Page 251 of Midnights
I try again, but it feels like my limbs are weighed down with lead. The more I try, the more the room spins, and it’s nauseating.
Voices filter through again, and I catch bits and pieces on the edges of my awareness. “... she has it… training… if the veil drops… No?” The words slip by, impossible to grasp.
Another wave of dizziness slams into me, but this time, I hear a female voice. “The King… how much time… lying… I hope so.”
The mention of a king sends a cold ripple of unease down my spine, and for a second, I want to scream. The only problem is, I’m too weak, and too lost in this swirling fog to grasp anything for long. My voice won’t even work to scream, at least I don’t think so. I try, but I can’t hear anything.
All I can hear is rain against the window, and the thunder rumbling in the distance. Usually it's the kind of thing that would knock me right out. Tonight, it just feels like background noise to the mess in my head.
“Look outside,” someone says. Their tone is cold and condescending. Then I hear, “Conscious enough…”
My limbs feel disconnected, like they belong to someone else entirely. I want to scream at them, demand answers, or do something, but all I can do is float here.
The voices fade into the background again, leaving me stranded. My grandfather’s voice pushes me forward and my grandmother’s stories echo in my ears.
And behind it all, I can hear the storm, wild and furious.
Everything spins together in a violent whirlwind I can’t escape.
I open my eyes and the steam from the bath curls around me. My grandmother stands in the doorway with that familiar smile that always makes me feel safe. “Come on, Bird,” she says, her voice rich with affection. “Ye can’t sit in the bath forever. I’ve got one of your favorite stories planned for tonight. Come on then, here’s ye a towel.”
I reach for it, and the corners of my mouth lift into a small, content smile.
Wrapping the towel around myself, I step out of the bath onto the cold tile, and it's a sharp contrast to the warm water I was just in. She motions for me to follow her into the bedroom, patting the space next to her as she sits down on the bed.
Once I settle in, she tucks the blanket around me with the care only she could give. I lean into her, breathing in the comforting scent of lavender and fresh linen.
“Tonight, my love, is all about the Lightning Queen,” she begins. Her soft voice weaves the story into the quiet room. “A woman born under twins. She’s wild and has a spirit that could bend magic itself.”
Her voice lowers slightly, drawing me closer. “She’ll rise on the night of her birth, under the season that greets the rising moon.”
I’m captivated. My small hands clutch the blanket as I hang on her every word. “With the power to walk between worlds, she restores the balance where there is none. When the planets and the fates and all the stars align, blood will spill, promises will bind, and souls will collide.”
A shiver rolls down my spine, because apparently my nervous system likes to keep things dramatic. She pauses, and her eyes go distant, and suddenly I'm left trying to decode an expression that refuses to give me anything.
“But,” she says, her voice softening. “She’s the key…”
Her eyes sharpen suddenly, locking onto mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
“She must die. Only then can she break the curse.”
Her lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile.
Suddenly, a shadow flickers at the edge of my vision, and it looks like a figure lingering just beyond the doorway. My grandmother’s smile falters for a heartbeat, and her gaze shifts behind me. It’s subtle, but the spark of warmth in her eyes dims, replaced by something cold.
I try to turn, to look, but my grandmother’s grip tightens on my hand—her touch suddenly colder than it should be. “Don’t,” she whispers. Her eyes flicker with something that looks like …fear. “Not yet. You’re not ready.”
The shadow moves into the room, and its presence is heavy. My heart pounds, and I feel a strange pull.
“Raven…” The voice is soft, carrying a faint echo, like whispers overlapping. I try again to look, but her grip is tight. “You don’t belong here… not yet…”
I look at my grandmother, but something about her has changed. Her expression has gone cold, and her grip tightens painfully around my arm. When her eyes meet mine again, there’s a flash or something.
Her lips curl into a smile that doesn’t belong to her. “About time you came out to play.” Her voice is different, I've never heard her talk like this before. “This should be fun.”
A searing heat spreads from her touch, burning into my skin like a brand. Panic claws at my throat as I try to pull away, but her hold is unbreakable.
Suddenly, she blinks, and her eyes widen in shock. Her mouth twists into a snarl. “WINDOWS. NOW!”
