Page 23 of Revenant

Just the night. Because come morning, I’ll be at this door, and nothing is going to keep me from seeing her. I’ll beat this door down until there’s nothing but splinters of wood in its place if I have to.

8: Alicent

Eyes heat the back of my head as the hallway swims in my vision. But nothing’s there when I turn around.

Alicent.

My name echoes through the hall, calling to me like a lost friend. I close my eyes, inhaling deeply as I try to calm my nerves. “It’s not real. It’s not real.” My words sound like a soft plea, as if I’m trying to convince myself it’s the truth. A door slams behind me, and I involuntarily jump from the force. Tears sting the back of my eyes, and I beg myself to wake up. Consciousness evades me, trying to claw itself back to the surface, but fails.

The hallway is dark, only slivers of moonlight shining at each end. I attempt to make out the room numbers so I can get a sense of where I am. But they’re all hazy, disoriented as though even the smallest of hints would offer me too much mercy.

A floorboard creaks to my right, and a weight presses down on my chest, as if something is urging me to run. I don’t second-guess it. I race down the hall, ignoring how heavy my limbs become with each step, praying there is somewhere safe on the other end—and not another monster lying in wait.

It’s not real, I remind myself. But it’s hard to listen to logic when the other part of me is screaming to run.

My body tingles, something foreign vibrating beneath my skin as if it’s coming alive.

Alicent.

The voice is unfamiliar, distorted and eerie, one that feels underlined with intent. I don’t lift my foot enough before taking another step, tripping over my own feet, and fall face first. My arm skids across the rug, the burn settling in instantly and leaving no doubt I’ll have a mark when I eventually snap out of this nightmare.

I push myself back up onto my feet, not thinking about the sting, or how my ankle throbs just a bit. The cold air nips at my exposed flesh as I push open the double doors, goosebumps scattering over my skin without permission.

Rounding the corner, I fling myself against the wall, keeping my back pressed against it with as much force as I can manage. The fresh air feels nice, entering my lungs with an ease that’s almost refreshing. I don’t know why this is happening again. Before I came here, I hadn’t had a nightmare since I was a child. And yet, since arriving at Veilcrest, I haven’t had a single good night’s sleep. Maybe it’s a bad omen, my subconscious warning me I should leave.

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, the awareness that I’m no longer alone out here settling deep in my bones. My gaze slowly drifts to my right as paralyzing fear takes hold.

A figure stands on the other end of the bridge, cloaked in shadows. The person’s head tilts to the side, as if they’re curious—studying me.

They take one, deliberate step forward, and I don’t hesitate. I continue down the bridge, ignoring the sound of fallen footsteps at my back. My feet stumble as I descend the spiral staircase, the adrenaline pumping through my veins is enough to resurrect the dead.

You can’t run forever.

The voice is all consuming, bouncing off the stone pillars, making it sound like it’s coming from all directions. I make a break for the quad, and when the silence becomes too much to bear, I go against my better judgment and look over my shoulder. The figure stands beneath the bridge, between two pillars, stalking me like a predator does its prey.

My foot catches on something, and I hold in a scream. Thankfully, I throw my hands out just in time before my face smacks against the unforgiving ground.

Rolling over, I make sure the mysterious person hasn’t decided to attack at my most vulnerable. But my eyes are met with empty space, the figure gone, and I’m not sure whether that’s a blessing or a curse.

My eyes downcast, curious what in the world I could’ve tripped over. The scream I kept in so graciously earlier releases without permission. A body lies on top of the grass, unnaturally pale and unmoving. I scurry backwards, creating distance as a tear skates down my cheek, my hand moving to cover my mouth, trying to suppress the sobs.

She’s dead.

Cautiously, I move toward her, staring at the girl who I can’t place. Chestnut brown hair splays across her face, concealing her identity. Truthfully, I’m not sure I want to know. But nobody deserves this. My fingers move to her neck, pressing slightly to check for a pulse—knowing damn well I won’t find one.

I press a little too hard, causing her head to lull to the other side. Her hair falls from her face, unveiling her features one strand at a time. Dark blue eyes stare up toward the night sky, dull and lifeless. A gasp lodges in my throat, and I rip myself away as if the recognition slams me in the chest. Fear engulfs all my senses, stirring in the pit of my stomach until all that’s left is gut-wrenching nausea.

Reyna.

My roommate. The one I never really got to know, the one I saw only hours before at the bonfire, is dead.

9: Alicent

At this exact moment, someone could convince me I’m dead. That somehow I fucked up so miraculously in a past life that this hangover is my punishment. I’m upright, but barely—my head is reeling, pounding against my temples with a vengeance. My stomach’s queasy enough that one wrong smell might have me blowing chunks all over Moriah’s floor. And if it weren’t for the plush rug under my feet, I’d swear I was on a ship in the middle of a storm.

I’m never drinking again.

The motion gets to be too much, so I ease myself down, rolling onto my side. I take slow, deliberate breaths, trying to keep every bodily fluid exactly where it belongs—and if things go south, at least I won’t end up aspirating on my vomit.