The Queen's Curse: Koylock Chronicles Book One

By A Claire

‘A child lost in war and plunder, will rise above and do all wonder.’

‘Four knights lost and behead, will open up the path ahead.’

‘Five children to come forth and fight, one to lose themselves in might.’

‘Seek the woman who is cursed, find and destroy the

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. Claire
• Release date: Apr 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9780648554318

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THE QUEEN’S CURSE

KEYLOCK CHRONICLES: BOOK ONE

A. Claire

© 2019 A. Claire

978-0-6485543-1-8

Cover Art by Jaka Prawira

Copyedited by Erica Farner

Typset by Peggy Florence Cao

To all those who never gave up on me.

This is for you.

PROLOGUE

In this world, sound is banished.

One great war silenced abundances of trees, animals, and magical beasts alike.

The land was petrified and empty.

The only beasts that wander are vicious creatures—they watch and soar the skies of its bare terrain. In the distance of grassy terrain is a castle that once held wonders. A cobblestone building that stood still, tall and proud. The walls echoed with voices and faint whispering.

The moat is no longer filled with water; it’s filled with scattered identification that proved its purpose at one point in time—old fishing lines and wicker baskets. Upon entering the building’s desecrate market, there is still residual energy of the people who bargained for goods, the conversations shared and stories told. It was once a truly lively place that a royal family once ruled over.

Now it stands still, with broken signs and destroyed stalls; any trace of what was vanished.

Those who concentrate carefully can almost smell the sweet scents and feel the lavish coats that had been exchanged, the movement that was there before.

Above this marketplace is a room, where the King and Queen of Koylock once stood watch from their elegant balcony, alongside a son and two daughters.

Just a decade ago, the Beaumont family notoriously ruled the kingdom of Koylock.

King Alfonse and Queen Elestria served their own kingdom in battle, both ruthless fighters. Even as the war raged on, the kingdom wept as their beloved King and Queen passed, thus leaving the throne to the next heir, Prince Aghon.

For another five years, the war against unimaginable evil raged on, and not one soldier laid eyes on the ruler of the opposing forces.

He was rumoured to be a beast with one thousand teeth; and sometimes, a simple man who knew how to hide—a traitor and a coward.

War does unimaginable things to those who serve throughout it.

It was only so long before those residing inside the castle were possessed and turned to a life of crime and deception.

Men and women began looting those in the castle, and Prince Aghon was constantly being betrayed. His servants had become too distracted by the war and desolation around them, as it began to unravel vastly.

It took one year of constant battle before the Prince was assassinated inside his own castle walls.

After his murder, the royal assets were handed down to the second eldest Beaumont child, Genevieve. There are stories of her presence around the time of Aghon’s death. She seemed distant and crude, different from her sweet, elegant self.

Genevieve surrendered her kingdom to nothing; she had given up on the throne. A curse was cast over Koylock Castle, and those who continued to serve Queen Genevieve began their awful transition from human to creatures of the night.

Men became beasts with ghoulish teeth; women and children became slimy animals. Koylock fell into a deep depression, as more and more civilians became monsters.

The remaining Beaumont child, Kayrella, was nowhere to be found in these grave times. But some say that, if you listened carefully on a chilly winter night, you could still hear her sweet song. It echoed off walls and made its way through empty houses. Hope momentarily made its way throughout a desecrate kingdom that once lived peacefully.

The last Princess stood by her sister as she wed the Prince of Oxian. He was an older man from the far west, and simply dismissed the war as if it was nothing. They married on a cold day; only a small handful of people showed to see their Queen give up half of the Beaumont family’s riches. The derived Prince, now a King, only focused on what he desired. He did not care for the people he ruled or his wife. He simply longed for fine dining and brilliant gold.

The new King of Koylock had fallen in battle two months later, a disgusting man who took advantage of a barren wasteland to take it for his own.

Queen Genevieve had taken the throne ever since. Princess Kayrella was unable to help those around her, nor was she able to keep safe in her own home. It was only a short amount of time before the Princess had gone quiet, lost in the bleak castle walls.

The great depression brought the kingdom to its feet as any sign of happiness was whisked away.

The land was destroyed, but its magnificent castle stood.

With the light of its kingdom gone, and a Queen pulled to madness, there was no hope for its once fruitful lands—the Gods had betrayed them all.

Many asked, where had the magical monsters and warriors of light vanished to? The great man or woman who fell through the heavens to help those in need?

They existed—five brave souls who threw themselves into battle against giant beasts and wavering spirits of evil.

In the past, five sons and daughters of magical gods were worshipped.

Each deity had been closely allied with the Beaumont family and the royals surrounding their kingdom. These young adults had been chosen by the Gods every millennium—three men and two women with unspeakable powers to protect and serve.

A beautiful woman was always chosen to become a Daughter of Enix.

She wielded her god’s spear of protection and was known to be kind to everyone and everything.

Although, she occasionally allowed this benevolence and kindness to affect her in battle.

A brute, bulky man was chosen to be the Son of Itoi; he wielded his great axe with obnoxious pride and witty remarks, just as the God of Strength intended.

Two powerful gauntlets were given to the Son of Eden.

They allowed him to destroy walls of enemies, a perfect trait for the God of Power. He would destroy seas of evil with a cocky smirk and a fist of fury.

Not only did he have the strength, but he was also known to be very handsome and close to the Daughter of Enix. The two were almost inseparable as they walked through the gardens of multiple kingdoms. With elegance and bravery bestowed to the Daughter of Mave, there was not one enemy she was unable to strike down with her bow.

Mave was the God of Madness, and his powers showed their true colours through tight battles. The daughter chosen had often been described as a flurry of arrows faster than the eye could see.

The final god, Rao, was feared.

His power was raw destruction, which could destroy any land with a click of a finger; those who were unlucky enough to experience his unforgivable talents had images of death imprinted into their minds for years.

Although the host he had chosen was often a kind soul, the sheer, ruthless power engraved into him resulted in frightened townsfolk from afar and beyond.

Most who were chosen to be the Son of Rao had been lonely and sorrowful of himself and his powers.

His sister was commonly chosen to become a Daughter of Mave, which led him to believe her fall in any battle was his own fault.

One by one after his sister’s death, the last Son of Rao watched his comrades die on the battlefield.

And as the war came to an end, his focus did, too.

Those who lived to see the end of his wrath had described his death as horrendous. He was pierced by an iron giant’s enormous sword on the battlefield, and Rao had become furious at his chosen son’s death, destroying everything and everyone in his line of sight who battled that day.

The ruler of Koylock had become corrupted, a curse was not lifted, and five gods had been defeated by an unknown force of regenerating evil—hope was scarce throughout the land.

Queen Genevieve began her fall deeper into madness every coming day.

Now she sat upon her throne, her index finger tapping gently against its metal armrest. The sound began to echo over homes left empty, through the broken town and evergreen woods outside its vanity.

To the beasts pricking ears in dark canyons, it even travelled to ears of those who knew nothing of the kingdom’s existence.

Genevieve’s fingernail continues its ongoing rhythm, the sound imitating that of a dripping faucet in a lonely dorm room on Earth.

It echoes throughout dirty pipes of a large college estate, until the sound becomes an annoyance to one young adult in particular.

Asleep in her bed, she tosses and turns and creases her brow at the sound, until it becomes much louder. Almost like the striking drums of war.

CHAPTER 1

SETH

For three months, Seth Grey had constant nightmares.

The roaring thump was dormant in her earlobes, louder now with an eerie whine.

Every second of silence was pure bliss before it returned. Her conscience stirred until it all became unbearable.

Both of her eyes split open, and she leaned up in her bed—fast.

Finally, the beating ceased.

The young woman sighed relief; this was not the only time she had heard this rhythm.

Every night now, she woke in a cold sweat. It seemed her recurring dreams had taken a liking to early mornings.

Sometimes, they were murky and distant; sometimes, crystal clear. Glistening images of another world filled with monsters and castles, Seth wondered if she had these dreams because of a certain television show she binge-watched a few weeks prior.

But they consisted of other things, unearthly things. Large, vast mountains surrounded by green hills, with a flowing stream cut throughout the middle of them, and an enormous mountaintop looming over.

When Seth saw this mountaintop in her dreams—even if it was one hazy image—it frightened her. Whatever was happening atop that dark and gloomy hill had clearly been important, but why her nightmares had showed her this, Seth had no clue.

She recalled seeing a beautiful girl with sandy brown hair, though her face was blurry and unclear. Though, the most bizarre dreams she had were the ones that felt less like nightmares, and more like a trance. They weren’t frightening and did not jolt her awake; they were almost warm and comfortable, as if someone had her in a tight embrace.

At first, Seth imagined her deceased mother, holding onto her and humming a lullaby, but the more she concentrated on her dream, the more she realised it was another woman’s voice.

She spoke softly and calmly, yet there seemed to be a faint urgency in her tone. Seth could only recall two phrases: ‘Great prophecy,’ and ‘disaster.’

Both gave Seth an uneasy feeling when she awoke, and the same feeling returned whenever she had that exact recurring series of images.

Seth would rather that dream than any other she’d been having.

Out of all of them, it scared her the least.

Whatever these two phrases meant, it was hard to understand why she would be hearing them. She was a college student, struggling to maintain a job and a social life. Maybe that’s what the persistent use of the word disaster meant.

And if magic and monsters existed in the real world the same way they existed in her dreams, she would be a lousy addition to a great prophecy.

Seth sighed and glanced to her alarm clock; she grimaced. As she rose out of bed, she stretched her neck, which was tense and full of knots.

The room was dark and cold; moonlight was the only source of light.

Seth reached for her bedside lamp and turned it on, its light bright and blinding. A groan escaped her lips as she covered her eyes with her hands. She sat in silence, not eager to wake up entirely. The warmth in her bed became lukewarm, as did her body.

She shivered and let the ends of her hair tickle at her face; Seth scrunched her nose. She’d like to say she was used to the disrupted sleep, but she definitely wasn’t.

Four hours wasn’t enough for a full-time University student who worked part-time and trained in mixed martial arts.

Not only were these dreams affecting her social aspects of life and workload, but they were making her sluggish and moody as well.

Seth pulled herself up and stumbled towards the bathroom, her bare feet absolutely freezing by the time she reached it.

The cold tiles did not help. She tried to tip-toe towards the bathroom mirror.

It was awfully hard to not hit her head on the hanging light, as she was very tall, standing at 6’2’.

She loomed over people, and she had no problem with this—it made her look tough in her fights.

Seth flattened the pads of her feet, clutching the sink sides exhaustedly.

Her hand clawed at the back of her neck, scratching under long locks of black hair. She heaved a sigh. There were so many questions she hadn’t received one answer for, she wondered who she could even ask. She could ask the small handful of friends she had, but they’d tell her to distance the dreams as stress, or laugh right in her face about it.

But she was sure it was something else entirely.

Now, Seth’s eyes struggled to stay open above her the bathroom light flickers.

The room was eerily quiet, except for the rain and faint thunder grumbles from outside. The feeling of emptiness loomed over her, and her heart sank. It dawned on her that the thoughts would be there for a long time until answered.

But her reflection in a grimy mirror wouldn’t be the one to tell her what she wanted, so she decided to try and sleep again.

Darkness enshrouded her bedroom as she grumpily dragged her feet against the wool carpet. Scratching under her shirt and yawning loudly, she slumped face-first onto cold pillows.

Seth inhaled and exhaled deeply, turning her head to check the time again. Her eyes fixated along the alarm clock’s digits, and as the seconds passed by, her eyes slowly drooped.

§

Septembers were cold and muggy in Beckton.

Rain fell heavily over dirty dorm room windows and rocky pavements of Providence College, drenching the courtyard surrounding multiple Gothic technical buildings. The school was built upon a dense hill; it was only natural for the falling rain to leave it sopping wet.

Early Wednesday mornings started off slow for Seth. She woke in the same position she had previously fallen, her eyes adjusting to the light.

After she’d pulled her aching body up from her comfortable bedding, she simply sat on the sidelines, her back arched downwards.

She was tired and grumpy, as many students would be after a sleepless night hearing sounds that wouldn’t cease.

After she cracked the bones in her long fingers and tense neck, she found the nearest pair of jeans and shirt to slip into, then cleaned herself up to look presentable.

She was slow to do these everyday chores; she always has been.

Yet, she’d learned to take care of herself—after being without parents for twelve years, it was only mandatory.

Seth grimaced as she pulled her sweatshirt over her head and focused on the two faces in her mind, distant memories.

Her parents were kind and caring; she was closest to her mother. She and her father had always been distant, but only because of his awful workload. But he usually made up for it once he came home, with two delicacies from the nearby bakery.

Seth paused and felt the sides of her lips curl. She could almost taste those strawberry shortcakes in her mouth.

Her father, Timothy Grey, had worked in construction.

He built enormous city buildings and small complexes along the East Coast. He made a great amount to support his family, so his wife, Melinda, worked from home as an accountant.

On days like this, Seth found it hard to not remember the chilling moment she learned her father would never come home.

The weather was wet and dreary; roads were backed up with cars, and angry horns could be heard all over town.

Most who saw this traffic would think it was a normal wet day situation, but in reality, something larger was at hand—something that a younger Seth couldn’t understand at the moment it happened.

Her father’s life was short-lived, and his wife fell into a great depression soon after.

The thought of her mother’s brown eyes becoming a dark and gloomy abyss sent awful shivers down Seth’s neck and back.

Her mother had given up on her priorities, and she pried her sanity from herself each day.

Until one day, there wasn’t one particle of strength left.

Seth’s back straightened as the memories flooded into her mind, and with one tight blink, she decided to try and forget them for the hundredth time.

Some memories were better left unthought-of.

Seth sniffled and began brushing her long hair over an overcrowded bathroom tabletop; she grabbed her toothbrush as she combed.

With the stick held in her mouth, she buttoned up her jeans with her free hand, then pulled her hair back into a tight ponytail.

It only took her a few moments to clean herself up, grab her backpack, and sling it over her shoulder.

She paused at her kitchen and scrambled through the fridge, then grumbled to herself.

After finding whatever fruit was left unspoiled, she locked up her room.

She began her walk to class very slowly, crunching into her apple with a grunt and passing by multiple room doors.

Behind them were either bustling, or fast asleep students. Seth blinked tiredly; she wished she could be in bed again rather than going to some boring lecture she was definitely late to.

Outside, the rain became heavier, the sky became greyer, and the sun was hidden inside the darkest cloud of them all. Shadows loomed over as she jogged through the dorm-room courtyard towards a dark red building a few hundred feet away.

It was called the Lemor Building, and it held most of Seth’s boring classes. She couldn’t deny enjoying only one particular class out of the four on her timetable—Mythology.

Knowing about the Norse Gods already gave her an awesome head start, even if she learned half of it from Wikipedia. It was the only class she could relax in.

Relaxation. Seth grimaced at the thought of it; the non-stop full day ahead was on her bustling mind. First, classes all day; second would be her late afternoon shift at the Rise and Grind—a little coffee shop smack bang in the middle of Beckton Marketplace. Great coffee; awful owner.

Finally, her night would end with closing the café doors and driving past a spooky graveyard that was just across the road from her usual gym she worked out at.

Seth heaved a heavy sigh once she had reached Lemor, pushing heavy glass doors open. Thankfully, it was heated inside.

She stepped into a dark and warm lecture room, with late written all over her. Her teacher’s eyes scanned over her once, but he continued droning on, not caring to pause his talk.

Seth passed whispering teenagers—some nose-deep in notes, some snoozing off from boredom. She could see herself doing the same, except with her head buckled back against a stiff seat. It wouldn’t the first time.

She scanned over the seating and spotted another girl from the far left, beckoning her.

Recognising Faith Evans, her sister, she stepped down quietly towards the row of seats where her sister sat. After sneaking through a line of tired students, she took her seat quietly.

Faith grabbed her arm, squeezing it lightly.

‘Late,’ she teased quietly. ‘As always.’

Seth rolled her eyes. ‘Give me a break; I was…’ She paused, collecting her words. ‘Studying all night.’

Explaining the real reason for her lateness would be reckless, and just cause her sister to stress. ‘You’re an awful liar,’ Faith said, smiling shortly. ‘Always have been.’

Seth leaned forward in her seat, shrugging her shoulders. That was true. Lying to her sister was unfortunately something she had been doing a lot lately; there was just so much she couldn’t put into truthful words without sounding crazy.

From beside her, she could hear her sister stifle a laugh through her nose, mocking her playfully.

Faith had always been a younger sister figure to Seth, even before the Evans family had adopted her. The memories returned to Seth like an electric jolt. She recalled a dark room with marble floors, and large columns holding up the scary, old ceiling.

Big piles of papers, and lots of old men in suits signing them.

One man in particular sat at an oak desk, stamping and mumbling words that Seth definitely wasn’t listening to as a child, yet she knew she was being handed over to another family; that much was clear.

She was eight years old and stood between two sets of legs—Annabelle Evans and her husband, Michael.

Both adults had their hands gripped tightly over Seth’s shoulders, yet she recalled Annabelle’s touch being much softer, her thumb stroking back and forth.

Their families had been close since she could remember, and knowing Seth’s family was already so small to begin with, it was only natural for the Evans family to bring her in as their own.

They allowed Seth to keep her father’s surname. She liked it that way.

Seth lived a different life after her parents’ death, but was able to experience having a sibling. She had watched Faith grow up next to her, into an independent nineteen-year-old with a bit of attitude. It suited her.

Faith was smarter than her sister—she cared about her grades and cleaned her room back at home, and also at college. When teased to do the same, Seth would argue that she was a year older, and that gave her the right to be lazier.

Seth was nudged out of her thoughts. She brought her attention back to Faith.

‘You going to tell me why you were actually up all night?’ she asked, shooting a stern look with those big green eyes of hers.

Seth glanced at them once before scrunching her nose; she had to remind herself that avoiding questions from her sister was inevitable.

Seth shifted in her seat and tensed her neck, blowing a loose strand of hair from the side of her nose.

‘I couldn’t sleep. That’s all,’ she replied, hoping Faith would drop it.

Getting her to spill the beans about this particular issue was going to take a lot of effort. This lie had to be bottled up, and frankly, she’d like to keep it sealed away for good.

She noticed as Faith pulled a frustrated face. She knew there was more to it all.

Momentarily, Seth imagined her sister’s reaction if she was to tell her of the real reasoning behind her exhaustion.

Something told her Faith would erupt into laughter before even considering it was affecting her.

Surprisingly, Faith did drop the topic. But Seth knew it would rise up again very soon.

Closing her eyes, she leaned her head back and took a deep breath. And she was fast asleep before she even realised it.

A scene flashed before her, like an old television that needed a good kick to show the image normally. Finally, after a few static images of trees and cut wood by a fire, she found herself watching closely as a forest came to view.

Its dark and secluded, with large oak trees covering every opening into evergreen bushland. This was just a dream, but being aware inside of it made her wonder. She could tell she wasn’t there. Well, not physically.

She could hear and see the trees as they moved; the birds screeched and skittered—yet she could not smell anything or feel any of its movement.

She simply tried to focus and watched as someone—or something—controlled every image that flickered by. A large house popped into view, as if someone had changed the channel. Its size was a sight for sore eyes: a dark colonial brick building that loomed over a large dying garden.

She could see the soil petrified and ripped apart, like someone had dug holes in search of something missing.

She had a feeling the house hadn’t been there before, being smack bang in the middle of forest clearing, like it had appeared recently.

The house was dark and gloomy, and it made her feel uneasy by just looking at it, even if she wasn’t the one walking towards it.

The scene changed to a young adult hunched over a crowded tabletop.

Seth heard him muttering to himself, his long fingers tinkering with an object.

She couldn’t get a good look at what it was; she only identified the shape of it—a tall cylinder that his hands held tightly around.

From what she could see, he looked tired and ragged. He wore shaggy black pants and a dirty white shirt. He had a mop of dark brown hair, long to his neck, and a beard that needed a good trim.

It was evident by his state that the object in his hands held a great significance.

He turned his head to examine a parchment aside him, and his face was crinkled with worry. A large scar ran down from the end of his right brow down to the tip of his left cheekbone.

By his tanned skin and structured jawline, Seth could tell he was Middle-Eastern.

He picked a pen up with his left hand and began scribbling words and small illustrations.

She noticed his fingers tremble, and his brown eyes—already so tired—began to flutter. He was still for a moment, and his hand stopped shaking. Seth was certain he was asleep, until he began murmuring words under his breath.

These words didn’t sound like English—or any language Seth had heard before. Some syllables ended with an accent that reminded her of French, but just slightly.

He was in a trance now, and his fingers began to wobble over the parchment.

Whatever he was doing, the way his brow creased in concentration hinted this was not the first attempt.

Suddenly, like tiny fireworks, his fingertips began to spark shades of blue and gold. The colours began twirling off his skin, across and into the paper like licking lights.

Seth was amazed she was seeing this. Even if it was only a dream, this had to be real magic, or a really good illusion.

Yet, the magic man himself seemed aggravated as the lights died with one wave of his hand, and his eyes flung open angrily. He cursed loudly in the same language, smacked the parchment with his fist, and threw his pen across the room from where he sat.

The room became silent, and the dream screen flickered like pins and needles. The last image began to falter in and out of focus.

He sighed deeply, brushing his hands against the unclear object once again. His eyebrows softened and he mumbled in English now.

‘One day, Princess…’ he said.

The dream faded to white, and Seth was hit with an awful pain. Like she’d fallen twenty feet from the sky and smacked into hard concrete.

All the dream images began to change drastically, like someone was flicking a light switch back and forth. She can see it all pass by, like fast cars. Ahead she spotted a dark shadow, surrounded by clusters of memories that weren’t her own, it gains more speed, finally crashing right into her.

Seth awoke quickly her knees kicking up in her lecture seat.

The stabbing pain still hammered behind her eyes, even when she blinked. She took her head between her hands, adding pressure to where it hurt the most. A hand took her shoulder, fingers rubbing back and forth.

‘You okay?’ Faith asked. ‘You’re sweating.’

Seth balanced herself, sighing through clenched teeth. The pain began to soften as she relaxed her head against her seat. Another dream, with even crazier images than the others. They were getting clearer and way more confusing every time she shut her eyes.

Now there was another person flooding her brain—a man who could make homemade fireworks from his fingertips.

‘Yeah, just a bad headache all of a sudden.’ Seth squinted her eyes open and glanced to Faith, who seemed concerned by her sister’s jolted awakening.

Seth stared at her lecturer as he concluded his speech and began to pack up; so did the students surrounding her.

Faith’s eyebrows twitched a little; rubbing her sister’s shoulder, she said, ‘Seth, you should get some rest… at least something to eat?’ She let go and sat up to grab her bag.

‘No,’ Seth protested. ‘I’m fine.’ She rose and rubbed her temples again.

They both made their way out of the room, dodging rushing students. Before Seth could escape, Faith stopped her in the hallway.

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I’m worried about you.’

Seth rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t have to be,’ she replied.

‘Seth,’ Faith began her lecture, ‘you’ve been much more tired than usual, and I’m not the only one that’s noticed. Abby and Mom…’

Seth flinched at one spoken name, but she only crossed her arms and sighed again. There was nothing worse than being informed that someone else was worrying about her. Her problems were her problems—simple as that.

Seth looked at her sister, focusing on anything but her eyes.

Her long, dark brown locks had been pulled to one side, and the ends of her hair were slightly sticking up due to the muggy weather; it seemed to bother Faith, as she constantly tried flattening them. ‘Hey,’ Faith said. With one click of her fingers, Seth’s attention was brought back. She blinked and locked eyes with her sister again, grouching.

Students and faculty wandered around them, rushing through the Lemur Building to get to their destinations. Between them, silence.

Seth could tell there were multiple questions running through Faith’s brain, and she was biting her tongue to stop herself from asking. Her sister’s scowl softened, and she took a deep breath.

‘Seth, I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘Can’t I be worried?’

Guilt rose in Seth’s chest, and she felt her ears redden. Faith’s tone was full of concern. It almost made Seth fall to her knees and pour out everything.

Yet, something stopped her. It wasn’t right to explain to Faith now, not until she could understand it a little better herself. ‘Yeah.’ She nodded reluctantly.

Faith combed her fingers through her hair nervously, trying to win the battle with the ends of her hair again. ‘I’m your sister, right?’ she asked.

Seth found the perfect moment to be sarcastic, ‘Well…’

Faith punched her in the gut, which didn’t hurt one bit due to her muscle. ‘Seth!’ she cried.

Seth laughed gently as she rubbed her stomach. ‘Yes,’ she muttered. ‘You are my sister.’

It was getting colder by the second, and Seth could feel it creeping up behind her neck; that, or the tiny guilt trip she was receiving was making every hair stand up.

Faith crossed her arms. ‘And I’m allowed to care about you, right?’ she asked. ‘And you’re going to let me help you, right?’

Seth was the one biting her tongue now. She inhaled sharply through her nose. She wasn’t sure anyone could help her right now.

Faith was awaiting an answer. She had this tough look on her face that reminded Seth of a cute hamster.

She took another deep breath and exhaled. ‘Yeah, if I need your help’—she sighed—‘I’ll make sure to talk to you.’

It was what Faith wanted to hear, judging by the victorious little smile on her lips.

‘But I can take care of myself,’ Seth mumbled. ‘You know this, Faith. I promise I’ll be okay.’ Faith was pouting now. She pocketed her hands in her warm aviator jacket. Seth watched her twist her bottom lip and finally shrug. ‘You better be,’ she said, ‘or I’ll beat you up.’

Seth didn’t argue; she only smiled and readjusted her backpack over her shoulder. She had another class to attend to and wanted to make it on time just so she could skip the angry glare from her teacher.

Faith caught the hint and waved her hand a little. ‘I have to get going. I’ll text you.’

Her face contorted with worry, and Seth patted her against the back before she could speak. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said, smiling. ‘Relax.’

Faith returned a shrug, and they said their goodbyes with a quick embrace.

As Seth walked back towards the two glass doors, her chest had become heavier and tighter. Faith could clearly see something was troubling her, and having surreal dreams that left her waking in spasms didn’t help one bit.

With one annoyed grunt, Seth stepped into the rain and pulled her hood over her head.

CHAPTER 2

SETH

Dark afternoon clouds loomed over the town like sheets of linen, covering it in speckles of rain and rumbles of thunder.

Students ran to their cars and dormitories with yells of laughter and quick chatter; some lingered under buildings and anxiously waited for the rain to end. But the weather had been awfully worse this year—Beckton had never seen this much rain before.

Seth gritted her teeth while she walked, the rain slipping down her sweater and making the hairs on her back stand right up from the chill.

She would have loved to be in bed right now, catching up on some well-earned rest, but instead, she had work to do. While she mumbled angrily to herself, she reached the parking lot; some students were backing out as she rushed to her car. The end of another vehicle backing out barely missed her as she passed.

With one big pull, the door of her old truck opened, and she swooped in. She shuddered; the musty air in her car smelled like old cigarettes and old shoes—her grandfather’s scent never left it.

Seth took a moment for herself, a small breath to catch her guard; a moment of silence.

Leaning her head back against the itchy car seat, she closed her eyes with a sniffle. It was times like these when the rain was louder than her thoughts.

Seth sighed. There was no time for this, no time for relaxation.

She roared the engine to life and backed out of her parking spot, checking both mirrors. And as she drove towards the gate, her grimace was prominent and sour, knowing very well she was in for more work.

The drive out of school was messy and backed up. It seemed like every student and teacher wanted to escape the rain, but didn’t think twice about it before hitting a huge traffic jam.

Seth groaned aloud; she was in for a stern talking-to by her boss. He’d stand there with his fat belly and angered face, and glare at her all night.

After ten weary minutes, the jam ceased to exist, and she took the right turn into town. It was another five-minute drive to her workplace, which put another three minutes on her lateness. She cussed and leaned over her wheel.

‘Ugh, give me a break,’ Seth muttered to herself.

She was stopped in the road once again, and an elderly woman backed out very cautiously—maybe a little too carefully.

Seth chewed at her bottom lip and watched. Once the old lady waved and thanked her with a sweet smile, Seth had to smile back gently. It’d be wrong to flip a sweet old lady off.

She took one more turn and parked quickly and rather