft hum brushes my ear, a whispered breath against my neck. The hums drive the screams away, and everything evaporates. Like snow melting from the sun.

“You’re okay. I’m right here, and I’m not leaving.”

The pain equivalent to an ice pick slamming in my head, repeatedly, greets me when I wake in the morning. My whole body is wrung from its strength, even opening my eyes is a strain. Golden light washes into the room, shining directly into my face and blinding me.

Where…am I?

I sit up quickly. A little too quickly. The room spins around me and triggers a wave of nausea. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my forehead against them until the dizziness subsides. Glancing up when I feel safe enough to do so, I find luxurious blue sheets and duvets wrap me in layers. The footboard of the bed is wrought iron twisting up high into brilliant curved pillars.

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