Page 4 of Of Flames and Fallacies (Arterian #1)
four
TRAPPED
My mind reels with each step taking me closer to home. The clamor of the busy main street falls away to silence as I leave Padmoor. The quiet secludes me within my own thoughts. I find myself ruminating over the intensity of Willard’s tone. Perhaps he was drunk. Maybe he was mistaken.
Or maybe I’m the one mistaken, and this is a bad idea.
But Willard instructed me to return the stone where I found it, and I’m too far from Padmoor now to report it to the council. Besides, if it isn’t a stone, what would a dragon egg be doing out here?
Maybe it’s a fancy riverstone and Willard thought I stole it out of desperation, and he wants me to return it before someone realizes it’s gone. In the solitude of the rolling grass-dusted hills around me, I peek in my satchel’s opening. The stunning black stone shines, my fingers edging toward it as if bewitched to touch it…
I rip back my hand and snap the bag shut, before tossing a glance over my shoulder at the distant outline of Padmoor.
I’ll report it to the council tomorrow.
In the meantime, I’ll prepare a new fishing trap. As soon as I get home, I slink into our outdoor shed for materials. My gaze lingers on my mother’s dusty bow-and-arrow hanging on the wall.
If only archery skills were genetic.
If they were, I’d be gifted enough to be an archer for the military. Like my mother was. Maybe even skilled enough to be an archer for the King. The pay alone would cover our medication and food costs. I brush my fingertip down the bow’s string, a line of dust coats my skin. All I need is time to practice.
But time isn’t a luxury I have.
I gather materials and work the rest of the day bending and weaving inside our home. The sun sets by the time I stop. Blisters nick my fingers, and my stomach roars with hunger. I’m partly relieved my mother hasn’t stirred since I’ve been home.
The trap isn’t complete enough to warrant it a successful one. Slumping in the chair I’ve been sitting in, I chew my lip, pushing the trap onto the table in defeat. The candlelight scatters dancing shadows across the opposing wall. I watch in silence, hoping for some hidden sign or answer. But nothing comes to me. Instead, I flick my gaze over to where my mother carved into the wall last week.
Secrets never die, they’re just buried in a grave.
Secrets never die, they’re just buried in a grave.
Secrets never die, they’re just buried in a grave.
Secrets never die, they’re jus
Over, and over, and over. Until the fourth row down it pauses halfway through the sentence, where I stopped her. I started hiding any sharp objects, for fear she might someday turn it on herself.
Or…me.
Leaning back into my chair, I rest my heels on the seat across from me. The seat she used to sit in. How I would do anything to have her back in that chair. Or anything, at all, just to have her back.
Perhaps I’ll feign ignorance if it truly is a dragon egg. Insanity from malnutrition…maybe my mother’s mental illness is genetic?
With a sigh, I push to my feet. There’s no use in ruminating on it. Not when I can do that tomorrow.
I blow out the candles and shut all of the windows. By the time I’ve tip-toed back to my room and collapsed into bed, exhaustion drags at my eyelids. I stare at the ceiling and the wooden pillars slanted above me.
They tie me back to the forest. To my father and brother. The forest makes me feel so small, and my problems so minute in comparison. That it really, truly doesn’t matter. Whether tomorrow is the day I die. Or the day after. At least I wouldn’t suffer anymore.
Because I’m not cut out for this. I wish I could switch places with my brother or father. I know they’d figure a way out of this. They’d take better care of my mother than I’ve been able to. I wonder if they’d be as ashamed of me as I am of myself. Because at the end of the day, I’m incapable. Useless. Helpless.
My eyes fall closed, and I drift into sleep.
A sharp creak and crash rips me out of my slumber. My eyes flash open to orange-bathed beams above me. I’m not sure if it’s morning, or how I’ve managed to sleep in so late.
“Katerina!” my mother screams.
I whip out of bed, blinking away the sleep as my gaze focuses. A wave of unsettling heat washes over me. Flames lick up the side of the wall and the dresser near my door, crackling from the intense heat.
“Mother!” I run toward the door. Another loud crash sounds outside my room, and the ground shivers under my feet. I hastily grab the doorknob, the heated metal sears my hand. I jerk back. Snatching my cloak I left draped over the edge of my bed, I wrap the fabric around my hand before twisting the knob and pushing the door open. It stops after a few inches. On the third attempt, I ram my shoulder into the wood, an ache flashing in my arm. Still, the door doesn’t budge. My breath comes out in pants from the exertion and smoke filling my nose.
A familiar set of blue eyes flashes in the small gap between the door and frame. My mother frantically stuffs a bag through the opening, her nimble fingers working the satchel inch by inch. “Take it!”
I grab the bag, tugging it until the pressure releases and it slips free. Rivers of perspiration glide down my neck and back. My gaze flickers to the fire, now only a few feet away and climbing toward the ceiling. Thick smoke weaves its way into my lungs, tickling my throat. I slam against the door once more, desperate to get to my mother, but the heavy wood barely budges. My breath quickens with growing realization—I’m trapped.
“Listen to me!” my mother shouts over the roaring flames. “Find Cole, and take her back to the Dragon Lands. You aren’t safe here. Don’t come back. Trust no one!”
“Her? What are you talking about?” A cough steals my breath, the mix of heat and smoke burning in my chest. “Meet me at the front. Can you get to the front door?”
She shakes her head with soft, misty eyes. Despite her tears, the glassy look I’ve come to know is missing. In fact, her entire demeanor is different—lucid in a way she hasn’t been since before my brother died. “I love you so much, Kit.”
My heart plummets. She hasn’t used that nickname since I was a kid. Since before she got sick. With a grunt, I drive my shoulder into the door again, but another cough racks my body. My eyes burn from the smoke clouding the room.
“Stop!” Mother reaches through the gap of the door and touches my cheek. “If you don’t go now, you’ll be dead.”
The tenderness of the gesture and clarity in her gaze paralyzes me.
Something crashes in another room, and she whips her head over her shoulder before turning back to me. “Go. Now!”
The dresser to my left collapses, swinging toward me. I jump out of the way, dodging it just in time. When I peer into the gap where my mother was only moments before, she’s gone.
I fumble backwards, shoving my boots on without tying the laces and throwing her bag over my shoulder. My own satchel sits on the ground near the bed, the flap open, and the stone missing. Panicked, I scan the room, searching as flames creep closer. From the corner of my eye, an orange light reflects off a dark, shiny surface peeking from beneath the edge of my bed. I reach for the stone, but the surface singes my fingertips. Crying out, I jerk my hand back.
The stone, I realize, is no longer whole but fragmented into pieces. As though it’s been broken open like a chicken egg.
I drop to my knees and squint through darkness and smoke for a better look. A pair of reflective orbs shine back at me in the light of the dancing flames. Before I can register what’s before me, the orbs blink and race toward me. A small dark creature scampers up my arm and onto my back as I writhe. Every doubt it was a “riverstone” is wiped away.
Before I can remove the creature from my back, another loud shriek rips my attention to the ceiling. Above me, the wooden beams scream as flames engulf it. One buckles under the attack, swinging down and rocketing into the side of the wall near the window, shattering the pane.
The window.
I dive through its gaping mouth and land on my face. The creature on my back jumps off and disappears into the shadows of the night. I push back onto my feet, struggling to stay upright as another cough chokes my breath. I circle to the front of the house and my skin crawls at the raging inferno decimating our small home. The only home I’ve ever known. Walls slump inwards, parts of the roof cave in, and a near-blinding flare pulses in the night. I race for the front door and find it stuck.
“Mother!” I punch the wood, desperate for it to open. Pledging everything I am to get to her. I have to get her.
I have to save her.
Balancing on one leg, I rear back and drive my heel into the door.
Once.
Twice.
Panic sinks me, like a heavy rock in the pit of my stomach—this isn’t working.
I dash to the window leading to her room, but the walls groan, and the glass explodes. Embers spout from the fire, whipping across my face. I duck my head into the crook of my arm as an earth-shattering tremor reverberates over the ground. Before I can react, the walls of our home ripple like liquid and collapse.
A tidal wave of smoke races toward me. With no further hope of saving my mother or our home, I finally turn and run for the forest. The wind rips past me, chilling my sweat-coated skin and breaking it out into goosebumps.
I don’t slow until I’ve reached the forest.
My chest heaves and breath sputters. I fold to my knees and release a ragged cough. I don’t stop until I’m choking. My heart pounds, and my body trembles with each labored breath I suck into my lungs.
I dare a glance back toward the cottage, mentally begging my mother’s silhouette to walk out the front door and escape the flames stretching into the night sky.
A loud crack splits the night and sparks burst into the air. The last of my hope dies in my chest as what’s left of our home caves in.
A quiet numbness washes over me, broken only by the echo of my mother’s voice in my head. I crack. And sob.
My chest is heavy and empty all at once. A raw pain, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, tears through every inch of my soul.
The world spins around me before I fall to the forest floor. A distant pain roars in my skull as I connect with the ground. Stars twinkle in my vision before they turn black, and my mother’s voice echoes inside my head.
Trust no one.