A Hero in the Dark: 2nd Edition

Chapter 31: Charted Love

I rise the next morning feeling a bit like a gymnast that won a bronze medal, and at breakfast, I'm more confident with my telekinesis, using it to get a plate of pancakes and bacon without my hands and all. Nine just smiles and says I'm improving, but even still, for that little exertion, a light headache comes on. I can only lift a few items at a time so far, small items, ones that are almost weightless, and it's easier if I can imagine the weight of the item move on its own.

"So, Emily's Legacy has to do with energy, right?" Eight asks, like he's still trying to grasp the concept of it. I don't blame him; it's hard for me to wrap my head around the idea.

"It's what Henri said," John answers.

"Well, what if we did some meditation?"

"Meditation?" The idea doesn't excite me. "How's that going to help?"

"Back in India, I used to meditate all the time," Eight explains. "It helped me stay calm and, well, sane; self-centred. Maybe that's what your Legacy needs. Maybe it isn't a Legacy based on physical combat but spiritual wellbeing."

"Sounds lame," Nine comments. "What the hell does that even mean?"

"It's worth a shot," Eight adds, ignoring the brute. "What do you say?"

I look at John, who nods. "Ok. I'll try anything."

***

"Meditation isn't just a way to calm the mind," Eight begins. "It's a way to connect to your soul and spirit." I watch him carefully, silently. "Close your eyes. Open your palms to the room," he instructs, and I do. "Breathe in through your nose... now out through your mouth..."

I've never done anything like this before, though dad has encouraged me to, and I must admit, it's weird. It's not comfortable sitting on the floor, and my back begins to ache pretty quickly. I'm fidgety and restless, but I still try to mimic what Eight's doing the best I can. I don't know if any of what I'm doing is working or right though. Aren't I supposed to not think at all?

"How do you feel?" Eight asks after minutes of awkward silence.

"I don't know. Calm, I guess."

"Good," he says. "Feel the air against your cheeks. Is it hot or cool?"

"Warm." But I think that's because of the candles between us.

"Breathe it in. Feel that warmth from the candles' flames. Can you feel them?"

I let out a quiet outbreath and say I do. Minutes seem to pass. John shuffles beside me and Marina blows out a sigh through her teeth. They're calm. My palms are warm. I draw my focus on the sensation of the Legacy, trying to remember what it felt like last time, in the cave... "Easy," Eight says. My attention draws back to his voice with a rush of adrenaline. "Don't push it, Emily."

A few short flashes of light swarm my vision—blue light. I have no idea where it comes from. I'm back. I'm not hanging by my wrists though. I'm walking. It's dark, and it's everywhere: a soft hum behind my ear and a tinge of blue in the curves of my vision, but I'm too focused on the room.

"Henri?" My voice echoes as I draw closer to the figure on the wall. But I'm soon to realize that the figure is no man like Henri at all. It's a boy. His back is pressed to the stone like mine was, head bowed, hanging by thick steel chains. John.

My eyes snap open with a gasp. I'm back—Lecture Hall. He's okay. He sees me; we lock eyes. He doesn't know. What was that?!

"Emily? You okay?" Marina asks, her voice melancholic, and I shake my head.

"What happened?" he asks.

It wasn't real. No, it wasn't real, it wasn't real. "You—I saw you," I say, looking at John. "In the cave. You were hanging there, like I was, and—"

He stops me with a hand on my shoulder and gives me a look that I have no clues as to what it means. He stands to bring me to my feet, holds me—I regard Marina and Eight with a tight thank you—and alien boy takes me out of the room. "Everything ok?"

I look away, at the polished hardwood floor. "I don't know if these nightmares are Setrákus Ra's creations or my own anymore..."

"It doesn't matter. I know you can get through it, Emily."

"I don't know..." I hug my middle. "How do you stay hopeful knowing that death is a possibility at any time, at any hour, of every day? How do you get through it if it's all you feel?"

John's silent. I see him try to think up a response, maybe the right response, but I turn away further. I don't expect him to be able to help...

"All you can do is try, Em," he finally says, pausing. "You know," he adds. "Ever since we left Paradise, I haven't thought of Sarah once like I used to. I don't know why; I thought I would be hurt. Maybe a part of me is... but, well..."

I have no idea why he's telling me this. "Do you still love her?"

"Honestly, I don't know," he says, his eyes downcast. "I still care about her, and I'd do anything to keep her safe... but I think—I think I love someone else more."

"Someone else?"

He turns my chin up towards him then, smiling in that way of his that I find so utterly alluring. His hands move to my waist and before I know what's happening, he's kissing me softly. He tastes of peppermint; he smells of it too. I don't dare try to move.