spellbound | book #1 | completed

X X X V I I

[edited: 24/01/2018]

The first thing that Remy noticed was that everything was darker here; the buildings were made either of corroding grey brick or glass that was streaked with dust and dirt, and there was much fewer of them than in the centre of Astracia. She supposed that she had wandered into the outskirts, but she hadn't expected them to look so run down, so much like the buildings in her own world. She had never thought of Astracia to be anything less than perfect before now.

The people did not seem the same here, either. Many of them were dressed in darker clothes, though their hair and eyes were still brightly coloured. As Remy passed them, some eyed her suspiciously and she felt even more uncomfortable than before, knowing that they probably would not help her if she asked. She was on her own.

She began to retrace her steps then, but after a few minutes, she came to a fork in the road which trailed off into three different paths, each identical to the next, and she could not remember which one she had come from. She had been too lost in thoughts of Maksim, too lost in the pain in her chest and the anger in her heart, to have noticed. She didn't even remember leaving the house or passing through the centre of the city. She only remembered not being able to breathe, and somehow she had ended up here. The only sign that proved she had made her own way here at all was the dull ache in her ankles where her feet had collided too many times with the cobbles beneath her.

With a shaky exhale of breath, she squeezed her eyes shut and sat on the uneven ground, her back pressed against the wall of what looked to be an old house. She had meant to be looking for Sarah, but instead she had been too distraught to even know what she was doing. As usual, she had been impulsive and self-absorbed, and this was where it had gotten her.

She knew she had been out for more than a couple of hours, as the sky, which had been a pale pink when she had left, was now much darker. Remy supposed it was mid-afternoon, though she couldn't be sure. The air was thick with snowdust here so that she couldn't help but breathe it in. It stuck to her clothes and clung to her tangled hair as though it was trying to cover every inch of her until she turned white. She wished it would. She wished she could disappear into it. 

A voice broke her out of her thoughts, causing her to start.

"Remy?"

It was Maksim, covered in snowdust and dressed in black. She had never seen him wear black before. It made his eyes appear more blue, his hair more red, as though he was a cartoon character. He was frowning worriedly down at her.

She wasn't sure what to say; seeing him only brought back her anger and hurt again, though relief seemed to drown the emotions out ever so slightly. She wasn't lost anymore.

"How did you find me?" she questioned, her voice dull. She didn't have the energy to sound upset or shocked, though she might have felt that way. "Did you follow me here?"

"I..." he trailed off as though he didn't know the answer, and then regained his composure. "I used a tracking spell. I was worried about you." He didn't sound worried; he sounded mechanical, as though he was saying the things he thought he should rather than the things he wanted to.

"You shouldn't be." She sniffed and stood up, wiping her jeans down from the dirt. "I'm fine."

"You do not look fine. You have been crying." He stepped towards her and reached out his hand as though to touch her cheek, but she flinched away immediately.

"Don't touch me," she whispered and pulled her jacket closer to her body as though it might protect her from the pain he always seemed to bring with him. Still, she couldn't help but look at him curiously. Something was different about him, but she couldn't put her finger on what.

He sighed and drew his hand away with a roll of his eyes. "There is no need to be so dramatic. You know that I did not mean what I said to you before."

"You never do mean it, yet you say it anyway." She looked at him as blankly as she could. "Just show me the way back. I'm tired of your games."

She began to walk away, but was stopped not a second later when he grabbed her tightly by the wrist—so tightly that she yelped in surprise—and pulled her back. His face was only inches from hers now, and he looked down at her with eyes that glittered, reminding her of somebody else's, though she couldn't quite remember whose.

It was then that she realised: they were not Maksim's eyes at all. They were blue, but they were not his blue. They did not have their silver flecks, and his pupils were so dilated that they took up more space than the iris.

She gulped and frowned in confusion. "You're hurting me."

His grip loosened ever so slightly and his expression softened, but it seemed as though it was more of a pretence than anything else. He did not care if he was hurting her. Not as he had seemed to this morning, beneath his façade of sarcasm and ice. "I am sorry. I just cannot let you go, not when you are still angry with me. Please forgive me, Remy."

"Let go of me and I'll consider it," she said through gritted teeth, for his clasp had tightened again, this time so hard that she was worried her wrist might break.

She knew for certain it was not him then. His expression was full of the promise of danger, as though he might be willing to tear her into pieces if he had to. Maksim was many things, but he was not harmful. He would never hurt her physically.

Without thinking, she swung her free hand at his face. He let her go, clutching his cheek in shock, and she wasted no time in running away from him. She did not get very far, though. A second later, he had her pinned against a wall by her shoulders, and a cold jolt went through her until she could barely move. She had no doubt that it was magic.

His pupils were completely black now.

"I did not realise that your relationship with my brother was so physical," he grinned as she writhed under his grip. Maksim's face was morphing into someone else's, someone with messy stubble and harsh features. She had known as soon as he had spoken that it was Ackmard beneath the too-perfect mask. The gradual change in appearance was hardly a surprise. "Or perhaps you are a little too clever to fool. My mistake, though I suppose I have still gotten what I want. I always do."

"If you want the key, take it," she dared him, feeling the metal burning her skin as though reminding her that it was there, ready to protect her. 

"I have tried that once before. I am not idiotic enough to try again."

"You could have fooled me. What do you want?" She gasped as another shock of cold went through her, the stench of sulphur choking her as clouds of blackness surrounded the two of them. Dark magic. 

He smiled then, as though he had been waiting for her to ask such a question. "You," he said before a final, painful flash shot through her body and she felt herself falling to the floor.

The darkness found her before his arms did, and she was thankful, at least, for that, for it was far warmer, far more inviting, than him.