A Breeding Darkness (Complete)

Epilogue

She awoke to the sound of rain on her window. She didn't want to get up, but she knew she should. The blankets were warm as she stretched her arms and yawned, opening her eyes to the gray light of a stormy day. They were all stormy. She didn't remember them ever not being filled with the dark clouds that crackled with lightning and soaked everything around her home. But then, she didn't really remember much of anything.

Turning over, she spun her legs off her bed and stood up, throwing on a robe and heading downstairs for breakfast. A woman whose face was not quite recognizable greeted her with a smile, kissing her cheek and offering her a bowl of porridge. It was always this way. A kiss, porridge, the same words and gestures. But she didn't mind. Caring about anything slipped from her mind as easily as water through a crack.

She ate the porridge and waited for him to appear. She watched the door, and soon enough there he was. A man dressed in furs and with his graying hair cropped short and his beard neatly trimmed. She smiled at him, feeling that hazy feeling of contentment and forgetfulness whenever he was near.

"Ah, my daughter is beautiful as always," he said, coming around to kiss her forehead. She wrapped her arms around him.

"And my papa is as handsome as always," she responded.

"Darling, your papa has something to tell you," the woman with the vague face said, her apron rustling as she set an orange on the table.

This was new. These words were new. Everything felt wrong. Off. This wasn't right.

She looked at Papa, her brows creased. "What's going on?"

"We're going to be going somewhere soon. Somewhere so very far from here. Somewhere that is evil and dark," Papa said.

"Why?"

Papa smiled, but it was as stormy as the sky outside. "I have unfinished business with someone there, and I need your help."

"You're going to be leaving in a few minutes," the vague woman said, her voice muffled and distant, like it always was. As if it was not truly there at all. "So make sure you listen to Papa when you go there."

"You're not coming?"

The woman smiled and shook her head. But it wasn't upsetting. Something about the woman never felt solid. Her airy smile always seemed to be something easily forgotten, and looking at her was hard to do for longer than a few seconds. It always felt as if she was a memory of a dream. But that was a silly idea. Of course she wasn't.

But then Papa took his attention off the woman, and he turned it on his daughter. He ruffled her dark curls and traced constellations in the freckles on her nose. He smiled. "Make sure to keep this safe," he said, tapping the side of her chest. She knew he was talking about the long scar that hid her glittering obsidian heart. One of her lungs was made of the same stuff. Papa had crafted them, though he didn't say why or how. But she knew they kept her alive, kept her going. And she knew to always make sure they were safe, hidden, secret.

"Of course, Papa."

"Let's go get you dressed, Lucy darling," Papa said, guiding her to the stairs. "Strana is a fashionable place, and we need to capture the attention of a very important young man."

Lucy nodded her head, determined to make Papa proud. Whatever he wanted, she would do. That's what she always did. Day after day. Make Papa proud. Make Papa proud.

Lucy would make Papa proud.

TO BE CONTINUED