O U T O F T I M E
book 3 in the 'chaos series'
in which lusine returns to earth and is reunited with steve, but not everything is as it was when they said their farewells after the events of the battle of new york. with new companions in tow, ol...
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prologue "isn't this what you always wanted?"
The first evening in their Midgardian home had been strange. Nothing about it was like the worlds they'd come from, or left behind, and Lusine could already see the scepticism on Olea and Florian's faces.
Now, as they settle in for the night, the abode takes on a different kind of strangeness. The moment Lusine shuts herself into her bedroom, the reality of it hits her. This was really happening. She had really left Asgard, and Loki, behind.
But she knows it's what she needs as she slips into the bed and rolls onto her side, staring into the darkness closed in by drawn down blinds.
She can hear cars going back and forth on the road beneath, people laughing and shouting as they walk by, Florian and Olea conversing lowly in the living room. She can't quite hear what they're saying, but she's sure it isn't anything positive about their new choice of home.
Olea hadn't been impressed by the city and its lack of green. Even if she hadn't said it, Lusine could see it on her face as they were driven to their apartment complex and shown to their home. She'd be surprised if there weren't plants in every room within a week of them living here.
Florian hadn't been quite so subdued about his distaste for the world.
"This place is horrible," he'd said as soon as the door closed on the agent who'd escorted them, "It smells, it's busy, it's—"
"No one forced you to come here," Lusine had replied shortly before she turned to take her bags into the bedroom closest to the door.
That had been the end of that conversation, but she's certain it won't be the last. Florian was young, and he liked to complain. If he had a problem with something or someone, he wasn't one to bite his tongue. His thoughts would be known.
Lusine rolls over, wishing for sleep to meet her. Her limbs lie heavy and her head aches as she closes her eyes from the dark surrounding her.
The exhaustion from weeks of fighting and stress had been catching up to her lately, but letting herself relax into sleep was, as it always had been, difficult. Something about lying unconscious and vulnerable went against everything Lusine had always known.
That night, that itching unease is validated as, the moment her body relaxes itself, the terrors come rushing in all at once.
When her vision clears, she finds herself gazing down upon civilians of Remulan and a heavy crown upon her head, weighing her down into the granite throne, marbled with silver and blood. She licks her lips, finding the indecision of whether that was the blood of a stranger or her blood unnerving.
The crowd stare up at her, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
As Lusine attempts to stand, a searing pain scorches through her as rapid as a forest fire. She slumps back into the throne and looks down at herself. Inside, her stomach flips and squirms at the sight of several daggers holding her down, stabbing straight through her flesh and bone into the stone beneath her with unimaginable strength.
A lump lodges itself in her throat as the panic sets in, heart beating in her chest so loudly it's the only sound she can hear. Any attempt she makes to move sends pain pulsing through her body.
Even through her hisses of pain, the crowd watches with eyes like the moon, unmoving. No attempts at aid. Maybe they know the cost of stepping out of line here.
When the great entrance doors of the Volkovian throne room swing open and thud against the wall with force.
Even over the thundering of her heart, she hears that voice croon over her people, "Are you enjoying yourself, my dearest daughter?"
The figure of her mother comes forth, dressed all in rouge, brandishing a dagger already slick in ichor.
"You won't answer your own mother as you die on the throne of your beloved father?" Her head rocks back and she laughs. The empty sound echoes through the hall and bounces off every wall, rattling the room. "You always were a stubborn one to kill."
She pricks her finger on the tip of the dagger, watching as the blood runs all the way to her wrist.
Lusine swallows and opens her mouth to speak but can't find the words to sneer through the blinding agony. Her forehead beads with sweat and her face flushes as white as a ghost as her eyes squeeze shut, battling to stay conscious as her mother prowls closer.
"Isn't this what you always wanted?" Selene hisses, the question spitting onto Lusine's face as she peels open her eyes to welcome death. Release from this personal hell derived from trauma and fear by the devil herself. "To sit upon the throne and rule? To be queen?"
"No," Lusine chokes out. Blood laps from her mouth as she speaks, dripping down her chin.
"No?" Selene laughs maniacally again, the sound ear-splitting. "Well," she lifts the dagger into view, "I can fix that for you without a problem, darling, just hold still!"
Before Lusine can take another breath, Selene digs the dagger in, hilt deep.
Lusine wakes with a start. Eyes shooting open and sitting up to gather her bearings and remind herself over and over and over that she was safe. Safe and far, far away from that grief-fuelled monster. Her hands drag through her hair as she silently sobs into her knees, the tears running down her legs, in the aftermath of her newly contracted plague.
Fear is a powerful force. Never before had there been a greater destroyer than her. And now, she had reared her head and turned on Lusine, intent on annihilation.
And Lusine didn't know how long she could hold the doors closed against its constant onslaught anymore.
