Page 1 of Enchantment of Silver and Sea
CHAPTER ONE
I woke gasping for air, my heart pounding, smothered in a sickly sweat.
Leaping out of bed, I landed on legs that felt unsteady, as if they weren’t a part of me anymore. I ran to the balcony door, flinging it open and dropping to a seated position, calling on my five senses to bring me back to the present.
I forced myself to see the city below me, the dark silhouettes of buildings against the muted purple of the morning sky. I breathed in the sweet smell of baking bread drifting from above me and knew Brielle was awake one story up. I tuned in to the mournful song of the doves, cooing from their perches on the edges of windowsills and gutters. My mouth, I forced myself to observe, was filled with the sour flavor that lingered each time I woke from a nightmare. And I felt the cool morning breeze ruffling my hair. The rough concrete beneath me. The uncomfortable cling of my sweat-drenched nightgown.
Slowly but surely, my galloping heart slowed. The vice grip on my lungs loosened, allowing them to expand.
At this point, I had calming my post-nightmare panic down to a science. And even just knowing this—that I had a plan each time, that I was in control—aided in bringing me back.
It hadn’t always been that way. Countless times, I had awoken in throat-constricting terror, certain I was dying. But after so many years, I suppose I had become as used to it as a person could get. Now I could even pinpoint what triggered the dream each time.
In this instance, it was the woman at the living quarters’ market the previous evening. That confident gleam in her emerald eyes as she made her friends roar with laughter. The way they looked at her like it was both a joy and an honor to be in her presence. The way she swaggered from aisle to aisle with her chocolate-brown ponytail swishing behind her, plucking items off the shelves and adding them to her basket, while they trailed behind, hanging on her every word.
She was just like Irene.
And I suppose in some respects, like me. Even though my green eyes also contained a hint of blue, and my figure was more petite than Irene’s, my dark hair and heart-shaped face had only grown to look more like her as I aged.
Now, here I was. Twenty. The same age she was when she died.
I continued inhaling deeply. In through the nose for ten seconds. Out through the mouth for ten seconds.
In. Out. In. Out.
Exhaling all thoughts of Irene.
I stood carefully, feeling the blood flow return to my legs as I shifted on my feet. I stretched my arms overhead and releasedanother cleansing breath. The sky was fading from that deep purple to a softer periwinkle. The rest of the living quarters would enjoy a few more hours of sleep before we were expected to report for work assignments. But knowing Brielle was up and about in her kitchen was a small comfort.
After one more moment to steady myself, I turned to go inside.
Then spun back around.
I scanned the city again, but this time with more intent.
What was this feeling? It had nothing to do with the nightmare or the panic that was still seeping out of my veins. It was more…an awareness. But of what?
Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I headed back into my apartment. But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
That skin-prickling feeling stayed with me as I tossed and turned for the next two hours, my pulse still hammering a staccato that ensured sleep would not find me. It stayed with me as I finally flung off the clammy sheets and readied for my work assignment. And it was still with me, making my scalp tingle, as I met Brielle outside my apartment to walk to the Knowledge Center.
“For you!” Brielle said with a flourish, presenting me with a neatly wrapped package as we walked down the carpeted hallway.
We strolled across the seventh floor, sidestepping copies of The Cyllene Sentinel that had been deposited outside our doors before sunup, until the hall of identical white doors became theopen atrium that was the most impressive feature of our living quarters. Massive windows spanned all ten floors, flooding the space with light. Beyond the glass, the city streets had already begun to fill with a steady stream of people.
Brielle’s honey-colored hair was tied back in her usual loose braid, her hazel eyes bright. My own hair was braided similarly, but I had always thought the style looked prettier on her.
I took the package, knowing without even opening it that it was a loaf of the banana bread I had smelled earlier. “You’re the best!”
It was true—there was no beating Brielle’s cooking and baking. This was due in large part to her training in the Culinary Preservation department, but it also didn’t hurt that her work assignment afforded her access to rare and exotic ingredients. I knew from my own work in the Library that there was a time when bananas could be found in every market. But thanks to The Awakening, they were now a luxury.
“I could smell this when I was out on the balcony earlier,” I said, taking another whiff.
“I thought I heard you out there.” Brielle took her own loaf out of her knapsack, tore off a piece, and popped it in her mouth. “You should have Maintenance do something about that creaky door. Anyway, I almost popped my head out to say hello.”
I wasn’t sure she meant that. But I played along. “You should have.”
“Maybe I will next time.”
