I never thought I’d have to go back to Laverton for Areyna, but I won't let my father have her. She’s mine and nothing will stand in the way of my plans, not even my father.
My phone dings with a message from him as if to mock me.
Father: Get your ass here now. Do not disobey me again or the girl will pay the price.
TWENTY-FIVE
Areyna
I haveno idea how many hours I’ve been here for, but my body feels weak and hungry so it must have been quite a few. I thought for sure someone would have come by a guard or my captor.Someone. Instead I’ve been left alone, slowly growing weaker.
My eyes close on their own, unable to remain open even a moment longer…
The long hallway stretches on forever. Rose shaped sconces hang along either side interspersed with portraits of familiar faces. The air has that distinct scent of dust and candle wax that you’d find in old castles yet the fact the rose shaped sconces are powered by electricity belies the age of this place.
I’ve been here before, but I can’t recall when or why.
I can hear a distant noise, faint and delicate, as though the wind is shaking chimes but there’s no wind within the hallway; My hair doesn’t stir nor do I feel any breeze upon my skin. I follow the sound, curious about what could be making the chimes sing.
I walk but after a while the only sign of my progress down the hallway is the changing images. A man, then a woman, followed by portraits of more men, none of them from this era. I pass a room with an open door, peering in I see what is clearly a music room, however there’s nothing more than a single piano sitting in the middle of the room.
The sound draws me further down the hallway, past portraits of women who look as regal as queens, each one older than the one before, yet never the same person. I feel like I should know where I am, as though I should recognise each and every one of the faces I pass. Yet I can’t name a single one of them.
Another door stands open further along, the middle of the room houses nothing more than a single desk with a computer. I walk into the room, my hand running along the ancient wallpaper. Each touch makes it crumble, but I don’t stop touching the wall. There’s a compulsion within me, demanding that I keep myself grounded to the place. I have no idea why, but I do it all the same.
Once I’m standing on the edge of the room, in a position to see the screen of the computer, I stop dead in my tracks. Those eyes are unforgettable, so full of life and reminding me of the greenest trees in the deepest depths of the forest. As much as I love seeing eyes that are familiar, I feel a growing sense of dread the longer I stare at them. Leaving Richard’s image behind isn’t as hard as I might have once thought it would be.
The next open door shows me a room filled with fire. Before even taking a step towards it, I can feel the heat, but instead of walking away from it, my feet carry me towards it. Once I’ve passed the flames all I see is a single portrait hanging on the far wall. The chiselled cheekbones hidden behind black framed glasses, the lenses of which make the aqua blue of Remmie’s eyes appear to be larger than they are in real life. The portrait doesn’t capture the sweet, soft side of Remmie, instead it gives the illusion of a warrior with hard lines around his mouth and a frown marring his brow.
My heavy footsteps echo throughout the room as I finally release my hold on the wall, walking closer to the image of one of the men in my life. No matter how many steps I take, I never get any closer to the portrait. With a frustrated sigh, I turn back around, tracing the same path along the wall with my hand as I return to the hallway.
I pass several more doors, all of which are closed until finally I come across one that’s open again. This time I find a black and white photograph that shows off Derrin’s profile, his scar standing out more with the lack of colouring in the image. He looks so fierce, as though the photographer has captured the wild creature within rather than the playful man I see when I look at him.
Once more I return to the hallway, determined to find an end to this odd place. The next door leads me to a room where I find a similar portrait of Torren, only his is in colour and in it he’s holding a wad of cash and a diamond the size of his hand. His beautiful face is twisted into a vicious snarl as though he’s guarding his treasures with a single glare. What I see is once again nothing like the man I’ve come to know. My Torren is cheeky and flirty with a heart full of compassion, not this wicked man before me.
It breaks my heart to see any of the guys the way these portraits depict them, yet my feet carry me towards the next open door. I’m almost afraid to look.
Jason’s piercing grey eyes stare back at me from across the room. His normally full pouty lips thinned until they appear to almost vanish. His golden curls are swept back making his angelic face appear more mature and stricter. Like everything he sees is disappointing him in some way. He doesn’t look anything like the strong protector I know him to be.
The next room I come across is blurry, as though I’m seeing it through refracted glass. The rainbow of colours is almost blinding, yet I can see the portrait hidden at the far end of the room. The dark hair and odd eyes are unmistakable even through the array of colours. I’m not sure why I’d be seeing Rourke along with the rest of my guys, but his presence unnerves me. It’s as though he shouldn’t be here amongst the other faces, yet he’s here, standing proud and defiant.
The tinkling sound pulls me away from the curious image of Rourke and further along the hallway until I’m standing in front of a room with the door only slightly ajar. I push the door but it only moves a fraction. Something tells me I need to see what is inside the room, but the harder I push on the door, the heavier it feels. This close I can hear the sound more clearly, it’s more like coins sifting through hands than that of windchimes. I peer through the gap and gasp.
Inside is a room filled with coins, every single one is as odd as the one I possess. Mine has the face of a woman with a halo on one side and five tiny devil horned male faces on the other. I reach into the gap in the doorway and pluck a coin off the floor. It feels warm in my hand. “The choices we make are not always set by fate.” I jump back, dropping the coin and searching for the owner of the voice.
“Who’s there?” I call out, my voice echoing around me.
“Choose wisely Princess, our choices change the world. Will you choose for the good of all or will your choice make others suffer?”
I wake with a start, flashes of the faces I saw slowly fading until all that remains is the haunting image of Rourke’s mismatched eyes and the disembodied voice repeating the same question. “Will you choose for the good of all or will your choice make others suffer?”I can’t remember the last time I’d had a dream that felt as real as that one did. I don’t get the chance to really think about it though…
“Hello little Lamb.”
“Richard?” I struggle to my feet, swaying as the hunger and pain tear me apart from the inside.
“It hurts me to see you like this my love, but it’s for your own safety as well as that of everyone else.” Richard moves closer to the bars, his long fingers wrapping around the metal as though he needs something to grip to stop himself from reaching for me.
“I didn’t do anything to deserve being here. You know that, especially since you’re standing there alive.” I try to scream the words, but my voice comes out far weaker than I expected.