Chapter 2
The bathroom faucet had the most annoying drip.
Drip…drip…drip…over and over and over again. It was driving me crazy.
I have been stuck in the cabin, where Stephan had left me, for nine days now. And each morning I watch the sun rise through the barred window, is another morning where my sanity is coming to its end. If I thought my life with Marco and Sophia had been lonely, then I had no idea what lonely was. Because this was the mere definition of lonely.
There was nothing in the cabin besides a bathroom.
Stephan left a box of food, I guess, not wanting me to starve to death. He wanted me alive—he made that very clear. He just wanted my mind and emotions gone, which, if things kept going the way they were, would probably happen pretty quickly.
I wasn’t in that great of shape either. The spot where I hit my head on the rock, when Nicholas had shoved me down, constantly hurt, and I worried it might be getting infected.
There was also only one blanket in the cabin and I constantly had to keep it wrapped around me, otherwise, I would freeze to death.
It was the same thing every day for nine days straight. I sat there on the cold, hardwood floor, curled up in a blanket that smelled like dust and moth balls, and stared out at the snowy mountains that were decorated with marble-sized, lavender balls of Praesidium.
But on the ninth day I lost it.
I was lying on the floor tracing the cracks in the floorboards with my fingers, when I suddenly realized something. Before I knew what I was doing, I stood up and went over to the front door. I swung it open and, ignoring the blast of Arctic wind that smacked me in the face, I stepped out into the snow, barefoot and in shorts, with a blanket wrapped around my shoulders.
I wasn’t sure where I was going, or if I would even make it very far, but I knew I could not stay here and give up.
Stephan would not win. Either I would escape, or I would die trying.
I would not let the world end.
I started down the mountain, shivering, shaking, and chattering until my muscles felt like they were going to break. But I forced myself to keep going, keeping my eyes on the Praesidium as I walked , wishing desperately that the trail of lavender marbles would finally end so I could foresee my way back to Maryland.
But as the wind kicked up, and the air dipped even colder, I knew.
I was going to die.
There have been a few times in my life where I thought I died, but this was different. I had to be dead this time because all I could see was light—everywhere. Warm light.
I’ve been in a light vision before, and Nicholas had informed me that these kinds of visions meant my future was dead. So that meant I was dead right now, right?
Because all I could see was light.
“Gemma,” a voice whispered. “Can you hear me?” My body tensed. “Who is that?” I called out through the light.
“Come toward me?” the voice echoed.
I blinked, searching the light for someone, but I couldn’t tell what was up or down, or if I was even standing or sitting.
“I can’t see you,” I said. “The light’s too bright.”
“Yes, you can,” the voice assured me. “You just have to look harder.”
If the voice didn’t sound so unfamiliar, then I would have thought I was talking to Nicholas, because it seemed like something he would say. But this voice was much deeper and belonged to someone older.
So, not wanting to be difficult to a stranger, I blinked a few times, trying to “look harder.” Strangely enough, the light began to dim. Slowly at first, and then much quicker, until there was nothing left but a faint glow.
I could see now that I was lying on a midnight-blue marble floor, staring up at what looked like a cathedral ceiling. I got to my feet and examined myself over. My skin was its normal pale color and it appeared that the cold hadn’t frostbitten any of my toes or fingers.
“hello!” I called out, turning in a slow circle. The pale light fogged my surroundings, making it hard for me to see. But I could make out a row of columns on each side of me and a statue not too far off in front. I walked toward the statue, taking each step carefully, afraid that at any second someone—or something—was going to jump out from behind one of the columns.
I managed to make it to the statue unharmed, and without anyone jumping out at me. It was a statue of a man carved of white marble. There was something about the man’s face that looked familiar, but what had me puzzled even more was that in his hands was a crystal ball.
“What in the world,” I mumbled to myself. I leaned in to get a closer look at the plaque mounted at the statue’s feet.
My pulse quickened as I read the plaque: Julian Lucas.
Lucas? No. There was no way…Could this be a statue of my father?
I covered my mouth with my hands and started to back away.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a statue.”
I whirled around and then jumped back when I came face-to-face with a man that had a striking resemblance to the statue, only he was alive and breathing.
“Oh my God.” My voice trembled. I couldn’t believe it. His eyes…the color…violet. “Dad?”
He smiled. “hello, Gemma.”