Vital - Book 1 (On hold: to be rewritten)

3. The Girl That Changed Her Fate

Light. Blinding light. All Wren could see was white, everywhere. Two doors appeared I front of her, and the light faded. She stood on seemingly nothing; the room was shrouded in blackness, the walls stretching into nothingness. The doors pulled themselves open. One spilled light into the dark room. A child, hardly older than six, skipped and laughed in a field of green grass, before being scooped up by her mother. The child squealed happily as her mother held in the air, letting the wind rush over her face. Wren felt a distinct urge to step through the door, into the light and the two figures that were so achingly familiar, though she couldn't remember ever seeing them before.

The other door revealed a dark mist was swirling inside, showing glimpses of a man clocked in black. His eyes glittered menacingly. Another child stood next to him, her face shadowed by a black cloak, clutching a gleaming knife and looking at her father expectantly, as if awaiting orders. She felt her feet began to move towards the open door, her body pulling her forward.

But she didn't want to go.

She steeled herself against the pull of the open door, gritting her teeth and balling her fists up. It felt like she was walking through thick mud as she pulled herself towards the other door. Wren sucked in a breath. The girl had turned to look at her, piercing, bright green eyes settled in the direction of Wren. All laughter had died on her lips. The mother hadn't noticed.

The other door was banging violently, and suddenly the pull increased. She screamed with effort, laying a hand on the frame of the light door. The swirling mist was seeping out of the dark door, tendrils of purple-black mist burning her eyes and throat and forming handcuffs around her wrists. She gave one last push, and threw herself threw the doorway, into the blinding light again. 

                                                                       ******

Wren sat up, sweating. The sheets had fallen onto the floor. Her throat and eyes burned. She felt her eyes widen as she caught sight of the bracelet of blisters and angry red marks that looped around her wrist. The dream had left its mark. 

Sunlight was pouring in through the white net curtains. She got up a flung them aside. This window was so much larger than her old one; the old one had been small and square, whereas this one was high and arched, like those in a church. A cool breeze blew in off the canal, which her window looked out onto. Below, children played and splashed in the water under the clear blue sky, surrounded by emerald green trees. 

She caught sight of herself in the mirror in the bathroom; her hair was messy, forming a halo of curls around her head. She pulled off the large, baggy t-shirt that she slept in, and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. She pulled her hair back into a pony tail, and headed down stairs. 

The Blackthorn mansion was a lot easier to navigate in the day. Light spilled in through each small window that lined the corridor. A few doors were open, but most were firmly closed. 

Soft music from a piano drifted up the stairs as she came out onto the first landing. The music got louder as she descended the stairs. A door was open under the stairs, leading into a brightly lit room lined with row upon row of books. Iris, the small girl she had seen last night, was sitting at a black grand piano, curly, light brown hair falling into her eyes as she looked intently at her fingers. The music stopped suddenly, and she looked up, sea green eyes piercing Wren. She suddenly felt like a deer caught in headlights. But then Iris smiled. It was brief, and small, but it reassured Wren that Iris didn't mind her being there. She looked down and began playing again. She seemed very talented for her age.

Despite the concert invitation, Wren was starving, so left her spot at the doorframe and made for the kitchen. Hale, Cara and Alec were huddled around the counter, talking in low voices.