Nepenthe • Something that can make you forget grief or suffering.
Never feeling like they belonged was a feeling that Lissa Dragomir lived with, even with her family and life long best friend, although they aided in that feeling not being so strong...
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Mia and Viktoria moved cautiously through the rest of the basement, their footsteps echoing against the concrete floor. The air was damp and stale, filled with the metallic tang of old blood.
Neither of them spoke at first. They didn't need to.
Every corner they turned revealed more of the same—abandoned cages, chains bolted to the walls, bloodstains that had dried to a dark rust color. The space was bigger than either of them had expected—too big for a single feeding ground.
"God," Viktoria muttered, voice low, "how many people did they bring here?"
"Too many," Mia replied tightly, her eyes scanning every shadow.
When they finally returned to the main room—the one where they had been held prisoner—Mia froze in the doorway.
Adrian was kneeling on the ground, his palms pressed lightly to Kate's temples. Eddie lay unconscious nearby, a deep bruise spreading along his jaw. Mason sat beside him, pressing a blood-soaked strip of shirt against his own neck.
"What the hell are you doing?" Mia demanded, crossing the room in quick strides.
Adrian didn't look up. His expression was strangely distant, his eyes glassy.
"He's going to visit Guardian Belikov in his dream," Mason said before Mia could grab Adrian's shoulder. His voice was weary but calm. "If he's sleeping."
Mia frowned, but said nothing. She stepped back and watched as Adrian's breathing slowed, his body going utterly still.
In the dream—and he knew perfectly well that it was a dream—Adrian stood in a void. There was no light, no sound, no ground beneath his feet. Only a weightless, endless expanse that stretched on forever.
He exhaled slowly, letting the spirit energy hum through him like a tuning fork. Find him.
The blackness began to ripple, and a shape began to form in the distance—tall, solid, familiar.
Dimitri Belikov.
The world came into focus slowly—soft light, the smell of pine and old wood, the faint hiss of a fire. Dimitri was standing in a cozy living room of his childhood home, a soft smile on his face, almost as if he'd seen something sweet.
The worn living room couch was draped with an old quilt, the battered bookshelf lined with his mother's favorite romances, the framed icons above the hearth. Snow pressed against the windowpanes, the world outside dim and cold, but inside, the light of the fire flickered with familiar comfort.
