Black Stars - The Mors Mortis Trilogy Book 1

Chapter 28 - Reality

When you're not sure, flip a coin because while the coin is in the air, you realise which one you're actually hoping for. 

- Unknown 

The ring dropped Jared much closer to home this time and he took the hill towards his house with quick strides.

The air around him buzzed, coursing like live wires. Coming back to this world was always startling — like touching the tip of his tongue to a battery. Suddenly, he was alive again; raging and throbbing with energy.

Brenton had always claimed that people wouldn't notice that change when they transitioned properly, that their bodies and minds would attune to the dead world and that would be that. Jared had never heard an alternative argument, which had inadvertently solidified Brenton's theory as fact. Only recently had he begun to see it for what it was.

Simply that. A theory.

A sensible idea, but an unsupported one.

Sweat had accumulated on Jared's forehead by the time he reached his house and he rubbed it away harshly.

He wanted to scrape away this layer of himself, removing the uncertainty that had begun to overshadow everything. He wasn't supposed to be thinking like this. His life had been paved out from the moment he was born and it hadn't included an exit ramp. Brenton had made that clear enough last time he'd come home.

He jogged up the stairs to Brenton's study and knocked on the door quietly. When no one responded he turned the knob and cracked the door open, glancing inside.

"Hello?"

The room was empty, but he could tell Brenton had been there recently. The desk light was on and a pile of books lay on the polished wood, propped up as if about to be read. Jared slipped inside and slid into a chair opposite the desk, knowing he wouldn't have long to wait.

Distractedly, he pulled the top book over and examined the cover. It was a hardback collection of Greek myths about Hephaestus, the God of metallurgy and fire. Curious, Jared flipped the cover open, only to freeze at what he found in there.

There was a knife buried into the center of the book, the pages hollowed out to make room. The knife's handle was dark in colour and merged to a blade of swirling glass, faceted and deadly sharp.

Jared leaned closer, his eyes catching on a golden inscription carved into the base of the handle, his heart thumping.

Just as he reached for it, footsteps echoed from the corridor. Jared slammed the book closed and threw it back onto the pile, sitting back just as the study door opened and Brenton entered.

"Jared," Brenton said, his eyes flickering between his son and the books on the desk. "I didn't realise you'd return so soon."

Jared, having sprawled back in the chair and assumed a bored expression, shrugged.

"Leah's asleep," he said. "I wanted you to know that we're close to the whirlpools. She'll be back sometime tomorrow. We only have a few more days left of travel there."

Brenton moved behind the desk, sitting down with a sigh.

"Good. Thank you for letting me know."

Thank you.

That wasn't a word Jared heard often.

He examined his father suspiciously. The book still sat between them, it's contents a lead weight on his mind. He knew he shouldn't say anything. His place here had always been clearly defined – he knew what Brenton wanted him to know and nothing more.

"I didn't know you were interested in Greek mythology."

The words came out the way Jared had planned, the casual, drawling tone covering any obvious interest.

Brenton's mouth twitched minutely, and Jared had his answer. That knife was something he was never meant to have seen.

"Myths are often intended as lessons. Sometimes they can be helpful. Did you have a read?"

The question made something clench in Jared's gut, but he deflected the uncertainty from his eyes and pushed it somewhere deeper. Somewhere Brenton couldn't find.

"You know I don't like fiction."

Brenton watched him for a second longer, but then the tension dropped from his expression and he rose, carrying the book back to its shelf.

"All fiction has a basis in reality," Brenton said calmly. "You shouldn't be so quick to dismiss it."

Jared rolled his eyes and stood up. "If you say so. I should probably go, I just wanted to let you know that we'll be back soon."

Brenton nodded. "Make sure you come again before Leah comes through. I want to be ready."

Jared was already at the study door, his hand on the doorknob. "Of course."

"And Jared."

Jared paused and turned back.

Brenton was watching him in a way he'd never seen before, or at least, not in a way that had ever been directed at him. It was a hunter's gaze, cold and steady.

"You've done very well with Leah. I'm proud of you."

Jared froze, a violent burst of resentment coursing through him.

Thank you.

You've done well.

I'm proud of you.

All the words he hadn't heard in years.

Funny how they came spurting out the moment Brenton had stopped trusting him.

...

The moment Leah closed her eyes, she felt the past. It tugged at the hazy strings of her mind, scuttling forward until it consumed her. Suddenly, she was strapped to a table, her arm hooked up to an IV drip and her throat cracked and dry from overuse. The room was small, dark and bare; the table she lay on, an unconventional centerpiece.

And she was afraid. Terrified. Her whole body was scorched with horror.

Because she was about to die.

Even though she now knew what death entailed, her past fear overruled any rationality and her heart pounded like thunder.

Her memory told her that the machine she was attached to was the rebel's transportation device between the live and dead world; it told her that she'd dismissed the machines existence easily until now.

Her naivety would've been sobering if she hadn't already given up. Her life hadn't been hers to control for weeks. It had been theirs. It had been his.

Her neck tilted to the side, her eyes finding him one last time.

It was a face that made two worlds collide, so familiar she could map it out on the back of her eyelids. Brenton was there too, but she hardly noticed. Even though she knew they were equally to blame, he harboured the majority of her hate. He had been the one to destroy everything.

"I bet you're proud, aren't you?" she heard herself say. "Two Azemars in one month."

Something flashed through his eyes, but before she could identify it, he turned away.

If there actually is another world after this, she thought. I will find you.

And I will destroy you.

And then the tugging began, her screams ripping her vocal chords to shreds as her soul tore free from her chest.

...

Leah woke violently, fingers clawing at her chest as the aftershocks of her dream rocked through her system.

For a moment, she lay still, her surroundings forgotten as she recounted everything she'd just seen. The implication of her dream was dawning on her, slowly but surely. Cassandra had been right, Jared had known all along who had sent her to this world.

Because it had been him.