Irina Taylor, a girl who lives in the 1940s with the gift to see any human's soul, goes from a social outcast to a prophecy come true. But there is a realm that coexists with ours, invisible to the majority of mankind; only a select few can see thro...
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𝓜ʏᴛᴀɪʟʙᴏɴᴇ was incredibly sore by the time we arrived at Arnie Ingilby's residence. The lengthy ride made me realize how daunting the Cataclysm was in its enormousness. The impossibly tall buildings and cobblestone streets continued far into the horizon, and we were in the center of it all. Reaching the outskirts of the deadly quiet city would have taken a full day on horseback.
Mister Ingilby's dwelling was interesting, to say the least. On the outside, it appeared to be a typical Victorian three-level home painted a calming blue with oak doors at the entrance. However, the windows were covered in thick tarps, and over everything, odd symbols and mad scribblings were painted everywhere. When we ascended the main steps, I noted seven locks on the doors. Anthony rapped his knuckles on the wood thrice. A terrified yelp could be heard from one of the rooms on that level.
"Wh–Who is it?" the timid voice called out.
"It's only Anthony, my friend. I require your help."
I thought I heard an irritated groan come from inside. Then, to confirm my suspicion, the voice grumbled, "How many times must I say it? We are not friends. We are merely acquaintances whose businesses cross from time to time." The door began to jiggle, followed by the sound of seven locks clicking consecutively. The door creaked open a sliver, just enough to reveal dusty blonde hair and thick spectacles peeping through the gap. "And it is Doctor Arnold Ingilby to you."
I stepped into his line of view, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Anthony, you did not mention you ventured here with another. 'Tis only 'Arnie' to you, Miss."
"What Anthony meant was we need your help. Please," I added, despite my blunt nature. "I've been told you know some things that would greatly benefit us. I would appreciate it if you could take time to assist us, and then we will be on our way."
"Of course, since you asked so politely," he said pleasantly. I heard Anthony grumble something about Arnie under his breath. Arnie pushed the door open wider, getting a more thorough look at me. His features twisted ever so slightly with dismay. "I have not seen you around before, Miss. What might your name be?" I could tell his apprehension about the situation was growing, a voice of reason chiming in his head to ask more questions.
Anthony cut me off rudely before I could answer, discretely placing a hand on the small of my back to get my attention. "Beth. Her name is Beth."
"No," I shook my head and aimed a glare at him. Anthony's fingers tensed against my bodice, but I ignored him. I didn't want to lie to this poor man. He deserved to know who he was helping. Besides, he would have found out the truth at some point. "He's lying. My name is Irina. Irina Taylor."
Arnie's eyes bulged. "No, no, no, no, no, no." The heavy oak door slammed shut in our faces. I jumped at the loud noise. Anthony gave me an arrogant glance that said, "I told you so." Then, he pounded on the door vigorously with pursed lips. "I will not be captured and tortured as a result of your worthless endeavor, Anthony!" Arnie yelled from inside. "You would be wise to turn the girl in now before that becomes your fate, too."
