The Paragon

Chapter Three

My mother had been dead for nine years; Eli and I had been ten when it happened. My mother being dead was something I had accepted and moved on from a long time ago. I went days and weeks without even thinking about her. Sometimes, I couldn't even properly remember her face or voice, though I was often told by Raya that I resembled her. But my mother was definitely dead.

So then why was she standing in front of me?

She was there, suddenly so familiar, it was like I hadn't missed her a day in my life. But I knew that I had to be dreaming this, because she looked exactly the same as when she'd died nine years ago: young, beautiful, and full of life.

"Mom?" I whispered, reaching out to touch her. Somehow, she was always just out of my reach. It was like every time I reached, she got further away.

Mom smiled. She did look like me; I could see what Raya was saying. She had my dark hair and eyes, the same tiny ears and the same straight nose. Her mouth moved—she was saying something! Why couldn't I hear her? I tried to get closer and still she stayed the same distance from me. Her mouth clearly formed words and I heard nothing but a loud buzzing in my ears, one that grew louder and louder.

"I can't hear you," I called out, louder in case she couldn't hear me as well. "Mom! I can't hear you!"

My words didn't seem to register with her, though she stopped speaking. Instead, she pointed at me, her finger squarely directed at the center of my chest. And as she did, I felt a shuddering run through my body, as though a warm gust of wind went through me. The buzzing noise got louder...

And then it stopped. And I opened my eyes.

I was not anywhere I recognized. The walls were metal, and curved slightly, up to a low ceiling made of metal tiles. I lifted my head slightly from the pillow, glancing around, feeling my heart beat faster and faster, unable to spot anything familiar in my environment.

I was alone. There was, however, a chair near the bed that looked meant for someone—a book was sitting on top of it. When I looked to read the title, however, I was shocked to find that I couldn't, as it was in a language I didn't recognize. The alphabet didn't even seem to be the same. I pushed myself up to a sitting position, grimacing slightly at the small wave of dizziness that brought forth. Something tugged at my wrist, and I realized that there was a needle stuck in it—I was attached to an IV. Without even thinking about it, I grasped at it, untaping it and pulling the needle out, gasping a bit at the slight discomfort it caused. Once it was out, I tossed it to the side and swung my legs off the bed, slowly rising to my feet, knees shaking a bit under my own weight. How long had I been asleep?

The ground was metal too, under my bare feet. It felt like the floor was vibrating. Where the hell was I? My clothes were different, a plain nightshirt and baggy pants that I didn't recognize. I raked my hand through my hair, tangled and messy. The foggy memory resurfaced—the dark-haired man leaning over me, saying I'd be all right. But I didn't remember anything after that, except my strange dream.

Who was he? Who were they? Where were Eli and Casp, and everyone else in the hideaway? They wouldn't have let me be taken without a fight—but then, Casp had stood aside to let the dark-haired man near me. He'd let him inject that syringe into me—had they drugged me? Or saved my life?

As my eyes searched the room, they fell on a small desk in the corner. On it was a monitor, a small keyboard—and my satchel! I hurried over to it, searching it quickly and efficiently. There. My secret side compartment still contained my emergency knife. Imperials wouldn't have left me with a weapon, would they? Then again, this one had been hidden, and my other knives were nowhere in sight. I gripped the handle of the dagger tightly, feeling comforted by having it in my hands.