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“She told me over and over she wanted you to have this when you turned eighteen, as if…deep in her gut she knew something might happen to her.” He squinched his eyes shut. “I know I’m a forgetful old guy, but I’d never forget this.”

Silence, such deep, cataclysmic silence, hung on the air with his words.

And still, I thought about rejecting it. Not because of her, but because I didn’t deserve it—her sympathy, her love, whatever the necklace represented. Yet…I pulled back my hand, clasping my fingers around the pendant, and held it close to my heart.

I stared at my bedroom’s ceiling, the glossy surf posters lit by the atomic yellow glow of celestial stickers, as I replayed my dad’s words. My mom’s—now my—necklace settled against my chest. I spun its silver chain and cuddled further into the warmth of my geometric-patterned quilt.

Light from a passing car slipped through the cracks in my blinds, illuminating my room, and I flipped onto my side. Old photos, like the one that stared back at me from the frame on my nightstand, and distant memories, like the rare one tonight given by my dad, pieced together an image of the woman I’d never see again. The woman I’d never live up to, a little voice started to tell me before I banished it from my mind.

My own self-doubt was loud and clear, but I expected much more commentary—a feisty outburst from the first, maybe a spark of interest from the second, or some wry humor from the third. There was none of that. There was nothing.

Closing my eyes, I took a controlled breath in and focused on every sound: the slatted blinds clinking on the breeze, the water pipes humming in the walls, the pastel sheets creasing around me…Nothing else materialized, except the whine of a mosquito flying around my head. I swatted at it and huffed.

“Some still feeling sensitive over what happened earlier?” I didn’t try to hide the bite in my tone. “Oh, you didn’t actually leave—because that would be a miracle.” Silence answered me, pressing in on my senses, louder, harsher than any auditory episode. I sat up abruptly. “Did you?”

I took my annoyance out on the duvet, flattening the fluffy barricade around me with dramatic strikes and puffs. The blue pendant settled at the base of my neck. Every fiber in my body lightened with its touch as if I’d drift up into the clouds. Not from nerves. Not from grief. From the opposite of it. Happiness?

No, happiness was a pipe dream. But this was pretty close.

I held on to the feeling, whatever it was, letting it lift me high above the seeds of worry, as I drifted off to sleep.

The darkness swallowed everything. My quick breaths, my cries for help, the echo of my footsteps. Nothing, no one, escaped this black hole of a place that sucked all color, all life from existence.

A flash cut the void—a star born out of the nothingness. It pierced my vision with pulsing white blotches. When those settled, I blinked, and faced a large white door.

Tentacles of light crept through its cracks, dancing over my face and downturned lips. Fighting my hesitation, with trembling fingers I grazed the lines of thin text carved into its frame, written in a language I didn’t understand or recognize. I pressed a hand to the center of the door. It swung open.

I peeked through the opening at a forest.

Colossal redwoods guarded the woodland, so tall and broad they could be the children of Goliath. A stream divided the grove, the dense branches an awning over the lazy current like a vaulted church over its pews. With a glance back to the darkness affirming I had nowhere else to go, I crossed the threshold.

The sun kissed my cheeks, and an earthy scent tickled my nose. Before I had a chance to really take in the beauty of the forest, a film of fog wisped in, graying out the sky, turning the air harsh and rotten. My cheeks suddenly burned with an icy cold that singed the tiny hairs in my nostrils. The trees shuddered, a generous portion of their leaves drying to a crisp in piles at the bases of their trunks, as if all of winter had happened in a single moment. The stream went still, stagnant, its inhabitants flopping along the banks.

Death was here. And I brought it. Spread it with every breath.

I turned to go back, but the door had disappeared.

Something fluttered in my peripheral vision and a buzzing rang in my ears. A pesky gnat or a fly or a—sprite? The fairy creature flapped its iridescent wings before me, baring miniature fangs. Its empty, black eyes held no flicker of life, like they’d been molded from the void I’d just escaped.

With a cobalt flash, it flew into the trees, leaving me stunned—and determined to catch it. Fear and wits forgotten, I sprinted into the thick of the woods, but soon lost its glinting blue trail.

Every breath stung my lungs and my ego. I almost dropped to the ground until I noticed the lagoon, and the guy standing on the opposite shore.

My heart already thudded wildly but now it felt like it might burst.

Ryder.

He was dressed in his all-black ensemble, with his hood flipped off, and the floating fish circled his reflection like a garland of death. As I stared, his head snapped to me and he pointed at me with a bloody arrow, his irises so vibrant, like they had stripped the green from the foliage.

It took forever to find my voice. “What are you doing?!”

In answer, he stretched out his arm, readied his bow, and slowly drew back the string. Crimson stained his wrist. The smirk that had once made my knees buckle now twisted into a sinister grin.

“The end is nigh, River—the transfer of power has been completed.” He released the words with an arrow, headed directly for my heart.

Chapter 7

I bolted upright, clutching my chest, choking for air, my hands slick with sweat.