Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I climb off the bed, but I feel weightless, like I’m floating. However, I feel the wet soil too, on my bare feet.
“Can you all hear me?” I ask, and Maeve nods.
Juniper’s chin is practically on the ground, as well as Rowan’s, and Killian holds steady, but I can tell he wants to react too.
“How do I find him?” I step closer to Maeve. She tries touching me, but her hand goes right through me. As if I’m a ghost—a passenger in this world.
“Your time is running out. Caspian must already be pulling away, and if he does that...” Maeve works hard to swallow, fighting tears. “Have Silvera find Cerberus. If you’re Tethered to Caspian, then she shares a link with Cerberus.” I drop my eyes to Silvera, who waits eagerly at my side.
“I’ll find him,” I tell Maeve, then I look at the rest of them, pressing a hand to the center of my chest. “I can feel him. He’s in pain.”
“Please hurry,” Juniper pleads.
I nod, then turn to Silvera. She licks my hand as I try to pet her, and when I mentally give her the command to find Cerberus, she whips her head to the right, sniffs the air, then dashes away.
I follow her, looking back once at Caz’s family before pointing my gaze ahead. I may not be here physically, but if they can see me, he can see me, and that should be enough. At least for now.
Sixty-Three
CAZ
The weight of the gun feels too heavy in my hand. I can hardly lift it. Ever since leaving Moren’s, a weakness has plagued me that’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt before.
When I try bringing the gun to my head, it rolls out of my hand, clattering to the ground. I breathe in, exhale, and Cerberus whines at my feet.
My eyes move around the cabin, focused on the bare wooden walls, the green vines threading across them. The vines have taken over the place, and I swore to myself I’d take care of it, but it won’t be long before the vines consume it entirely.
My eyes shift to the kitchen, where my mother used to cook. She’d hum her songs and knead the dough to bake fresh bread. Then she’d pull it out of the oven, slice several pieces for me, and bring it out to the garden, where I studied.
Her bread was good—sweet, but not too sweet. She’d sit with me, eat bread smothered with blackberry jam, then when I was done with my studies, she’d take me through the garden to pick out vegetables for dinner.
The memory slashes through me, and I close my eyes as the throbbing in my chest worsens. This pain isn’t dull anymore. It’s as sharp as the point of a knife, digging deeper and deeper into my flesh, ready to cut me in half. And the cold—the cold is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s in my bones, slithering through my bloodstream like ice. No matter how many coats or quilts I wear, I can’t get warm.
I lift an arm, focusing on the black veins running down them. They slither to my hands now, dark and bold.
I lean forward, reaching for the gold tonic. My fingers tremble as I bring the cup to my lips and sip. It eases the pain, only temporarily.
Drunk and weak. That’s what I am. Weak and pathetic, just like my father told me I’d be—just like all of them said I would be. It’s impossible to deny fate, isn’t it? Such simple words can haunt you until the day you die, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Even in death, I’ll be remembered as such.
I lie on my side, reaching for a black tablet on the table and bringing it to my mouth, gulping it down. If I die, I’d rather be alert. Dying in my sleep is too easy. I’d prefer to feel the pain. The black tablet keeps me awake, aware.
I close my eyes, hoping this is it. I plead to no one in particular, begging to be taken out of this world…out of this land.
Don’t let the people I love find me. Don’t let them see me like this.
Another chill shoots through me and I shiver. Cerberus growls and barks at the door as it swings open and slams into the wall. Through my periphery, I notice something black standing between the frames. A gust of wind swirls through the cabin, charging the atmosphere, and I turn my head just enough to see it. Its eyes are crimson red, its hands at its sides. The talons of it are revealed, sharp and twitching, as if aching for a touch.
Mournwrath.
The cabin becomes colder, and I shiver more. It’s come for me. It’s come to rob me of this torturous Tether. I close my eyes, listening as it approaches. Closer. Closer.