Page 72 of Foresyth Conservatory
I ran faster, my feet pounding the stone floor. And in the back of my mind, a voice whispered:Who are you really running from?
Chapter 24: An Unexpected Visitor
Sometimes I found myself glad that my father was dead. At least he didn’t have to witness how pathetic I was, running through tunnels, tears streaking down my face like a child.
Emotions are just a physiological response to stimuli. Control them. Don’t let them control you.His voice echoed in my mind, sharp and clinical. I swallowed the tightness burning in my throat and forced myself to breathe deeply, methodically.
Inhale, exhale.
Bit by bit, my pulse slowed, the panic retreating like a receding tide.
I wasn’t falling apart. I was just overwhelmed. Sleep—that’s what I needed. Then I’d be able to think clearly. But before I exited the tunnels, I forced myself to stop, pulling out my notepad. I scribbled down the details of the tunnel system, noting which entrances were blocked, and the path back to Aspen’s workshop. I’d need that information again soon.
Stick to what you can prove. Fact, not feeling.My father’s mantra whispered in my ear, as if he were standing right behind me. Cold. Unyielding.
I needed answers. Not emotions. And I needed them soon.
My ankle throbbed with every step, swollen from my reckless escape, and my head felt like it was moments from splitting open. Somehow, I managed to sneak back to my room undetected. I tore off my clothes and collapsed ontothe bed, feeling a sense of relief as the House’s shadowed corridors closed around me. I’d been cautious, careful, yet part of me felt grounded here, tethered to something I couldn’t understand. As if Foresyth had started to sink its roots into me, anchoring me into its dark soil.
I rolled over, my skin still tingling with the ghost of Aspen’s touch. My lips burned with the memory of our kiss. How had I been so foolish? How could I have trusted him, even for a second? But in the back of my mind, the memory of his lips lingered, defying all logic, dragging me back into the feeling of that moment.
I couldn’t afford to be reckless anymore. I couldn’t afford to trustanyof them. I was so close to uncovering the truth that Julian had taken to his grave. I just had to keep pushing a little longer.
Sleep didn’t come easily. I tossed and turned for what felt like hours, my mind chasing shadows in the dark. But when exhaustion finally claimed me, the sound of shattering glass rattled through my dreams.
*
I awoke drenched in cold sweat, my throat raw from a tangled scream, and the vivid image of my father morphing into a serpent still searing in my mind’s eye. I blinked hard, trying to shake it off. Glancing at my watch, I saw it was just after six in the morning. Plenty of time to investigate before the others stirred. I threw the covers aside and swung my legs over the bed, testing my right ankle with a slow, circular motion. It ached, but the pain was tolerable.
As I crept down the stairs, I was careful to avoid the boards I knew would betray me with their creaks. The House, as if aware of my plan, seemed to cooperate, granting me asoundless descent. The Meister’s office was my first target. He was complicit in Julian’s murder, and I just needed to provehow.
I reached the door of his office, an imposing slab of mahogany with a gold-encrusted doorknob. But the door was locked. He was likely away on Advisor business.
I ran my fingers over the keyhole, assessing the lock. Retrieving a hairpin from my bag, I crouched down and got to work, twisting and turning, but after five frustrating minutes, the lock refused to give. It was as though something was wedged deep inside, blocking my progress.
I sighed in irritation, dropping my satchel to the floor to free up my hands. As I did so, the deck of Skorn cards spilled out, scattering across the floor.
Use the cards,whispered a voice, faint but unmistakable.
I froze. My heart hammered in my chest as I whipped my head around. The hallway was empty, but the voice—that voice—I knew it.
Sophia?
A shiver crawled up my spine.
First, dreams of my father turning into a serpent, now disembodied whispers. I scoffed at myself, stuffing the deck back into my satchel.
“I’m losing my damned mind,” I muttered under my breath. But even as I tried to push the absurdity aside, my fingers hovered over the cards again, an inexplicable urge pulling at me. What harm could it do?
Reluctantly, I sifted through the deck and pulled out The High Priestess. She stood at the threshold of knowledge, the keeper of secrets. I smirked to myself.
“Guide me through the doorway,” I whispered half-jokingly.
Sliding the edge of the card between the door and its latch, I felt a heat build between my fingers. A faint buzzing filled my ears, low and steady, like a pulse. I worked the card along the door’s seam, frustration mounting as nothing happened. Sweat beaded on my forehead, and I wiped it away, gritting my teeth.This was ridiculous.
But just as I was about to toss the card aside and resume picking the lock, there was a loud, satisfyingclick. And then the door swung open.
I stared at it, breathless. Pride ran through me in a hot wave.
