Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

15 | The Dungeon

Far beneath the earth, in a room of grey stone and iron bars, stood a boy. A bucket lingered in one corner of the small room. A rotten bed with filthy bedsheets lurked against the wall.

Fire-torches burned steadily.

His clothes and skin were covered in dirt.

His eyes, like black pools, strained to see in the firelight.

He reached through the iron bars.

He could sense her.

"Help me," he whispered, snatching at the air. "Please help me."

"Who are you? Where are you?" she asked, but found herself drifting down the corridor, away from him, passing more and more cells, until she rose up a long windowless staircase.

His voice followed her, pained, whispering tormented words.

The dream vanished.

Dashing across the room, she pulled a notebook and fountain pen from her dressing table drawer. She closed her eyes and tried to see his face again, but it faded, drifted away. She squeezed the pen tight and began to scribble.

She wrote four words.

The sun broke its cover from behind the Carcassus Mountains. It had been years since she had seen a sunrise, contented to sleep and dream instead. She'd forgotten how beautiful the Shadow Valley could be.

Natalia closed her notebook.

Her eyes colourless, shining orbs.

* * *

A knuckle rapped softly on the door. Sadie rolled over and looked at her sister's face.

"You awake?" said Natalia.

"I am now," Sadie replied, kicking back the bedclothes and rolling her shoulders. "Are you okay? Eli said you collapsed, and your eyes went...weird."

"Something happened," Natalia replied, clutching a white notebook. Her eyes looked normal. Emerald green, naive and confused. "I had a dream," she started. "A strange dream. I was in this prison, or maybe it was a dungeon. Cold and wet and dark. There was this small, dirty boy. I couldn't make out his face, but he spoke to me, calling out in a whisper. He said four words. I wrote them down." Natalia flipped through the pages in her notebook.

The dream sounded like the one Sadie had had about the Witch Tree in San Cristophe. A vision. A premonition. Something unnatural. "What words?"

"Here," Natalia said, flattening the notebook and pointing to her inky handwriting.

Danver Tomes. Hurtmore House.

Sadie frowned at them.

"He's your...friend, isn't he? I feel like I know him too, but in an odd way. He feels like one of those people you hear about in one of father's stories, but never actually meet. I have an idea of his face but it's—out of reach. Does that make sense?"

Natalia put a caring hand on her sister's arm.

Sadie's skin fizzed with static. Her mind exploded with images. Rolling onto her side, she curled herself into a ball, shaking like a frightened mouse.

"Sadie?" Natalia tried, kneeling beside her on the bed. "Sadie, are you okay? What's going on? Who is Danver Tomes?"

When Natalia said his name aloud, something burst through. Sadie felt her heart quicken, her stomach flip, her eyes fill with tears. Exploding like a show-stopping firework, his face returned to her.