Crescent

6

Come this way.

A ghostly whisper circled Vera, repeating the same three words until she was dizzy. Come this way, it taunted her in her own voice, though it seemed to come from somewhere far away.

Vera searched the darkness for the source of the whisper, but her feet were pinned in place. All around her were shadows—pitch black and impossible to see through. She couldn't even see her own hands when she looked down. She wasn't even sure she was looking down at all; her head was spinning so violently that direction was lost on her. There was only darkness, and she was alone.

Until a light sparked. Hissing and spitting, it grew into a tongue of white fire that floated ahead of her. It was like a star, so bright she was forced to shield her eyes with her arm. Come this way, the voice said again, tantalizingly close and yet a million miles away all at once. Without waiting for her to follow, the flame drifted off and shrank into the darkness.

Vera cried out, but no sound left her lips. She lunged for the flame, but her feet still would not move. Instead, the floor disappeared out from under her and she plummeted to the empty world below.

⇠⇺☾⇻⇢

The cold tile slammed into Vera's chin. She jolted awake and wrestled herself upright, which proved challenging with her limbs tangled in her coat. Finally, she managed to roll onto her back and paused until the ache in her wounds died down. She found herself staring blankly up at a cracked light fixture that was no doubt over a hundred years old. A similar model used to hang in her and Eileen's playroom, but when it became dated, their mother had swapped it out for a fancy chandelier that glittered with thousands of mana crystals, casting rainbows of light across the walls like diamonds. Seeing the frosted glass and painted flowers of the old fixture above her head brought on a wave of nostalgia, one that left her choked up until memories of the night before slammed into her—along with the glaring pain in her swollen ankle.

Groaning, she sat up. It all came rushing back to her: the monster, falling through the iron gate, the light in the house and the voice from her dreams. Her head throbbed, already spinning as she struggled to piece everything together. Just sitting there in thought was nauseating. Her whole body ached—bruised, cut, and broken all over, but at least it no longer threatened to collapse at any moment from lack of sleep. Upon realizing the thin threads of positivity in her thoughts, she snorted. If she wasn't careful, she would turn into Ferne, always clinging to some feeble hope that the glass was half full.

"My glass is bone dry right now," Vera grumbled. Shakily, she hauled herself back onto the sofa, wincing in pain. "It's probably chipped, too."

Oblivious to her sour mood, bright afternoon sunlight streamed through the curtains, warm where it touched her skin. It cascaded in soft waves across the dirt-covered floors, which only made them look more sad. What had once been a beautiful polished tile, no doubt furnished with a pristine plush rug, was now reduced to a landing place for dust that drifted softly from the cracked ceiling. Only Vera's uneven footprints from the night before offered any sign of life. And yet, she was certain she had seen a light coming from the house the night before. A small white light, flickering and growing closer as it beckoned her inside. Come this way.

Or was that her dream?

She swallowed thickly and strained to reach her bag, desperate to focus on something else—something she knew she could understand. Though her memories were a little hazy, she was almost positive she had stuffed a small kit of medical supplies inside, now buried at the bottom of her bag. She rifled through an extra pair of clothes and some meager food and water supplies until the little white bag came in sight. Triumphantly, she pulled it out. Eileen and her mother had prepared several travel medical kits for Wyn and Silas when they went on hunting trips; sneaking one out of the cabinet had been child's play, but truthfully Vera had little concept of what it actually contained. She loosened the drawstring and opened the bag.