Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 29

“She is still alive.” The voices echoed in a distant haze, ringing just at the edge of my awareness.

My eyelids felt impossibly heavy. It was as if I had a hundred-pound weight on each of them, making it a herculean task to pry them open—if only I could see anything at all. It was a suffocating heaviness, but it had nothing to do with the absence of air. Panic simmered just below the surface, ready to erupt.

I was gone. My friends were lost to me, and I was no longer at Neporian Academy, let alone in Ellialand. My mother, Damon, Zuina, Phoebi, Simon, Marie—I would never see any of them again.

My heart raved violently in my chest. The fact that I still had one was surprising, considering my current predicament. A familiar chill pricked my veins, leaving behind a trail of damage to my feeble organs. I was still alive—barely, but still here. Half of me was sold to some dark curse, and the other half was slowly being chewed away, bite by agonizing bite.

With the slightest effort, I cracked my eyes open. Blinding light invaded my senses, sharp and angry. I quickly squeezed them shut again. “Nope. Closed for business,” I thought, but reality didn’t give me a choice.

My mouth was as dry as the Sahara, a barren landscape where moisture dared not tread. Movement was impossible; the ache in my knees and elbows made it clear that I was not in any condition to go for a jog. All my energy seemed to have evaporated, leaving me a mere husk of my former self.

“Hey, flamingo face. Wake up.” A voice broke through the haze. Zuina was there, straightening my back into a sitting position. A fresh wave of bitterness coursed through my torso, but I couldn’t shout. Or scream. Or even muster a glare. I was too drained for anything but a pathetic whimper. “How are you feeling?”

“Here’s the water.” Phoebi splashed some water on my hands, managing to drench me despite only having half a glass. It was like she was trying to water a cactus.

Zuina poured the cool liquid between my lips, and it was as if the desert was waking up inside me. I gasped, taking my first breath as moisture seeped back into my being.

Slowly, I opened my eyes. Simon was perched on my leg, looking down at me like I was the most interesting thing he’d seen all day, while Damon stood nearby, holding a book like it was the Holy Grail. “Are you feeling alright?” he asked, concern etched into his features.

What did he expect? A tap dance of joy? Just moments ago, I thought I had crossed over to the other side.

From the questions bouncing around the room and the shock on their faces, it was clear I had teetered on the brink of death.

I opened my mouth to speak, but my vocal cords were on strike, denying me the chance to ask what had happened.

“Don’t bother.” Zuina must have seen my struggle and kept shoving water into my mouth like I was a pet goldfish.

As the liquid revived me, I swung my legs off the laboratory table and surveyed my surroundings. It was the usual chaos of an alchemy lab—colorful liquids bubbling in flasks, tables cluttered with experiments, and candlelit chandeliers casting eerie shadows. But on one table, a book caught my eye. Damon must have plucked it from Mrs. Tuth’s secret stash after whatever had happened to me.

The cover resembled a tome of forbidden knowledge from our school library. Transformation of dreams via alchemical compounds, it proclaimed—illegal in Ellialand. I felt a mix of intrigue and dread.

“There’s nothing in there. Just a bunch of complicated compounds and math mixtures that have never worked,” Damon said, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“How about nightmares?” Zuina chimed in, a smirk playing on her lips. She clearly hadn’t gotten the chance to leaf through it herself.

“Unlike other dreamers, nightmares’ traits transfer through genetics. They start to manifest during the teenage years,” Damon explained. “It’s all just fluff now—nothing we can use.”

So, Alma wasn’t a nightmare after all. She was transitioning out of teenagehood and had done more schooling than anyone else. During the fight, she had just been another girl Zuina knocked around. As for her family? Well, they were a different story.

“Wh…what happened?” My voice finally cracked through the silence, though it was barely above a whisper.

“Her eyes didn’t glow,” Zuina said, and I didn’t need to hear more. I knew she loved rubbing salt into wounds, especially if the wounds were mine. “Even after talking about the illegal book.”

“How about my name?” I barely managed to croak out.

“She stormed off,” Simon replied, rolling his eyes.

She knew she was being exposed—perhaps it was her own defense mechanism at play. She wasn’t innocent; she had been dabbling in things he shouldn’t have, conducting illegal research on the side.

“I think we should confront her,” I suggested, my voice stronger now. I felt a glimmer of hope; if we could confirm she wasn’t a nightmare, then she might be fought. I know I was dying, but if I was willing to save myself, confronting her was our best shot. She had to have an explanation of what my name was doing within a list of dead people. 

But Damon couldn’t take her on alone. She was a mix of an ancient vampire and a witch.

Everyone turned to Simon. During our first meeting, he had done things to Damon that might actually work on Mrs. Tuth—if she didn’t have more arcane magic up her sleeve.

“What?” Simon’s expression was a mix of confusion and mild irritation, his eyebrows raised.

“For Carmiabell,” Phoebi reminded him, crossing her arms as if daring him to back out.

“Under one condition.” Simon’s face lit up with mischief, and my heart sank.

Everyone fell silent, awaiting the inevitable. “He buys me another three-layered jelly stick.” He pointed accusingly at Damon.

It was comical, really, and at least he was fully committed.

With our new mission in place, we set our sights on Mrs. Tuth’s lair. It was time to face the music.