Page 168 of Heir of Illusion

Forty-Six

I’m nothing.

At least, I think that’s what I am. The rest of the world is tangible and solid, but I’m something else. Something bodiless. A phantom on the wind. Not even gravity deems me worthy of holding onto. Instead, I float through the ether disconnected from everything.

That’s not true,a voice whispers.You’re tethered.

I don’t know what that means, but I suppose it doesn’t matter. Strangely, there’s something familiar about being nothing.

That’s because you’ve done this before,the voice speaks again.Once a very long time ago and again just recently.

Having no way of knowing if that’s true, I take the voice’s word for it. MaybeI’vebeen here before, but I don’t think theothershave. They float around me, all of us being pulled in the same direction. But there are some who don’t float. Instead, the Dark Ones linger in the shadows, tracking our movements.

Don’t go near them,the voice says harshly.They aren’t like you anymore. They shouldn’t be here.

The others grow antsy as we approach the stone archway. We all sense its wrongness. One by one, they are pulled through the veil, disappearing to somewhere unknown. The giant, gaping mouth swallows them whole, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of their screams. Whatever lies on the other side, it isn’t peaceful.

The air between the pillars ripples in anticipation as it pulls me closer. I’ve almost reached it when, all of a sudden, I’m pulled to a halt. The others continue their procession, disappearing into the veil without interruption.

What’s happening to me?

You’re tethered,the voice repeats.

A moment later, something tugs me backward, away from the veil. The world flashes by me in a blur. Before, I was floating slowly, but now I’m racing through the air. Deep within the nothingness, I sense something growing. A connection of some sort. Whatever it is, I think it’s the reason I didn’t pass through.

Is this what happened to me when I floated before?

I wait, but the voice stays silent, offering no further explanations. I suppose I’ll find out soon enough.

Perhaps then, I won’t be nothing anymore.

When my eyesopen there’s only darkness.

I blink several times, and the world expands around me, taking the shape of an unfamiliar bedroom. At least, I think it’s unfamiliar. My mind is currently too disoriented to be sure. The bed I’m lying in is soft, yet my back aches. The skin there is sore and itchy. I twist my arm to scratch it, wincing as my nails brush against the tender flesh. Was I in some sort of accident?

It takes me several moments to realize the darkness I’d seen was just the black curtain of the canopy above me. My back protests as I sit up and stretch out my neck. The only source of light comes from the fireplace, it’s flames casting a warm glow on the maroon walls. I roll my eyes when I realize everything about the decor is dark and moody. Whoever lives here must be very dramatic.

As my thoughts begin to clear, a bone-deep panic sets in.

Where am I? Who brought me here? I glance down at myself, sighing with relief when I recognize the clothes I’m wearing as my own. At least no one changed me while I was unconscious.

My relief quickly fades when the sound of a door slamming and raised voices come from the other side of the wall.The room next-door,I realize.

“Are the two of you just going to sit there silently?” a male voice demands, his words immediately followed by the sound of an object crashing against the floor.

“What do you expect, Clyde?” another man responds. “They’ll back him no matter the cost. They always do.”

“Tell him to calm down!” the first one, Clyde, insists. “Tell him he can’t seek revenge.”

Deciding it’s time to move, I push myself off the bed as silently as possible, ignoring the tightness in my back. Moving toward the large dresser, I quietly search for some sort of weapon I can use against whoever’s out there. Frustration fills me as I pull open the drawers, finding nothing but folded men’s clothing.

“Hey!” Clyde shouts as another crash echoes through the room. “You need to figure out what our next move is now that he has thealm?—”

His words are cut off as something large slams against the shared wall, rattling the door that separates us.

“Stop talking,” a woman orders, her voice sounding familiar. “He doesn’t care about that right now.”

Realizing I’m out of time, I abandon my search and settle for a crystal vase sitting on a side table.

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