I shift my pillows against the headboard and settle against them to read.
Golems are strange creatures. Some historians believe they are merely extensions of a witch’s magic, while others claim they are a sentient species who deserve to be treated as such.
Golems are clay sculptures who have been imbued with magic, granting the creature false memories and emotions. The magic in a golem has often been compared to a battery that needs to be replaced over time. If the battery fails, the golem will turn to dust.
Due to the magic that powers these creatures, the majority of golems can age and bleed like any human. It is only when the golem becomes self-aware of its existence that a golem will be gifted true immortality. The golem will stop aging and will be indestructible.
I read that section multiple times, my eyes widening in shock.
I remember when I first met Jake and accidentally nicked him with my blade. He bled. Yet, after Hale and Gerry confessed the truth to him, he tried to cut himself and wasn’t able to bleed.
Is it because he was aware of his identity?
Does this mean he won’t age anymore? That he’ll be trapped in the body of an eighteen-year-old until the end of time? I doubt Hale and Gerry would’ve told Jake the truth if they were aware of that fact. I may be angry at the two of them for keeping so many secrets from us, but there’s no doubt in my mind that they love their foster children.
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I continue reading.
Golems, for the most part, are impervious to harm. There are only two ways that a golem can permanently be dispatched.
One is if the magic that powers the golem fails. This can happen in one of two ways—either time takes its course and the magic fades, or the witch or warlock who created the golem passes on. Often, this can be remedied by the witch’s or warlock’s descendants taking over the spell and imbuing the clay creature with magic. Some golems have been known to serve their masters faithfully for hundreds of years, with generation after generation powering the creature.
Masters? What the fuck type of backwater shit is this?
The only other known way to kill a golem is fire. A golem can heal from just about anything, though there have been no cases of them surviving a fire attack.
Okay, so I just need to warn Jake to never play with matches. Easy.
But what about the witch or warlock who created him in the first place? Who was it? If that magic fails…
I can’t think like that. I won’t allow it to happen.
I slam the book shut before I can read further. Every chapter I read only solidifies my terror. I’ve somehow found myself in an immensely dangerous world, full of monsters and beasts that I thought only existed in legend. And to know that the people I love are smack dab in the middle of it all?
It’s a lot to take in.
Placing the book on the bedside table, I settle beneath the covers.
For a moment, I just lie there, my eyes tracing patterns on the ceiling. Everything that happened today plays on a continuous loop in my head.
My magic.
Soraya’s help.
The Trinity’s announcement during dinner.
I’m unsure if my brain will ever shut off.
Yet I feel my thoughts begin to slow, and the quiet of the room wraps around me like a familiar embrace. I close my eyes, allowing my body to sink deeper into the mattress, surrendering to the pull of sleep. The world outside fades away, and all that remains is the softness of the night, the warmth of the blankets, and the steady rhythm of my breath as I slip into sleep.
But when I open my eyes, I’m somewhere else.
It’s dark—darker than anything I’ve ever known, like the shadows themselves have weight. I can’t see much, but my eyes adjust, and in the distance, barely visible through the blackness, I spot something.
A cage.
What the fuck?
It stands alone, like a thing abandoned, its cold iron bars standing stiff and unyielding. My heart stirs with a mix of curiosity and something else—something heavier, like fear, but I can’t explain why. I take a step forward, my feet soundless against the ground, but the cage doesn’t get any closer. The air is thick, oppressive, as if the very atmosphere is holding me back.
