Page 43 of Compass Points
Her heart.
Mom and Dad were in the kitchen on the floor, throats slit and limbs at incorrect angles. Mom, always the defender, was closer to the door, as if she’d noticed the threat a moment too late. Not able to get in front of Dad to stop it.
In the family room, Grandpa must have been sitting with his knitting. A knife was still stuck in his heart as if someone had thrown it on their way by, not bothering to stop and collect it.
The tears started without a thought. She was kneeling in the kitchen, crawling through her parents’ blood, trying to make sense of the carnage. Who would have done this? Why? Then she heard it—voices outside the cottage.
“I just saw her go in. Let’s do it now and get this over with.” The voice was too familiar. She couldn’t process the implications of hearing it outside, of it saying those words.
She smelled smoke from the front of the house as she heard something bulky sliding across the ground. Something was being pushed in front of the door, blocking her in. A fire began to crackle. The evidence of her family’s fate, and hers momentarily, would be ashes soon enough.
Still, she couldn’t move to save herself. Covered in her parents’ blood, she held Mom’s body in her lap as she rocked back and forth on the floor. Tears continued to stream down her face.
She looked at the family that she loved. They were gone to her now. She knew, more than anything, they would want her to get out. To get away.
The voice outside struck her ears again.
Aiden.
How could Aiden’s voice be outside? How could Aiden be any part of this?
Rose moved to the front window as smoke began to fill the room. As if her brain needed visual confirmation of what she already knew to be true, she sought the owner of the voice. Aiden stood feet from the cottage with two of his father’s lackeys.
His eyes were a dark grey.
She’d seen the grey more and more, but nothing could have prepared her for this. Sure, he was different when his eyes flashed grey.
Grey-eyed Aiden cared only for himself.
But even grey-eyed Aiden couldn’t do this. She looked back at her family, tears still spilling down her face. She looked out the window again. Aiden’s eyes remained grey, no return to their usual blue. She didn’t have time to think about this as the heat set in around her, as the fire burned hotter and faster. It began to consume the cottage, moving towards her spot of chaos, confusion, and devastation in the kitchen.
She’d mourn later. She’d think about what this all meant later. Right now, she just had to survive.
Mom had taught her perseverance. She wouldn’t give up when a dagger wouldn’t bend to her will nor when her only friend betrayed her and her family.
She pulled Mom to her one more time, kissing her forehead. She gently set her back on the floor and rolled to her knees.
She was sure both exits were blocked, and Aiden and some thugs were out front. That made the back door, with the covered porch, her best chance for escape. Her water magic felt far away, and Aiden would undoubtedly be ready for that.
No, she’d need to do something he didn’t expect to get out of here alive. She was glad now that Mom had made her keep her secret.
She crawled through the cottage to the back door. The covered porch was its own kind of garden. It was surrounded by bushes too thick and high to fight through and framed by a wood fence that allowed air to blow in on hot days. No windows were in the back, but the covered porch door wouldn’t budge when she pushed. As expected, something was blocking the way.
Though this was the farthest from where the fire had started, she still felt the heat following her through the halls. The smoke preceding it began to fill the room. She coughed as she crouched, trying to figure out what was outside the door and how she could move it.
She closed her eyes and thought of the time in the workshop with Mom and all the times they’d secretly practiced after.
She knew she could use her wind magic. There was little chance that Aiden would understand what she’d done. It was this or perish along with her family. Mom would forgive her for using her wind freely now.
The fire creeping ever closer, smoke filling her lungs, she closed her eyes and reached for the hidden strength. She pulled a gust forth, smothering the flame, so she had more time to think.
She checked again through the glass, trying to see what was in front of the door. It was no use. It didn’t matter anyway. She was sure it was something she shouldn’t be able to move. But with the help of her wind, maybe she could.
She didn’t think of the summer breeze crossing the lake on the hottest day this time. That was happiness to her. Instead, she thought of the coldest winter night, a bone-chilling wind ripping through the forest as she rushed to finish collecting sticks for the fire. This wind sank into her skin, freezing everything it touched, propelling her to pick up sticks faster and return to the cottage, her family, and the warm fire.
At the thought of her family around the fire, she nearly crumpled.
Survive. She just needed to survive. They needed her to survive.
