Page 129 of Florescentia

“Why was I created for this bargain?” I asked. “My purpose.”

“I did not lie when I told you my intentions,” he said, his voice firm, assertive. “I have tried for many years to pass. Hundreds of failed protégés, thousands of bargains, and you were the first strong enough to let me pass through.”

“What was supposed to happen after?” The words were brave. A small part of me didn’t want to know.

“You”—he brushed the hair from my face, an attempt at comfort before those next treacherous words—“were supposed to take my place.”

It was like my body went numb.

All that time convincing me he wasn’t out for anything, all that time helping me find a way to get here. He was just watching a mouse walk right into the trap.

“So this is why I cannot leave?” I pulled away from him. “All this time you knew, and you still let me believe you were protecting me.”

“You were upsetting a balance that must be paid.”

“This entire time you were trying to convince me you could be good for me, dare I say, hold some sort of love for me.” I spat the word, as if the taste caused great offense to my tongue.

“I did not lie.”

“Then why? Get it over with!” I swept my hand over the landscape. The abyss surrounded us. “Leave me in the Otherside! Go!”

“You did change my mind”—his voice now changed, distorting—“however, we cannot exist in your world together. But we can both exist in mine.”

My heart thrummed like a hive. “You are a selfish beast! You would never be able to understand what it is to be a person, a real person. You are a parasite.”

“You belong to me, not them!” he seethed, pointing to his chest. Now I could see that his eyes were glassy, his head shaking with rage. A couple of strands of midnight-black forelock whipped in front of his face. “You do not know your own potential, and you will never live up to that greatness, your creation, in that world.”

His body began to change, to grow. His inability to control his emotions made it hard to keep his shape.

I leaned back, a slow nod as I considered my next words. “I am a pet to you, a project.” I laughed. “You made me to imprison me, in the same fate you so despised.”

“At first,” he replied, his voice shaking, “but not anymore.”

We stared, and I waited for more words, more excuses. His tongue seemed to be caught, too tangled in his lies to justify his actions.

“Where am I right now?” I felt the tears in my eyes forming, genuine astonishment at the intricacies of his betrayal.

“You’re where you should be.”

“Where am I?”

“Look”—he cupped my hands in his like a prayer—“if you stay, I can let you pass to and from whenever you like. Just please—”

“Let me go,” I demanded.

“You can’t leave!” he shouted, his face contorting, half of it turning monstrous.

“You are a manipulator, a deceiver!” I shouted at him.

“Stop!” he yelled, and I threw myself back. He grew in size, the shadow taking over his form, the feathers scattering.

I stumbled back farther.

Like the first time we’d made contact, an impossibly massive black form spanned before me. It towered over the cliffside, his humanoid silhouette of shadow hanging above. His claws threatened to break the ledge under my feet. Fists the size of my entire body. The claws could break trees or impale bodies. The glow of all three of his eyes like a scrutinous spotlight.

“I never left my study, did I?” It wasn’t a question.

The beast creaked as he lowered his head, his claws digging into the side of the cliff, crumbling it. The stillness was frightening at first, like he could snap at any moment. I could be snatched up, my fate decided for me. But the longer I waited, the more I realized . . . he couldn’t.