The beam of light converges to a point beyond the campsite; next to a cluster of trees.
As I step into the patch of forest, the first thing I see is a red figure. This time, however, her body is not draped in flowing blood. A red veil covers her from head to toe, obscuring any detail that might render her recognizable.
The Scarlet Lady.
She’s sitting comfortably on a bent tree trunk as if it were a chaise. Her head rests on her hand as she watches me—or, at least, I think she is.
“You’re finally here,” she says in a high-pitched voice. “Do come in. I’ve been waiting for you.”
At that, I frown.
“You’ve been waiting for me?”
Memories of her previous presence trickle through my brain. I remember hernowbut somehow I lacked this knowledge before I went to sleep.
“You’re right,” she says without me speaking. “You will not remembermostof what happens here. It will stayonlybetween us. For now.”
“I don’t understand?—”
“You don’t have to.” She laughs.
“Whoareyou? And why are you always appearing before me?”
She makes a clicking sound with her tongue as she blows air against her veil. “Who am I? It’s a little too early for you to know. But I’m a friend.”
“A friend?” I snort. “Didn’t you warn me of my doom? What were your words? That Ialwaysmake the worst choices?”
She lets out a loud laugh. “You remember that becauseIwill it, so be a good boy and don’t throw it in my face. I was doing you a service.”
“Service? Lady, I don’t know you and frankly I don’t think I want to.”
“Such harsh words, Nykander. Didn’t I tell you? I’m a friend. Consider my other visits…a warning. Yes, look at them as a warning. I’m looking out for you.” She nods to herself.
“And how are you doing that? Do tell me,friend,” I say mockingly.
“I’m teaching you lessons about yourself. Come, sit by me.” She suddenly moves to a sitting position, scooting over on the tree trunk and motioning for me to sit next to her.
Perhaps I shouldn’t. But a part of me is curious. She’s both foreign and familiar and I can’t put my finger on what that means to me.
It could be a trap—that, I know. She could be someone sent by my mother to torment me before ultimately killing me. The options are endless.
And yet…
I walk to the tree trunk and sit next to her.
Her veil flutters in the wind, each breeze carrying with it a sweet scent.
I gulp down uncomfortably and place a bit of distance between us. She notices and snorts at me.
“So prim and proper.” She chuckles. “I must say, this version of you is quite striking. If I did notknowit was you, I would have never believed it.”
“What are you talking about? What version?”
“Do you consider yourself a good person, Nykander?” She suddenly asks.
I purse my lips. “I don’t know. I don’t think there’s such a thing as a good person. But I’ve been told I am by someone I trust, so in a way, I suppose I am?”
“Such a roundabout answer,” she teases with a laugh. “Why don’t you think there’s such a thing as a good person?”
