“It makes sense since the Noctryns are supposedly the ones responsible for setting up this little shindig,” I mutter, kicking the sand. “But I think it has to be hand-to-hand contact. I didn’t see anything when I touched your arms or back.”
“It felt so real. I felt its breath on the back of my neck,” he mutters, before closing his eyes. “Fuck.”
“We don’t necessarily know it wasn’t. Not yet.”
We can’t make the mistake of underestimating the things in here.
I start walking again, ready to be out of this mind fuck and back into a place that makes sense. I’m also so tired of the absence of noise. No crickets, birds, not even the rustle of air movement. Just our heavy breathing.
I can see why people lose their minds in the padded asylum rooms of Harkin House. Each cell is created to block out all sound and sight, created specifically to torture someone into madness. If they weren’t already to begin with. They say if you’re not already mad when you enter that place, you will be within days.
We come to a small courtyard with a beautiful fountain standing in the middle. A phoenix rises from the center, water rushing out of its beak into the basin below. We don’t stop to admire it. We just turn left and continue. We cross rows upon rows of thick hedges and pass random stone statues. Each more grand than the prior.
After what feels like hours, we come to another courtyard with another phoenix fountain. The water is beckoning us to drink,asking us if we’re thirsty. Tempting us. How long has it been since we’ve had anything? Without thinking, I shove both hands in, cupping the water.
I yelp and yank my hands back out.
Both are covered in hundreds of little cuts, blood seeping from the abrasions. The water continues to shimmer in an invitation to quench our thirst. The shimmers aren’t reflections, though—there’s no sun for the water to reflect off.
If I weren’t so bone-tired, I’d have noticed this before. I’m getting sloppy. The water is full of little shards of crystal. Sharp enough to tear flesh. The phoenix looks down on me, standing in the same stance as the previous one. The only difference is that I swear this one has a condescending look on its face.
“Uh, Nori… you may want to look at this,” Finnley calls from an archway.
I flick off the phoenix before walking over.
He’s hunched down looking at something in the sand, ashy curls falling over his scrunched brow.
I stop next to him, bending down to look at the dark sand. The arch’s entrance has two sets of footprints.
Ourfootprints.
We’ve been here before.
“Son of a bitch…. The walls must have moved.”
We’ve been walking in circles for hours. How many times have the walls moved and we haven’t noticed? Have we been seeing the same stone statues over and over again? All the hedge looks the same, every part identical. It’s impossible to tell how long we’ve been in here.
I open my mouth, then slam it shut. Bitching and complaining right now won’t get us anywhere.
Life’s not fair, Norissa. Caderyn women do not show weakness.
My mother’s words come at me full force. I stand up, working out our next move in my head. We can’t leave breadcrumbs or any kind of trail, per the professor. But he never said anything about going out of our way to prevent them from naturally occurring.
My nails dig into my palms.
Finnley stands to his full height, looking left and then right. He runs a hand down his stubbled jaw before turning his attention back to me.
I see the moment he decides.
“We wing it,” he states as if it’s the most obvious answer.
“Yeah, look how well that’s worked out for us so far,” I retort.
“Listen, we don’t exactly have a choice,” he says, his voice filled with patience that I’m not sure I deserve.
“I know that,” I reply, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Then let’s go,” he answers, his eyes blazing with determination.
