Page 23

I slept like the dead, and when I woke at dawn, I was too anxiety-ridden to go back to bed.

I leaned into Rowen’s ear, inhaling his earthy scent. “I’m going to train. I will see you later.”

He stirred, his voice groggy. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, sleep. You need it,” I whispered, wishing I could press a kiss to his temple. “I love you.”

Once dressed and at the training grounds, I went through The Five Phases of the Moon.

The patterns were grueling. Not only was it a physical workout but a mental one as well, and I pushed myself harder than I ever had before.

I focused on perfecting each phase, adjusting my knee here or extending my lunge there. Each time I went through the movements, it brought a deeper level of understanding.

While I practiced, two earthquakes rocked the ground, each one deepening the pit in my stomach. I was nowhere near ready to face Erovos. Since my return, all I had managed to do was get the water flowing back to the village, but I had done it in the sloppiest way imaginable .

Despite the sharp stitch forming in my side, I pushed through the pain and fatigue. Even the earthquakes couldn’t stop me. They were a grim reminder of what I was up against.

Sweat trickled down my brow as I struggled with one of the more complex moves.

Everything seemed impossible and insurmountable, but I had to be better and stronger. Failure wasn’t an option.

Somehow, I needed to find a way to overcome the darkness threatening the world, but how could I when I couldn’t even overcome the darkness within myself? I was wilting from the inside out.

Maybe the key to healing and returning to my soul flame was uncovering the secrets of my past.

Rowen suggested I try mind-mending sessions with Takoda—to face my demons head-on. And perhaps I took his advice a bit too literally because there was one person I was desperate to confront.

I finished with the fourth phase and closed my eyes, searching for the thread I swore I would never touch again. I thought I had buried it deep within my subconscious but imagine my surprise when I found it behind a curtain of denial.

Even now, as I ran my fingers along the shimmering string, the thought of where it would lead, and what I would face on the other end, weighed heavily on the golden lacquer that repaired my broken heart.

I pulled on the thread anyway and landed in a familiar room. My mother’s office.

A grin spread across my face. I might suck at everything else at the moment, but at least I was good at traveling.

Even though the room was tall with vaulted ceilings, it was smaller than I remembered, less intimidating.

I scanned the rows of psychology books, notes, and journals, unsure of what I was looking for. My gaze roved over the accolades lining the walls and the couch I was forced to sit on for hours a day, recounting the same story again and again until I was blue in the face.

My eyes widened when they landed on my mother’s computer.

I walked to the bay window and sat at her desk. I’d always believed I was bad with technology, but now I understood it was the repressed Light within me. The raw energy lived beneath my skin and could short-circuit any device I touched.

The screen was black, but I quickly nudged the mouse with my finger, and the computer came to life. There were several folders, but the one titled K.C. - Treatment Plan caught my eye.

I held my breath and double-clicked the folder, using only the briefest touches to prevent the computer from exploding.

Document after document appeared as my eyes scanned the reports.

Behavioral Concerns: Persistent dissociation, maladaptive daydreaming, difficulty distinguishing dreams from reality. Physical altercations involving students, teachers, and parents, claims of electrical shock. The patient unknowingly self-harms, waking up covered in scratches and blood.

Sleep patterns include sleepwalking, night terrors, overly vivid dreams, and parasomnia.

Cognitive Health: Increased episodes of dissociation.

Treatment History: Daily psychotherapy. Intravenous administration of CereNex18. Drug left noticeable bruises on arms; switched to oral administration—spare sedatives on hand in case of emergency.

Lock on bedroom door. Cameras to monitor sleep.

Removal of beloved items when patient misbehaves.

Medical Analysis: White blood cell count is excessively high with no signs of disease or illness. The cause remains unknown.

CereNex18 is untraceable.

Treatment Prognosis: Over time, the patient experienced fewer episodes.

Dreaming subsided after three weeks of treatment.

Mental lethargy has increased, but no physical lethargy reported.

The patient sleeps through the night and has no memory of sleepwalking or violent episodes. On CereNex18, patient is manageable.

None of the eighteen versions of CereNex passed preclinical testing.

I turned away, unable to bear another word. A silent tear slid down my cheek. I wasn’t my mother’s child. I was her experiment.

I didn’t wipe the tear. Instead, I let it slide down my face, feeling every bit of pain in that single teardrop. As soon as it fell from my chin, I would be free. But in this moment, I would feel it all.

When the tear crashed to the carpet, I spun back to the screen, opened a new email, set the recipient to all contacts , and dragged the folder into the window. I couldn’t let my parents get away with this.

Just as I was about to hit send , a familiar voice halted me in my tracks.

“Oh my God, Keira! Wha . . . Where did you come from?” my mother stuttered as she nearly collapsed against her bookshelf

“I fell through stars, Mama” I said, reciting how I described it as a child—still as true then as it was now.

I stood so she could fully see me.

Her eyes widened like saucers, the whites visible all the way around. “What happened to you? You disappeared from the hospital.”

“It’s my turn to ask the questions. Tell me everything, or I’m sending my folder to everyone you know,” I said, my finger hovering over the send button.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want this sensitive information getting leaked.

You were always afraid I would destroy the image of Copeland Psychiatry, but you seem to be doing a great job of that on your own. ”

“I’m just so glad you are safe, my darling,” my mother said, running to hug me.

I dodged her embrace. “Don’t touch me,” I stammered, even though it broke my heart. My mother had never shown such affection, and my inability to run into her arms broke me in two. “It’s not safe.”

How different my life could have been if I could recall one other instance of a shared embrace.

“I’m so sorry for everything,” she said, her voice trembling as if she were about to cry.

My resolve wavered, but I quickly steeled my spine. “Tell me everything,” I demanded, my stance and tone making it clear I wasn’t leaving here without answers.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” my mother said, her strawberry-blonde hair loosening from its clip. “You were always such a strange child,” she trailed off as if unsure how to proceed. “I was frightened. For me. But more for you.”

“Go on.”

“You still don’t remember?”

“I deserve to hear it from you,” I said, my finger still hovering over the button.

“Very well,” my mom replied with a nod. “You would somehow escape out of the house every night.

The problem was isolated at first, but then you began displaying symptoms at school.

You would hurt other students and teachers.

You would tell disturbing stories of a man with orange eyes killing men, forests, and creatures and how we needed to help them.

You disturbed everyone—even me. And you would . . . hurt yourself.

“We tried everything before CereNex. We would ground you, punish you, take away your telescope. My, how you cried for that hideous thing. One day we woke to find you covered in blood. We thought you’d been kidnapped, but instead of telling the truth, you would make up outlandish stories.

We set up cameras in the house. Some nights you stayed put; others, the footage was too bright to make anything out.

It all went away when you were medicated. ”

“You weren’t medicating me. You were poisoning me. I heard Dad say it was enough to drug an elephant and that I’m lucky to be alive.”

“You do have some undiagnosed illnesses, but we can figure that out together now. We thought we were protecting you. Can you not see that your delusions run rampant? You never wanted to face the truth, and you still don’t.”

Her words hit me like a battering ram. “It was you who never faced the truth. I never lied. You just refused to listen. I wasn’t ill, I was astral projecting. Walking between worlds.”

Something flickered across my mother’s face. She eyed my strange clothing and the elongated tips of my ears. “That’s impossible. There is no evidence to support that astral projection is real. It’s pseudoscience. Unprovable.”

“I came here . . .” I choked out, my throat constricting. “I came here to tell you that you kept me from the best thing in my life. You kept me from where I was meant to be, and that nothing will ever keep me from it again. I just came to say goodbye.”

This was the most disheveled I’d ever seen her, and her eyes flashed from my hand to my eyes. She fixed the loose strand of her hair and refastened it into her clip. “Would you like to help me prove astral projection is real?”

My eyebrows furrowed. “How?”

It was an unexpected question, but I recovered quickly. She had broken me once, and I wasn’t so quick to shatter again. She turned from me and rummaged through a nearby drawer, no longer worried about the email that could ruin her reputation.

“You can start by telling me everything,” she said, slowly stepping toward me .

I couldn’t tell if my mother was sincere, but there was a flutter in my heart that wanted to give her one last chance.

“I would leave my room every night because I was astral projecting to another world—a place that called to me through the stars. Some nights, my body remained in bed while my mind traveled beyond the known universe, beyond my physical constraints. Other nights, more of me would venture out, my entire being on another plane, returning with unexplainable bruises and scratches. I found a new home, Mom, and I don’t think I’ll be coming back. ”

Suddenly, a glint of metal flashed in the sunlight.

“You need help, my darling,” she said, facing me with a syringe in her hand.

“This sedative will calm you.” Before I could register what she said, I felt a stab of pain.

I looked down in horror as a needle protruded from my skin.

My eyes widened, a tingling sensation already working its way up my arm. “Let me help you.”

I never imagined she could go this far, but as she depressed the solution into my veins, reality hit me like a sledgehammer. I had made a grave mistake in coming here. It was impulsive and stupid.

My body jerked away, but her other hand flew to keep me still. And the second her fingers came in contact with my skin, she jolted off me with a pained shriek.

I shook my head, fighting the effects of whatever sedative she’d given me. I yanked the needle out of my arm and dropped it to the ground, but the damage had been done. At least half the syringe now coursed through my veins.

My limbs grew heavy, and I tried shaking off the drowsiness that crept up my spine.

If I succumbed to the sedative, she would most likely keep me so drugged that I would never be able to return to Luneth. To Rowen.

She would prick me over and over again to get me to comply. Injecting me until my veins were bruised black and blue. Because I would never give up; I would fight her every step of the way. Even as my strength wavered, my resolve grew stronger—she would never break me again.

I stumbled to the computer as Calliope darted to the half-empty syringe on the carpet. Her gaze wild and her hair a mess.

I could barely keep my eyes open as a thick fog clouded my mind. I wouldn’t make it. The pull was too strong, the sedative too powerful. But if I fell asleep now, I would most likely wake up in a padded cell. Who knew what other drugs would be shoved down my throat and forced into my veins.

My vision doubled as my legs gave way beneath me, sending me crashing to my knees. I knocked over the framed awards on her desk, struggling to pull myself up.

With my last ounce of strength, I hit send on the email, hoping it would expose my mother’s malpractice. As my body crumbled to the ground, I prayed that the message went through and that Calliope would finally be held accountable for her abuse.

“No!” she screeched, her immaculate hair hanging in front of her face. She retrieved the syringe and rushed towards me.

My eyes closed in exhaustion, but through my drowsiness, all threads home had vanished.

Rowen. Rowen. Rowen, I pleaded over and over again, fighting against the sleep that was rushing to meet me.

I hadn’t told anyone where I was going, and the prospect of disappearing without a trace added another layer of guilt to my already weighted body.

My mother raised the needle above me when my golden soul flame bond suddenly appeared like a beacon.

Rowen was just on the other side, anchoring me to where I belonged.

Yet, the connecting thread was slightly frayed, a strand veering off in a parallel line.

Despite the tear that worried me, the weight of our bond felt like a lifeline. And I pulled with all my might .

I felt another stab in my arm, but before my mother could inject the rest of the syringe, my senses tilted, and I fell through space, time, and light.

Traveling between worlds was always a disorienting experience, but this time it was shifted and blurred—a heavy spiral that tugged me towards Rowen.

Our soul flame bond was the only constant in the whirl of chaos.

But if I didn’t concentrate with everything I had, I could end up in any world—in any space between worlds.

The two golden threads wrapped around my arms and helped pull me home.

I landed with a hard, ungraceful thud, crying out as I fell on my punctured arm. I moaned, rolling over to release the pressure on my sore limb when my eyes landed on two pairs of worn leather boots.