Page 74 of Hunted in the Shadows
My fingers curled, my intention strengthening without reservation. Shadowy, dim surroundings took form around me. I was nestled deep under the earth, with soft moss crawling over parts of the domed ceiling above me. My family’s hearth room in Elysia.
The details wavered like trying to peer through a foggy window. Each clicked into place with startling clarity the longer I looked at each spot. The wide stone fireplace was crackling gently. A stove sat beside it, radiating heat I could nearly feel as a dented kettle of herbal tea simmered. The counters were wooden, surfaces worn smooth and gleaming from years of use. Shelves dominated one wall, packed with jars of dried flowers, spices, and berries.
Two arched corridors led off from the hearth room, leading to the two bedrooms. I muscled down the sudden urge to sprint toward the hall that led to my old bedroom, to burst inside and collapse on my quilted bed beside Hazel.
In the center of the kitchen, a round table sat with chairs neatly tucked around. The clay pot I had crafted when I was seven was at the center, stuffed with wilting wildflowers that threatened to overwhelm it. The table was set for tea, with a plate of ginger tarts at the center—all the makings of a quiet Elysian morning, when it was just Mother, Hazel, and me in the comforting solitude of our dormitory.
As the dizziness passed, and I stopped looking for holes in the illusion, my gaze stilled on the table.
It was set forfour.
Above the fireplace, a family portrait was hung, aged bronze framing the canvas in subtle ivy designs. Frowning, I stepped deeper into the memory, tasting the moment frozen in time. That painting hadn’t hung there in years; Mother had long ago tucked it into a spare wardrobe, wrapped in a sheet. Which meant—this was the Elysia from my childhood.
I stood before the painting. I hadn’t thought about it or even seen it in years, but my mind conjured it so clearly as though it had never left. The four of us—laughter sparkling in every gaze. Blissfully unknowing of what lay ahead.
Mother’s red hair spilled down her shoulders in waves, the way mine did when I’d been little. Father was seated beside her, his strong jaw and flinty blue eyes complementing her regal features. His chin-length tawny blonde hair was exactly how I remembered it. He often joked boastfully how lucky he was that both girls took after their radiant Mother—apart from Hazel, who shared his striking eyes.
He was holding Hazel in the crook of his arm, her cheek resting against his chest. She’d been such a round, giggly toddler back then—a terror even before her wings fully developed.
Stars, I missed her.
And then there was me, standing all of eleven summers, trying to look older than I was and likely fighting the urge to squirm with impatience. An odd mix of compassion and sadness gripped me as I stared into my own face.
Suddenly, everything felt too real. Sensations were supposed to be muted in the spectral realm, but I could practically smell the fragrant steam wafting off the tea. If I closed my eyes and focused, I could picture my family behind that bedroom door. Mother and Father fussing over Hazel.
I took a step toward the door, my mouth dry. I swore that was the dulcet rumble of my father’s voice. Would I be able to see them all here? Speak to Father beyond the grave?
My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob. What would I say to him? The murmured conversation continued. I could hear them clearly now—
From the other side, the doorknob rattled and turned.
I gasped, staggering back.No,I couldn’t do this. My back slammed into the dining table, sending a chair onto its side and porcelain teacups shattering on the floor. I felt gravity give out beneath me as I whispered the release spell in a panicked, hurried breath.
Back in my body, I wrenched upright, sucking in a deep breath of clean forest air.
“Fuck!” I frantically swept my hand through the dirt to break the rune—as though the memory might chase me back into the real world.
I sat with my knees to my chest, grounding myself to the sounds of the woods around me. My breaths labored, heart thudding in my chest like a hummingbird trying to break free of a cage.
Even for a first attempt, the illusion had been vivid. The nomadic journals hadn’t been so blinded after all. If I had devoted more energy, perhaps Iwouldhave seen Father there—Hazel and Mother in the golden light of my memories. It would be enough to make anyone want to stay. Perhaps never leave at all.
Snap.
I flinched at the sound of a twig crunching. My wings flew open, lifting me into a hover—out of reach, at least seven feet in the air. I’d been vigilant for owls and hawks while I wandered, but as I strained my ears against the ambient humming of insects, this rhythm was distinctly human. Slow, deliberate footsteps over fallen leaves.
My mind immediately went to Rhett. After what I’d done to him,of coursehe would hunt me down and strip me for parts like he’d intended for that poor siren.
Though my surface wounds were healed, my graze from the iron still left me shaky as I tried to muster magic to my hands. This time, I had no gem shard to help me. Frost curled up to my elbows. It would have to be enough. No one would thaw him out this time.
The moment the man’s shadow emerged from the trees below, I shot a hard line of frost at his head.
The man cursed, his deep voice carrying in the trees as he ducked. The tension in my shoulders went slack.
“Hey, take it easy before you pass the fuck out again,” Cliff called, peering up at my tree. He held up his hands in mock surrender before dusting off his long-sleeved tee from remnants of frost. He spotted me and offered a sportive little smile in greeting.
Embarrassment mingled with relief. “I thought you were…” I swallowed, glancing through the forest. No more footsteps. Only him. I shook my head. “What are you doing, anyway? Here to babysit me?” The words came with more bitterness than I’d intended, but I couldn’t shake the image of the boys conspiring to take shifts to keep a watchful eye on me after the events at the outpost.
“Stealing your idea. It’s nice out here,” he said. “Good place to get drunk.”
