Ruby Shadows

Ruby

My lungs hitched at the realization of where I was. I shoved a branch out of the way and ducked beneath another as I walked into the clearing, a wasteland of a world I was once a part of. The Victorian home atop a broad staircase stood in dismay in front of the rising sun. Its stones upturned by the wolves of the past and a decade without repair, Ruby packhouse stood in continuous glory amongst a mass grave of family and friends. Their bones sunk into the soil and disappeared – a burial ground without headstones. Shattered windows and dislodged doors stood in my way yet my feet moved without permission. I needed to assure my brain the image in front of me wasn't a mirage, a painting of hope. Mental anguish burned inside me, searing the nerves in my head to the point of not knowing what stood in front of my eyes. I froze in my tracks, mid-way to the house in the clearing as a tear trickled down my cheek, frozen in the late-autumn air.

It couldn't be real. Ruby packhouse couldn't stand in front of me; I didn't watch it burn to the ground but Peter said the entirety of the grounds were left as ash in the soil. Sobs erupted from my throat as I hit the ground, my knees dug into the dirt. I lifted my eyes to the early morning sky with tears clouding whatever vision I had left. My hands held the sides of my face as cries escaped into the sky. Without another soul around my voice spread freely without the risk of retaliation from a Mercenary hell-bent on suppressing my voice.

You need to get inside. A voice sounded in my head; bright, bell-like. I fell back, landing on my backside as I focused on the inside of my head where the sound came from. Go, L. It urged me forward. The voice didn't belong to my wolf. She vanished a few years into my imprisonment with Peter. Her already weak state quickened her disappearance leaving me as nothing more than a human amid Lycans angered by my apparent treason. He convinced me the Ruby massacre was my fault. I caused this – the mass grave where my family lay in an eternal slumber.

Before I answered, I shuffled to my feet and took off toward the packhouse, refusing to look to where I emerged from the trees. I didn't need to trust the voice in my head or even understand why it was there but it knew my fears. It knew the sun was coming and refused to allow me to die by blinding sunlight. My lungs clenched against my refusal to allow air to pass through my nose and mouth as I moved quickly toward the giant, rundown house. The old, broken stones sharpened as I got closer. The damage to the building focused, revealing much more than cosmetic. It was worse. My home lay in ruin; vines trailed up the sides of the house in a thick green blanket of living cords pulled loosely around windows and gutters hanging off the side of the roof. Shingles flapped, their attachment to the top of the house was nothing more than a staple or two, ready to give way with one more storm or furious wind.

Shaking the wandering thoughts from my brain, I ascended the near-rotted stairs in front of the house, careful to avoid weak, soggy spots with standing water. Cracks, holes, and rotted wood stood out in front of me with a welcoming grip with a gift of tetanus and infection. The chattering of animals under the deck, whether they be raccoons or squirrels, chimed in my ears but quickly quieted as the creaky steps sounded my entrance. I invaded their home but I lived here first. As I reached the door, I held out the palm of my hand and pressed gently to the worn set of double doors coated in peeling red paint and a splash of dried blood, tattered away by a decade of abuse and abandonment. I paused, my skin flush with the door and I looked back at the empty field. A yellow-green ocean of grass waved back at me. An azure sea of flowers danced through the green. Orange leaves bounced by without anywhere to go except forward. Empty wind, void of noise other than the rustling of trees played along with my breathing.

I was alone, at least for now. Upon nightfall, I couldn't imagine what horrors lay beyond the house. Even now I couldn't shake the feeling of eyes on me from beyond the tree line. A poking sensation at the back of my head made me turn around several times in case I caught sight of a shuffling form far off in the woods.

I shoved through the doors to a breath of musty carpet and mold. My throat erupted in vicious coughs as dust sucked down into my esophagus. Tiny particles danced around me and above near a large skylight, broken by a large branch atop the roof. It hung, swaying on the edge of the window, threatening to cave itself and the ceiling with it. My eyes darted around to the entry hall. The once fierce paintings of Ruby's leaders hung in disgrace, claw marks adorning each of them as if the person who attacked did so out of revenge. Bones, either animal or human, were nearly hidden in the shadows but the bright white figures caught my eye against the dull surroundings only lit by the gentle stream of morning light.

The sun continued rising into the sky with thick rays of violent golden light. The blue above my head brightened with each passing minute, threatening to burn my skin into oblivion. Shadows in the room shrunk and I was left with only two doors to escape into, and I chose the right one, the one with hinges still tight on the frame.

I barged through the door into a small closet overrun by mildew and clouds of dust. Coats hung by strings on their hangers, and the rod across the wall deteriorated with rust. Realizing I had no other choice, I shut the door. Without hesitation, all light vanished from the room and I was engulfed in pitch blackness, the same color of my cell with Peter. But unlike that cell, this one didn't have a lock. Or a mercenary on the other side waiting for me to scream. 

(1/23/2022)