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“I hope so, Eric. I just want one full night’s rest.”
“We can discuss some sleep aids with your primary care physician if you want to go down that route?”
“I might,” I said, leaning back in the chair and rubbing my face. The smaller window in the corner of the screen showed my exhaustion as clear as the daylight that flooded the room. The bags under my eyes were heavy, and the blond hairs on my chin were growing a little scraggly. I was never able to grow out a full beard, but these random patches of hair also weren’t a great look. On top of all that, I desperately needed a visit to my barber so that it didn’t seem as if I’d decided to throw a dirty mop on my head and called it a day.
With our session wrapped up, I closed out of the call and laid my head down on the cold desk with a sigh. This was helping. I could feel the weight on my shoulders lessen by the day, but the anxiety and dread of the future still remained. Because all I could keep thinking, over and over and over again, was that:
I had to die.
It would be the only way to break the curse. Yes, Damien and the family still held out hope that killing the Matriarch would do it, but somehow, I knew that wasn’t the case. It was as if the script had been written down in my bone marrow. I knew the way this play would end: a tragedy. For me, at least. Same way as it ended for my brother. For our mother.
But for the dragons, my death… it would be a miracle.
How could I keep living with that fact stuck in my brain like a thick, barbed thorn? It would be the ultimate selfish act, keeping the curse going by keeping my heart beating.
The room started to spin. Tears welled up in my eyes. I bit at my knuckle. I didn’t want to cry again. Not again. I’ve cried so much, haunted by so many ghosts.
I had to get up and go for a walk.
The castle was bustling with energy, even just outside of the office. Friends of the family had come to stay, living with the Blackthornes as they prepared for the fight for their lives. They had dragons, fae, shifters, Marvels, and even a couple of humans walking the halls, some of them staying in surrounding properties but coming over during the day to train and strategize.
I walked past a room where two burly men were sparring with wooden swords and another room where a few Marvels were practicing to fight with the vibrant red threads of mana that whipped through the space. I made it to the living room, where the core group of the family sat on the couch. The television was playing a newscast on mute, the reporters still discussing the horrific events at Marmont’s Chateau. The chyron at the bottom of the screen read: “No culprit or suspects for the Chateau massacre have been found. Please contact the Enforcers with any useful information.”
I sat down between Dawn and Maddox on the couch, both of them with their noses buried in books. Warrick sat with his legs crossed on the floor, a grin on his face as he looked up at me.
“How ya feeling today?” he asked, brushing a dark brown curl away from his forehead. Ivy-green scales on his left thigh peeked out from his shorts.
“Better than yesterday, so that’s a plus,” I said. Warrick was very empathetic, which I appreciated. He always checked in on me, asking how I was doing and if I needed anything. He was quickly becoming a good friend, and seeing him up and out of his bed made going through those halls of horror so worth it.
Damien came in, wearing gray shorts and a white T-shirt, the collar darkened with sweat. He smelled like the outside, having likely just come in from a run. He padded barefoot across the blue-and-white rug, sitting on the love seat directly across from me. I smiled at him, feeling a strong sense of comfort the moment he stepped into any room I was in.
Damien looked to his brother and sister. “Have you guys figured out if there’s anything on what the Matriarch is weak to?”
“Nothing in this book,” Dawn said.
Maddox shook his head. “Same here. No one’s been able to give her as much as a paper cut. Much less actually hurt her. It has to do with the parasite she ingests when she becomes the Matriarch, but there’s nothing that says how to destroy it.”
“You should have seen how my fireballs did nothing against her. It might as well have been sparks I was throwing at her.”
I sat up, deciding it was my turn to ask another probably obvious question. “Why don’t all the dragons just fly up there and fuck her shit up? She can probably survive against one, but all of you guys? That sounds impossible.”
