Page 186 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
I turn and swallow the thickness forming in my throat at the sight in front of me.
The house is no different.
The only exception is the colors of the flora surrounding it in the perfectly maintained yard. With Locane’s wards broken, we were able to jump right in front of it.
It’s odd that a place that saw such atrocities bears no scars. But the scars still exist. They exist within me forever. They exist within Alec, caught in the crossfire of having to reconcile the trauma that befell his mate at the hands of his twin and where he stood in between. The scars even exist within Locane, who committed the acts he did out of his own dark desperation, born from a sickness he had no control over.
Walking around the property, I see all the places that brought me comfort while I was here. Areas that I knew and loved all the years leading up to my kidnapping.
Alec follows silently behind me as I walk up the porch stairs, my steps echoing through the silent trees around the house. I reach the door, turn the handle, and push it open slowly, the well oiled hinges making no noise to announce my entrance.
My eye catches on the stunning transom window made by Leisah that caught my attention that first day, the autumn sun beating off the colored glass and throwing facets of rainbows on the walls. I exhale shakily, sifting through the bits of truth among the lies that Locane fed me and continue into the foyer.
The house is silent and stale. The atmosphere carries the heaviness that comes to a room when the Lady of Death comes to claim one in her arms. I turn to the right, into the formal living room, at the chaise lounge, and my throat tightens. I expect my vision to warp, as it has so many times in the last months, but it doesn’t. It’s now that I notice that those effects of Locane’s hold have finally worn off.
I squeeze Alec’s hand and continue to the kitchen, skipping going up the stairs.
Turning the key of the flicker light to see the room fully, I find the island has been replaced and the wreckage of mine and Locane’s fight cleared. The room is pristine, just as it had been when I made the decision to run and fight for my freedom.
Walking to the breakfast bar, the roll door is open to show the living room, and I take stock of it from afar. Alec’s gaze is a comforting caress on me while I continue to take everything in, internally reliving everything that happened here. I don’t block my emotions from our bond; but I don’t share the images of what I’m experiencing either.
I swallow my fear and doubt that attempt to bubble to the surface with the memories. My mind wanders to what may have happened if Locane’s plans had been successful, if he had been able to bend me to his will. But I shake those thoughts as well, reminding myself that I escaped from this place, and the person who held me here.
I lean against the bar unmoving for several minutes in the pressing silence before I finally push away and walk back to the front door. When we make it to the porch, Alec closes the door quietly behind him as I walk down the steps. I stop in the yard, in the same place we appeared.
Standing with my arms crossed, my eyes dart back and forth to take it all in, and I fight the sting behind them. Alec comes to stand behind me, his calm and comforting presence enveloping me in an embrace as warm and safe as his arms. I swallow hard again, attempting to dispel the thickness in my throat.
“Would you like to destroy it?” he asks.
It’s eerily silent in the absence of the chirping birds who have moved on for the season. I continue to take in the house, biting my lip as I consider. Finally, I turn to my mate and shake my head, giving him a soft smile.
“It’s just a house. It holds no weight.”
We leave the house immediately after my denial to destroy it, going straight to the Vahnsing apartment in Crane Hills. When we arrive, we don’t move for a moment, holding each other. I pull away, giving Alec a reassuring smile as I send waves of buttery warmth down our bond.
Walking to a set of navy blue doors, I throw them open to the balcony that runs the length of the apartment six stories above Main Street in Crane Hills. I breathe in, watching the cascading waterfalls thundering between stone carved buildings across the street.
As beautiful as The Capital is, Crane Hills is a city straight from a faerie story.
People mill about on the street below, and I smile to myself, feeling lighter despite the daunting task ahead. Alec has asked me multiple times if I’m sure that I want to continue on in the search for the gems. I had to threaten to start rejecting him again if he kept asking me. He laughed and pointed out it was an empty threat now; but he stopped asking regardless.
We talked about what our next step would be if this candle maker we are here to see turns out to be a dead end. We decided on continuing to Bokhaii, to see Nana settled into her life, before going to the Gleisheon Territory, where the willowbane tree sits. We will continue to practice with our new powers and see if our Sight has grown in strength the same as our currents. Our mindmagic from Alec has also not shown any signs that it’s amplified, as of yet.
“Would you like to wait until tomorrow or go now?” Alec asks from beside me. “It is still early in the day.”
Excited anticipation stirs within me. “Let’s go now,” I tell him, and he grins wide.
We walk through the cozy apartment with slate gray stone flooring and walls, draped in dark colored tapestries and carpets of rich greens, reds, and blues. The color scheme and decorative aesthetic is that of traditional Brhadirian style, starkly different from the bright colors at the palace of Quinndohs. Equally luxurious.
We exit the apartment into a private hall that leads to an outdoor terrace. A waterfall cascades through a hole in the rock terrace floor, splashing merrily where it falls several floors below. We take a winding staircase all the way down to the second level terrace. The waterfall is beating into a deep well of a fountain, only a light mist escaping the stone lip. Alec tucks my hand in the crook of his arm as he leads us to a stone staircase descending to the street below.
The streets of Crane Hills are far less busy than those of the more populous Capital. The women are dressed more conservatively than the flowy, nearly sheer styles of Quinndohs. People on the streets recognize us—giving us respectful bows and cheery smiles before moving along.
We cross a dark stone bridge over a narrow stream into the artist’s block of Main Street, and the building we seek looms ahead of us. Alec and I glance at each other quickly, our faces mirroring the other’s anticipation.
“First floor?” I ask him.
“Yes, all the way at the back.”
