Her parents were so proud of her. Why couldn’t anyone else be? Why did people suddenly shy away from her? Whisper behind age-lined hands?
Such thoughts had occupied her mind, until nothing occupied it at all.
The world had muted and faded behind that door. No sounds, no smells, no colors. Save for the sound of shrieking cries, the smell of tangy iron, and the color of deepest red.
The first of her footfalls sent dust swirling about her ankles, and the memory faded.
There were no stairs in this house. Lux stepped through the shadows of the entryway, shoving the walls away from her on either side. They ceased their collapse around her mind and straightened, replacing their looming presence instead with her father’s laugh and her mother’s touch. She choked.
She knew if she were to keep going, if she were to turn the corner, the glimpse of the now-bare kitchen would give way toa rectangular room. One that once held a sofa just large enough for the three of them. One that held their bodies in death.
“First the forest. Now this house.” Lux rubbed clammy hands over her face, pushing hair from her eyes. “I must be some sort of masochist.”
The darkest part of her soul whispered, sickly sweet:You deserve it.
Hands shaking, she tried to shove them into the nonexistent pockets of her skirt. She frowned, wrapping them around her middle instead. Moonlight shone through the few cracks of the window ahead, highlighting her path in derisive, pale shimmers, and Lux had little choice but to obey it. She refused to let herself run away now.
The kitchen met her first, the cupboards open and hanging at odd angles, displaying bare shelves. The table and chairs must have been stolen long ago, as dust coated the floor without any sign of disturbance. Lux’s lips parted against the pulling sensation flooding her body, digging into her feet, turning her.
That room.
That sofa.
Her body, her mind—they were no longer under her control. She tipped forward, staggering before it. Why must it still be here? Why must she still be? Surely, she should have been taken along with them.
Lux fell to her knees.
The walls, the floors, they had long been washed clean, but the dried stains, splashed across the fabric, glittered with a silver sheen in the darkness. A cruel trick of the moon itself, never wishing to spare her from a moment’s truth.
Her mother’s voice rose from memories. Forgotten words uttered softly into her ear every night. The days spun faster and faster, her mother aging before her eyes over the short eight years she was at her side. Lux braced her hands on the fabric,and that became her undoing. Her fingers dug deep, scrabbling for air. For warmth. For light.
Shine bright, Lucena.
The sobs wracking her body, the cries echoing around her, didn’t sound like her own. The tears streaming down her cheeks felt foreign. They burned like acid. An old window cracked against the cold, and then shattered entirely.
The frigid, night air whipped in, triumphant, clawing at her skin. The clouds descended. They blocked even the moonlight from her now, but she could still feel it, watchful behind the veil.
“I’m socold.” She could see it: her soul, blackened and shriveled, a pit from spoiled fruit. Lux collapsed, her fingers slipping. What a horrible thing: to discover yourself rotted. “I should have known better. I should havebeenbetter.”
Panic. It returned with renewed ferocity. It knew it would win this time, and it shrieked with a terrible pleasure. Lux couldn’t breathe any longer, her cries choking her, her tears drowning her.
“I. Can’t. Remember.”
And when it seized her consciousness with a clawed, shadowed grip, her lashes fluttered closed in aching relief.
Chapter nineteen
Rain tapped against awindow in its redundant dreary call for her to open her eyes. Lux didn’t want to obey. Her head pulsed and her face felt gritty. The stiffness in her joints let her know, quite irritated, that they didn’t appreciate being left on rough, creaking floorboards for an entire night, either.
Lux propped an elbow underneath her with a groan, her lashes pressed tight against her cheeks. If she didn’t open them maybe it wouldn’t be real.
The rain drummed louder.
She squinted open her eyes. They burned. Her eyelids felt swollen, and for once, she felt thankful for the gloom rather than bright sunlight searing her pupils. With a final moan, she pushed herself to sitting and stretched her neck.
How different it all looked now.
She picked her mask off the floor, she took off her wings, and once shedding her feathers, she stood.
