Page 40 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

“Come home,” The voice echoed into vast nothingness.

“How? Tell me how!” I shielded my eyes from the blinding white light. I had a physical presence, but it was lost and meaningless in this space. My form was stuck between equally agonizing planes of existence.

“Come back to Earth.” She was so compassionate and motherly, I wanted to follow her pleas into the stark abyss. I would have trusted her blindly if given any real direction to follow.

“I don’t know how!” I screeched soundlessly. The strain on my lungs was crushing.

Every cell in my body responded to its surroundings.

I felt sickeningly high. My skin was hot, and my stomach nauseous.

My head swam, emotions seeping out of every pore.

I was on the brink of crying, laughing, and screaming all at once.

If I could get to the woman, maybe everything would make sense.

I didn’t know what I craved, but I might die if I didn’t get it.

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I shot up in bed, heart racing and sweat trickling down the back of my neck.

My mouth felt sticky and dry from dehydration.

There were at least three blankets on top of me and the fire continued to blaze powerfully.

I suspected neither was the culprit of my perspiration.

My shirt had shimmied its way up to my chest and twisted itself around my torso uncomfortably, suggesting active dreams. I quickly fixed it and rubbed the accumulated grime of sweat, tears, drool, and mucus from my face.

Desperate to move after being trapped in my nightmares, I stumbled to the deep, cushioned windowsill and looked down.

The town had lost its usual tints of greens and purples, now resembling the charcoal paintings in the storybook from last night.

All natural elements were composed of neutral browns, blacks, grays, and creamy whites.

The townspeople offered pops of color with their winter attire; a bright red jacket or a deep blue scarf contrasted against the monochromatic backdrop.

Soft voices drifted up from the first floor. Well, maybe " soft " wasn’t the word for it. The tone was harsh and pointed. Mykie and Graysen’s attempted whispers were coming out in vehement hisses.

Unable to suppress my nosiness, my bare feet carried me down the wooden hallway and stopped at the top of the stairs. My pulse was still thundering from restless sleep, and the tension in the air didn’t help. Despite my better judgment, I stationed myself on the top step.

“ Oh, and how do you think that’s going to go ?” Mykie’s voice snapped.

“ I don’t know ,” Graysen snarled back. I thought I might be hearing a genuine growl shaking the air, but I wasn’t sure who it belonged to.

“ And what if somebody realizes? What then ?” Her lecture had a strong edge of condescension. I could practically see her sharp teeth clenched closed for her words to scrape past them.

“ Don’t you think that I’ve thought about that ?! Aren’t you the one who —” Graysen’s voice roared, abandoning its efforts to remain muffled. The sheer volume and ferocity of his eruption startled me, I stepped back from the sound instinctually. A floorboard let out a snitching creak. Shit.

“ Oh no, this isn’t about me! I think—”

“ Shhhhhh ,” he hushed her less than subtly. “Faeryn? You up?” he called, a neutrality washing over his words.

My face twisted into a grimace. I’d been caught.

“Yeah, I’m up.” My voice was high, innocent, nothing-to-see-here, as I walked down the steps to greet whatever mess I’d been sleeping through.

“How’d you sleep?” Graysen’s smile was apologetic when I walked into the kitchen. It lacked teeth, likely effortful given his glowing eyes.

“I’m sorry if we woke you up,” Mykie flatly apologized, staring at Graysen. “He was just being a little bit pissy about my drinking habits again.” If looks could kill .

“It’s ok.” I sat down at the counter and stared at my folded hands.

It was obviously a lie, but what could I do?

I wouldn’t be able to crack the duo. Looming secrets aside, another small part of me was bitter that this was a clear example of how Graysen was closer to Mykie.

Whatever it was that made him tick, she was privy to.

There hadn’t been any filter on that argument.

I’d fight a million battles against him if it meant losing the filter.

“I made eggs the way you like,” Graysen said with his forced innocuousness. “Would you like some?”

“Sure.” My body felt depleted. Between the freezing and the night terrors, I desperately needed to replenish my stores.

As I ate and reluctantly responded to their small talk, I found myself in a vortex of conflicting emotions.

Despite all the red flags, I wanted desperately to be by Graysen’s side.

I knew his behavior was sometimes questionable, suspicious at best. But, “ suspicious ” didn’t always mean “ malintent ”.

As I weighed basic survival instincts with faith, I realized I may have to choose one or the other.

I didn’t trust myself to make the right choice.

Not that I had many options until I could get more settled into society.

“Have you spoken with Theo about my job?” I asked, staring down at my plate.

“Not yet, my dear. The bar isn’t open yet.” Graysen failed to hide the exasperation in his voice despite his tone’s kindness.

“What made you want to work at the pub?” Mykie asked from the kitchen. I blinked twice, not believing what I was seeing. She was pouring herself a drink. I fought the urge to eye the clock in response. Clearly, Mykie was unaffected by standard societal drinking schedules.

“I just want work, I guess.”

“Well, we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other,” she said humorlessly, raising her glass in my direction. The glass pressed to her lips, and she drank.