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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The courtyard felt colder the longer Kate stood there. A thin crust of old snow clung stubbornly to the shaded edges of the Academy grounds, the kind that January refused to fully let go of. The stone paths were half-cleared but still damp and icy in places, and every step Kate took sent a sharp sting of cold up through the soles of her bare feet.
She barely felt it.
Her legs were still shaky as she started toward the chapel, each step a little uneven as her body struggled to fully remember how to function again. Dimitri's oversized shirt hung loosely on her frame, the collar slipping down one shoulder while the sleeves swallowed half her biceps.
The hem brushed the tops of her thighs and her thin sleeping shorts did almost nothing to block the winter air.
Kate didn't seem to notice.
Her hair was tangled from sleep, loose strands sticking out wildly around her face. And her eyes—she knew they still weren't right yet. The familiar green hadn't returned fully, leaving them dark and reddish-brown in the lingering aftermath of the nightmare.
Her gift hadn't settled, not yet, and Kate was sure it would be a while before it settled fully, especially considering it was acting irratically nowadays.
She kept walking anyway.
The Academy chapel rose quietly ahead of her, its tall stone structure casting long shadows across the courtyard. The sloped roof climbed steeply toward the bell tower, easily four stories high before tapering off at the peak.
Eddie sat near the edge. Even from here she could see the slight curve of his back as he leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. His gaze was fixed on the ground directly in front of the chapel doors, like he'd been staring at the same spot for a very long time.
Kate didn't call out, instead she angled toward the side of the building where a narrow door sat tucked between two stone buttresses. It was meant for maintenance access more than anything else, rarely used by anyone who didn't know it was there.
The metal handle burned cold against her fingers as she pulled it open but the door thankfully didn't squeak. Inside, the chapel was dim and quiet, the thick stone walls blocked most of the outside noise, leaving the interior filled with a soft, hollow stillness. Pale sunlight filtered through tall stained-glass windows, scattering muted colors across the rows of wooden pews.
Kate walked past them slowly.
Her steps echoed faintly on the polished floor as she made her way toward the narrow staircase in the back corner of the building.
