The Arcanum

Chapter 1:Cold

By the time the silver whirlpool of light disappeared, we were in a different place from where we initially were. It was so cold that my teeth chattered and my hands were numb. Reflexively, I curled onto my side in the snow to preserve what little warmth I had left. Nevertheless, I felt the chill of the snow freezing my bones.

I tried to get up but regretted it immediately. My head pounded rhythmically and spots danced in front my eyes. I was certain that was from the impact of my head taking the brunt of the fall. My whole body weighed like a sack of stones.

Maybe it's better if we just lay here and wait for help, I thought drowsily. I snuggled in further into the snow.

Several minutes had passed till I realized someone was calling my name.

"...En...Ren...Karen!" I blinked blearily and saw Cam hovering over me, concern pinching his handsome features.

Why did he looked so worried? Can't he see that I'm fine?

I was vaguely aware of an out-of-body sensation. Trapped between the land of sleep and the land of consciousness, I drifted in an out of sleep. Cam cradled me in his arms while desperately searching for a place to seek shelter. I could feel his cold breath coming out in short puffs of air and noticed he was as weak as I felt.

Huh, that time-traveling trip must have took its toll on us, I thought wryly. A little sense snapped back into me as I realized our predicament.

"Cam...put me down..." I breathed haltingly. He shook his head vehemently, not letting me go even as I resisted feebly. I felt him stumble as he tripped in the snow sludge.

Despite my heavy-lidded eyes, I pried them open by sheer will. I saw a house less than a mile away. I willed Cam to take a few more steps. Fortunately, we were on the same wavelength. As soon as we arrived at the concrete house, our bodies sagged with relief. However, it seemed that our brief walk had sapped our energy. I could sense that it took a lot of effort for Cam to gather the strength to knock on the brass handle. He swayed on his feet.

Please, anybody, answer the door, I prayed fervently.

The door cracked open and I mentally whooped with joy. No sooner than I rejoiced, the ancient wooden floor beneath Cam crumbled and he leapt away instinctively but instead we fell backwards due to the slippery ice.

This is it, I thought resignedly. Closing my eyes, I awaited the painful collision with the hard floor. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was a man rushing out the door, hands outstretched.

I remembered the memories of that day; throwing a tantrum about not getting a chocolate cake for my birthday, my biological parents trying to abate my temper and failing miserably. I remembered that they finally acquiesced to my petty demands and gave me affectionate hugs and kisses before leaving to fetch my cake. And lastly, I remembered my aunt tearfully saying that I won't ever get to see them anymore and my ongoing hysterics. I remembered it all.

The white hot pain of a burning sensation roused me from my deep slumber. Eyelids fluttering, I thrashed under the covers unable to get rid of the last image of my parents. Someone restrained me and I felt the uncomfortable plunge of a syringe into my arm, leaving me slack jawed and breathing evenly.

Morning light streamed through the faded grey blinds, the room smelling faintly of chamomile and lavender. Chamomile was Cam's favorite scent.

Realization dawned on me. Cam! I blinked my eyes open only to see his head resting on my bed side. I caressed his tufts of blonde hair gently. Could it be that he kept watch over me until I woke up? I felt a pang of affection for my foster brother.He awoke, yawning sleepily. He noticed my small grin and hugged me..

"Oh,Karen, you idiot! You nearly scared me to death", he mumbled into my hair, trembling with fear or relief I could not tell. I hugged him back. I could not imagine how he felt when he lost his biological mother in a flash flood. After a while, he apparently came to grips with himself and let me go. I was relieved because it seemed that he was his usual self.

"Hey, you awake yet?" Queried a low male voice.

My gazed drifted to the door. Leaning against the jamb of a rickety door was a very handsome boy. I'd guessed that he was around the age of 19, a year my senior.

He looks like he'd be more at home on the cover of Men's weekly. Born with tousled jet black hair, he's sporting a woolen sweater that hugs his slim and lanky frame, boots polished to a glistening shine.

With the way his sharp black eyes regarded me curiously, I'd be lying if I said the way he's looking at me doesn't make me self conscious.