Page 32 of A Light So Blinding
What had she gotten herself into now?
Twelve
Bjorn
Bjorn pushed the door open and stepped into his past. It was so strange to walk through that door of twigs, knowing that the person who had once lived here was long gone.
It was exactly as he remembered, although covered in dust and perhaps rotted from years of no one being here. The cottage might’ve looked like a hovel to some, but he’d grown up around blood witches. He knew what their homes looked like, and he knew what to expect.
“This was the home of a blood witch,” he murmured as he stepped across the threshold. “Her name was Embla.”
Like saying her name had awakened something in the home, all of a sudden there was light. The shadows were banished by hundreds of will-o'-the-wisps who had served this blood witch for centuries. Suddenly they could see that while it was a small single room, it had once been very comfortable. On his right were walls of old spellcrafting materials. Bones of every kind of animal safely kept in jars that were always where she had leftthem. Although all the jars were now covered in a fine layer of dust.
Beyond that, at the back of the room, was a small seating area. Although a few clods of dirt had fallen onto the couches, Bjorn knew they would be very easy to clean off. They were facing an old fireplace that was only lit when Embla had known she was safe. The stone hearth stretched all the way up to the earthen ceiling.
Her kitchen was in the back left, a homey part of her abode that had always been full of light and life. As though the ghosts of his past had awoken, he saw trolls wandering there. His mother and her sisters, another blood witch who had come to visit, all of them vibrant as they were the day he’d seen them here. They were all huddled around the stove, joking with each other and pushing to be the first person to taste what Embla had made.
And then to his left, a bed that had broken in half from crumbling age. It was still covered with the same patchwork quilt he remembered from his childhood, though. The same one that had always made him lift it to his nose and deeply inhale, because it smelled like home, and memories of when everything in his life had been calm.
The entire room was illuminated by wisps decorating the ceiling, dotted about so they looked like stars. They were so pretty, hundreds of them in glimmering golden light that made the entire room far more welcoming than it likely seemed to her.
He moved aside and allowed Astrid to explore. She didn’t seem ready to do so, however. She stood next to him, her hands clasped at her waist in that prim and proper way that set his teeth on edge.
She was nervous. He could tell that much. But why?
This was home. This was a place where she could feel safe. No one would find them here, and perhaps she needed to hear that.
“No human has ever discovered Embla’s house,” he said. “We are safe here. Safer than any other place in the forest while they hunt us.”
“I...” She took a deep breath. “I don’t think we see the same place.”
He glanced around, trying to see the room through her eyes. But he really couldn’t. “What do you see?”
“The home of a witch. The bones give it away, of course. The herbs hanging from the ceiling. The smell of mildew and musk in the air. This place is probably cursed, and I know the feeling of witchcraft on my skin when I feel it.” She ran her hands up and down her arms. “There is more danger here than in sleeping on the forest floor.”
That was ridiculous. “This is my aunt’s home. Embla was family. If there are any of her spells still alive, they certainly would not react to me.”
Perhaps she was merely reacting to seeing the home of a troll. He was certain this was not what she was used to, and she looked out of place here. With her pretty silver gown, she looked like someone had pasted her into this space. The discomfort practically radiated out of her. Even when he pointed to the chairs, she refused to move away from the door.
At least she’d closed it behind her. He’d mark that as progress.
“Are you thirsty?” he asked.
At her slight nod, he got to work in the kitchen. Fortunately Embla’s piping still worked. He turned the water spout on and let it run for a while, since dirt had clogged it in the time since anyone had used it. Soon enough, the spring water would be drinkable, and he could use it to start some tea.
Wood still sat in the corner from the last time Embla had brought it in. Some spell must have been placed on the woodbox,because it didn’t look all that old. It should have been rotten at this point, but it would burn nicely in the stove.
It hit him then. Not when they’d been running through the fields, not even when he’d stepped foot into this house. Only in that instant, making tea on a stove, did he realize he was free.
He was no longer in that horrible place. He was no longer subjected to fighting or killing whenever humans pointed him like an arrow. He was here. Back in the same place he had been as a child, and now he was...
Free.
A low laugh started in his chest before it burst forth. The sound must’ve sounded manic, or perhaps insane, but he couldn’t stop laughing because he wasno longer in the labyrinth. And all it had taken was a priestess, just like the beginning of his life.
The sound ripping out of his chest was equal parts humor and grief. He laughed until tears ran down his face, mourning the ten years he had lost in that place. But he also laughed because he had given up hope that he would ever be free again. Those emotions spilled out of him until his ribs ached, his stomach burned.
He no longer had to sleep with one eye open, waiting for a guard to prod him awake in the middle of the night. He didn’t have to fear what they would ask him to do next. No more killing. No more unwanted touches from unwanted people.
