Page 90 of Visions of Darkness

“I don’t even know where to start. How to put it into words,” I whispered. How did you give voice to the inconceivable?

“Think the only thing we can do is just go for it,” he responded.

Pax leaned forward and typed in the one word that I’d never had the courage to even speak.

Faydor.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Pax

Disappointment sank like stones to the pit of my stomach.

It was a bunch of fucking gibberish.

Misspellings.

A couple of people with the name.

“Damn it,” I grumbled, and Aria peeked over at me before she reached out and typedLaven.

A bunch of names populated that time. Lots of last names bearing the same title.

My spirit twisted in a bid of hopelessness because, God, I was trying so hard, but I had the sinking sense that we might be grasping for something that wasn’t there.

Determined to find a solution in the middle of obscurity. We’d been sworn to never speak of our time while asleep, but still, we were humans during the day, and I wasn’t sure how, in all of time, those oaths had been kept.

Couldn’t believe that one person hadn’t dished, even though they’d likely have been labeled the same way as Aria had been.

Unstable.

Still, there had to be something.

An answer.

I had to find one.

Aria’s survival was riding on it.

Frustration heaved from her on a weighted exhalation before she deliberated, then leaned in again and let her delicate fingers move over the keys.

Tearsith.

We both were holding our breath as the screen switched, and our eyes quickly scanned the results.

More misspellings leading to other entries. Some board game. A couple of random people.

Not much.

Except there was one tiny image that populated at the bottom of the page. One that stopped both of us in our tracks. The oxygen hitched in our throats, and our hearts picked up a reckless rhythm of disbelief.

Aria glanced at me in a second of stunned wariness before she maneuvered the mouse and clicked on it.

“Oh my God.” A whispered gasp rushed from her, and the air was punching from my lungs.

It was a painting.

A painting of the place we knew. Our sanctuary. A meadow with a stream running through.

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