Of Gears and Humanity

| 18.1

[ELENA]

My pillows were soft under my head. It was a comfort I needed, considering the number of drinks I had. The after-effects of the alcohol I had remained in my chest. A soft burning, yet uncomfortable, nonetheless. Reaching my arm over and around my pillow, I squeezed the cool square against my face and sighed. But when sunlight hit my face, I opened my eyes.

And screamed.

"Oh, no, no, no." Morning was bright outside my window. No, it wasn't morning. It couldn't be. The sun's position was high, not blocked by any clouds; afternoon smiled at me from behind my opened curtains.

Panic pressed against my chest.

"I'm late." I pushed off the side of my bed, hurriedly reached for my sandals, and hopped towards my closet, struggling to slip them on my feet. "Oh, papa is going to kill me."

My training gear conveniently hung in a hanger closest to me. Mentally, I thanked Marleth because she would have been the only reason my clothes would have been prepared. And after I gave my silent due respects, I cursed her, because she could have woke me from sleep. I could have been ready, already out the door.

Instead, with my sandals uncomfortably backward on my feet, I slid out into the hall with a hiss. "Papa, I'm sorry," I whispered to the air as I pulled my hair up into a messy bun on top of my head. "I'm sorry I drank too much, sorry I overslept. I'm sorry I—"

I was just feet from my room before I stopped and observed the hallway before me. If it were the day of my mock tour, the castle would have, should have, been flooded with people. It wasn't. The hall outside my room was empty.

Slowing my steps, I turned and glanced at the emptiness. The air felt stiff. I couldn't smell food cooking from the kitchen, couldn't hear the distant conversations of excited guards. It was just me and the surrounding silence, which wrapped around me. Unwelcomed. Terrifying.

As I turned back to continue down the hall, I nervously picked at my nails. "Maybe I'm so late everyone has gone to the forest." I nodded and closed my eyes. "Yes, that's it. I'm late, they're early, and they're probably so upset that—"

The sound of small feet rushed towards me from behind. My eyes snapped open as I stepped aside just in time to let a small girl run past me. I reached out, wanting to ask the child if she knew where everyone had gone. But the sight of her dress caught me off guard, as did the jewels on her wrist.

"That's," I closed my outstretched hand into a fist, "me."

The child turned nervously, glancing back down the hall. One look at the girl and I knew the face that looked my way. Her eyes were mine, the black curls cascading down her back were mine, too. Lifting my hand, I covered my mouth and whispered against my palm, "Am I dreaming?"

"Papa," the girl whispered before turning down the adjacent hall.

The echo of my father's voice followed the sound of hers. He sounded furious, emotional, and the fact that the young me needed to look into it, a part of my heart felt I had to do the same.

"Dreams have meaning," I whispered, quickly walking down the hall and turning the corner after the girl. "I will beat myself up if I wake up now."

As the younger version of myself hurried towards the sound of my father's voice, I did the same. We passed open doors; empty rooms too dark to see into. Closed curtains blocked the sun from all windows. I stopped to peek inside one of them but found the girl had stopped, too. Right outside my father's study.