The Black Lotus | Vol.1, The Eldenarian Artifacts ✓

30.

Makaela couldn't bring herself to visit Sebastian in the infirmary. The medics told her he had suffered a concussion and slight internal bleeding. They had managed to stop the bleeding, but they were still waiting to see if he would make it out the night.

If he died, that would've been another life gone because of her.

She stared up at the ceiling.

He threw away his entire life to save her.

Pressing her fingers against her lips, she closed her eyes. Last night they kissed for the first time. She never thought it would've been their last too. The image of his limp body being dragged by Thorian terrorized her mind. When she saw him, it felt like someone had ripped out her heart and stomped on it.

It was all her fault.

A bright light flashed beyond her eyelids. Opening her eyes, she glanced down at the Illumio. The golden gemstone strobed like a searchlight. Rays of amber light bathed the walls of her cabin, dispelling the shadows filling up the small room. She squinted at the ring, shielding her eyes from its light.

What is this?

Whispers rushed into her ears. She tried calling for her help, but the words crumbled in her mouth like a sandcastle in a high tide. Her mind couldn't grab hold of a single thought. The whispers grew in volume, forcing out everything else in her head until they felt like the only thing she'd ever known. Gritting her teeth, she clamped her hands over her ears.

Then they vanished. A single voice remained.

Come dream with me, child.

She hadn't recognized any of the voices whispering to her. But she knew this one.

Her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

The darkness swallowed her whole.

#

Makaela was dreamwatching again.

Rusted, metal bars stood before her. Brick walls were placed within, creating a series of dark holding cells. At her back was a stone wall lined with torches burning with purple flames. The air inside was cold, almost like she was stood in the middle of a frozen ocean. All of the cells in the dungeon were empty.

Except for one.

Ahead of her, a man laid in the shadows. She could hear his teeth chattering as he shivered. Her eyebrows lifted as she approached his cell. Slivers of moonlight slid in through deft cracks in the walls. They dragged their fingers across the man's figure, giving her a glimpse of his face.

Makaela's head swam. She choked back a sob, her hands clamped over her mouth.

"Uncle Ollie?" she breathed out.

She couldn't breathe. Her eyes darted around. The inside of her head felt like a pressurized pipe seconds away from bursting.

Olivier's golden eyes shone through the darkness around her. His head rested on the cold, concrete floor. Dried blood and grime matted his hair against his forehead. Small cuts, some partially healed and others fresh, marred his dirty face. His cashmere sweater sported more bloodstains than before. Every breath the man took was slow and ragged.

Makaela struggled to steady her breath. Stumbling forward, she gripped the bars of his cell. Invisible arms squeezed her body, constricting like a boa and robbing her lungs of air. Her choppy breaths mixed in with her uncle's labored ones.

He was alive, but barely.

She should've been relieved. Grateful, even. But all she felt was immense, crushing guilt.