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  Frowning, I turned to the adjacent painting, which showed Tristan and I having a picnic… in a graveyard of all places. Up till now, I had always thought graveyards were tranquil, peaceful places, but the idea of having a picnic there with Tristan who, by simply whispering some long-dead words, could urge the long-dead corpses to rise from their graves, was anything but peaceful. Still, I had to admit we seemed happy, both of us with wide smiles on our faces. A picnic basket stood between us, and we were sitting on a red-and-white checkered blanket. Tristan was leaning towards me, holding a cookie, and it seemed like he was about to put it in my mouth.

  But to my horror, the shadow lingered over one of the graves, peering at us from a distance.

  What the hell was this? What did it mean?

  After the picnic-at-the-graveyard painting, I moved on to the next one. This portraitdepicted Damian and I, of all people, in an underground crypt. A sarcophagus stood in the middle of the dungeon-like room, with standing chandelier with six candles next to it, illuminating the crypt.

  I narrowed my eyes to take a closer look at the painting. To the right were Damian and I. Damian had me cornered, standing so close to me that his lips were inches away from mine. His hands were on either side of my body, leaning against the wall.

  Was he trying to attack me? Did he want my blood? Or was something else going on?

  A shiver went down my spine as I spotted the by-now-familiar the shadow, this time big enough to occupy the entire background of the painting.

  Closer, closer, closer… whatever that ominous shadow-presence was, it was certainly not a good omen, that much I could tell.

  Reluctantly, I focused on the next composition. The paintings seemed to progress, with the shadow becoming bigger and bigger…

  The next painting instantly made my cheeks burn.

  It showed Ronan and I in a bedroom which was completely decorated in a warm but vibrant red color. A gigantic canopy bed dominated the space. The furniture was classy but with an old-fashioned touch; grand armchairs, ceiling-height closets. It reminded me of one of the rooms in the castle of Beauty and the Beast: luxurious and spacious. But what had brought the blush upon my face wasn’t the room itself, but where Ronan and I were at—we were in bed, the covers pulled up over us so only our heads and bare shoulders were visible.

  We were kissing.... And probably doing a lot more than kissing.

  I imagined kissing those full lips, touching that perfect face, and I was so preoccupied by it that I didn’t pay attention to the shadow at first. But then, I remembered, and began searching for it.

  This painting was an anomaly, though.

  There was no shadow.

  At first glance, at least.

  I moved closer, inspecting the painting in more detail. For a few seconds, I lingered on the perfect replica of Ronan’s face, the handsome features immortalized in the work, but then I forced myself to look beyond that. Was the shadow truly gone? And if so, was this a good sign? Or a bad one?

  Next to the tall closet was a mirror, and the closer I came and the more I focused on the painting, the more I began to see something in the mirror.

  I squinted, trying to get a closer look at the reflection. With my nose practically pressed against the canvas, I could make out the shape—a black blob, with no eyes, no nose. An outline of a figure, a shadow…

  The shadow was in the mirror.

  And as I concentrated more, hoping to be able to make out some features of the shadow, it seemed to grow taller in the mirror’s surface. Almost as if it was coming closer…

  Instantly, the hair on the back of my neck stood on edge. Goosebumps ran over my arms, and the blood froze in my veins.

  Slowly, I turned my head to the left, and glanced over my shoulder, while my heart skipped a beat.

  The shadow was behind me.

  Chapter Nine

  I ran, without fully realizing what was happening, my feet dragging me along while my mind was still processing what had happened.

  Had the shadow materialized from the painting through the mirror?

  Had the shadow been lurking behind me all along?

  Why did the shadow appear in the paintings predicting my future, and most importantly, what the hell was it?

  Fear drove me forward, telling me it was stupid to even contemplate those things if every inch of my body, every ounce of survival instinct I’d ever had told me that the shadow wanted to hurt me.

  I rushed out of the room, slamming the door shut behind me. Could shadows walk through doors? I wasn’t about to find out. I raced further down the hallway, chilled to the bone and rubbing my arms attempting to keep warm.

  Another door, this one on the other side of the corridor.

  I didn’t want to go in. That shadow had terrified me enough, and it was just that—a shadow.

  Who knows what else this creepfest can throw at me?

  Then, as I tried to find the courage to enter the second room, the door behind me started rattling. The doorknob turned violently from left to right. The shadow locked up in there wanted to get out… desperately.

  Instinctively, I pulled open the door of the second room, walked in, and slammed it shut behind me. Rather two doors between me and that shadow than one.

  Taking a few deep breaths in order to calm down, I took in my surroundings. This room, unlike the gallery of paintings, was familiar. It was home. More importantly, our kitchen, but not in its current state, disfigured by the ugly tulip wallpaper my mother had remodeled the walls with this summer. This wallpaper was older, a few versions before. The wallpaper of my childhood, depicting tiny suns against a blue background.

  Food was cooking on the stove, and I smelled the faint scent of roasted beef, my father’s favorite.

  Mom hadn’t made it once, not since he left, but I had smelled it every Sunday for years in a row, so I knew its trademark scent. That meant that in the reality of this room, my father was still with us.

  I braced myself. Facing a shadow scared me half to death but having to face my father again was even more terrifying. Would it break my heart all over again?

  You have to be strong, I told myself.

  “There you are.”

  My father’s voice just about ripped my heart in half. I hadn’t heard it in ten years, yet I would recognize it anywhere. Out of a thousand voices, I would be able to pick out his voice. The voice that had read me bedtime stories, that had sung to me when I was sick, that had comforted me when I felt sad.

  Biting my lip until I tasted blood, I slowly turned around to face my father. He hadn’t changed one bit since the last time I had seen him, so obviously he was a memory conjured up by this wicked place, not a real life-and-blood version. Still, it hurt, because he looked so familiar to me, yet he was a complete stranger.

  I wanted to yell at him, accuse him of walking out on me and mom, but all I could do was stare. Take in the features of the man who was supposed to protect me and keep me safe from harm, and who instead abandoned me to fend for myself.

  Father put his hands on my shoulders, gently, and bent through his knees until he was at eye-level with me.

  No. Of all moments, not this one. This was the one moment I couldn’t take, the moment I had relived over and over again in my dreams, in my memories. The moment I had so desperately tried to change. Maybe if I had said something instead of stayed quiet. Maybe if I had begged him not to go. Maybe…

  “I have to go,” Father said to me, his blue eyes gazing straight into mine. Exact replicas of my eyes. For most of my features, I took after my mother, but my eyes were completely inherited from him. “I have to leave in order to protect you. Know that I will always love you, my Devilina. This is not your fault.” He leaned forward and gave me a kiss on the forehead.

  His eyes were glistening with tears, but his lips were a hard line, showing resolve. He squeezed my hands one final time, and then let go.

  I watched him leave, stuck in the same loop of memories as I always was. Even in t
his dream-room, I couldn’t stop him from leaving. “Dad…” I whispered, the word drifting on the wind, chasing after him, but he didn’t turn around, he didn’t come back to me.

  A cackling laugh resonated from the other end of the room. I snapped my head in the direction of the sound.

  The shadow stood in the corner of the room, watching the spectacle, and obviously enjoying how much it hurt me. But the shadow, which had been a quiet presence so far, had now laughed.

  And I recognized that laugh, that raspy sound, like nails on chalkboard.

  The woman from my nightmare. The queen on the flesh-and-bone throne.

  Chapter Ten

  “What… what do you want?” I asked the woman.

  She moved forward, out of the shadows, and now her grotesque features were revealed. The gaping mouth, the impossibly thin frame, the long nails so sharp they could slice someone’s throat.

  “Desssssstiny,” she said in that raspy voice. Maggots swirmed in her empty eyesockets.

  She reached for me, her claw-like nails scraping agaisnt my skin.

  I stepped back, retreating from her.

  “It’sssss coming…” She glided closer to me, urging me to back up against the wall of the replica of our kitchen ten years ago. The scenery changed all around me. The wallpaper peeled back, revealing the walls covered in dark stains. Was it blood? The kitchen sink looked rusty, as if it hadn’t been used in years. The cabinets were open, revealing empty shelves, cobwebs the only occupants.

  The woman floated over the floor like a phantom. Her dress of human skin hovered inches above the ground.

  “Devina….” The queen of maggots clacked in her hoarse voice. She was so close now that I saw every single maggots crawling in her empty eye sockets. I felt bile rising in my throat, ready to throw up.

  You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for, Cassie’s words resonated in my mind.

  This was just a test. I had faced the nightmare woman for years, practically every night. If I could face her in my nightmares, I could defeat her in the real world too.

  The woman opened her mouth, letting out a high-pitched scream that went through marrow and bone and for one horrifying second, I thought her mouth would grow bigger and bigger until she would swallow me in one bite.

  Those sharp claws snatched at my neck, trying to hurt me, while she kept on screaming, destroying my eardrums. Then, she snapped her mouth shut, circled her hand around my throat, and lifted me up around the neck. Her iron grip crushed my neck with tremendous strength. A gurgling sound, like the last tremors of a corpse, escaped from her.

  Black stars danced in front of my view. I was going to die if I didn’t do something soon.

  You’re strong, Dev, I told myself. Be strong.

  I thrashed and kicked, withering to get free from the iron grip the monster had on me.

  A strange, electric current floated through me, something unfamilar and bizarre. Or maybe it was something that had always been there, but I just hadn’t noticed it yet.

  Don’t give up, I told myself. You’re stronger than you think.

  I felt the energy, led it guide me, followed the current as it raced from my heart to my fingers, like blood rushing through my veins. It didn’t feel like magic, but maybe it was…

  My fingers tingled, and sparks arose from my fingertips.

  Power. I had power.

  Without giving myself time to second-guess myself, I put my hands on both sides of the ghoul’s face and pushed my fingers into her skin with all the strength I had. Blue sparks flew from my fingers into her face, burning her wherever I touched her.

  The ghoul screamed and dropped me.

  I gasped for air. My throat burned as if it was on fire, and my lungs cried out in agony. But I was free; I could breathe.

  The queen of maggots swayed back and forth, holding on to her face. Burn marks appeared where I had touched her, and she clawed at her face, at the burnt skin, until entire chunks of flesh came loose. She seemed like a wurm escaping its cocoon, but the cocoon was her own skin.

  I resisted the urge to throw up, and stumbled out of the room, leaving the monstrosity behind me. Her screams echoed after me, chasing me.

  The power was gone. I no longer felt it coursing through my veins. But it had been real, even if it had only lasted for a fleeting second.

  I had wielded that power to defeat her. For now, at least.

  Slamming the door of the room closed behind me, I panted as I leaned against it, trying to catch my breath.

  The hallway stretched on to my right, but for the first time since entering the Testing House, I could make out the door at the end.

  The doorknob behind my back shook violently. The queen of the dead was trying to get out.

  I held on to the wall for support, pulling myself forward inch by inch, nearly resting my entire wright against the wall. Why was I so exhausted? My legs barely wanted to cooperate. Each step seemed to take more energy than I had left; rather than walking through a hallway, I felt as if I was climbing Mount Everest in the worst weather conditions possible.

  Why did I feel so drained? Was it because of the power I had used?

  The door at the end of the hallway was like a beacon in the darkness.

  Come on, Devina, it seemed to say. Come on, you can do it.

  The door rattled in its hinges behind me, and then a violent thud followed. The door flew open with a sickening squeak.

  I didn’t dare to turn around and face the maggot queen.

  My body felt like it weighed a thousand kilograms, like in those nightmares where you are being chased by a monster, but you’re moving impossibly slow, each step seemingly taking forever and making it easy for the monster to catch up with you.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw her moving, the woman from my nightmares. She crawled up the walls on all fours, like a spider. She was moving fast.

  Too fast.

  I gritted my teeth, refusing to give up.

  The door was within reach…

  I felt her hot breath on my back, the smell of rot and death escaping from her mouth. Her claws grabbed hold of my clothes, ripping the fabric.

  My fingers clutched around the doorknob and I pulled it with all my strength.

  Her teeth grazed against the skin in my neck…

  And then the door flew open, and I was free.

  Chapter Eleven

  I was back in the front room. The others still stood where they had been standing before I entered the hallway from hell. How much time had passed? Seconds? Hours? Days? My internal compass was messed up.

  I collapsed onto the floor. My stomach heaved, and it took all my inner strength not to throw up on the carpet. My legs feld like lead, and I felt like Sleeping Beauty, ready to sleep for a century or two.

  “Dev!” Cassie raced toward me and fell on her knees next to me. “Are you okay?”

  I coughed a few times. My neck, the spot where the nightmare woman’s teeth had grazed me, felt as if it was on fire.

  “You could’ve…” I coughed again. “Told me…” Another cough, nearly spitting out my lungs. “It would be this bad.”

  Alec knelt in front of me, a hand on my shoulder. “What happened? You look as if you fought a monster or something.”

  “I did.” I took a deep breath, even though the fresh air burned my lungs. I looked at Cassie. “The woman from my nightmare. She was there.”

  “You mean the woman from the red room?” Cassie’s eyes grew wide and she started pacing around. “But how?”

  “What do you mean?” Christian offered a hand to help me up, and I gladly took it. “A woman from your nightmare?”

  I gestured at Cassie, hoping she could reply for me, since I still struggled to catch my breath. She caught on to the hint and explained. “Dev has been having the same nightmare for years, about a woman sitting on a throne of flesh and bone in a red room and talking to her.”

  “And you saw this woman in there?” Tristan pointed at the symb
ol-engraved door.

  “Not just saw her.” I was still leaning on Christian for support. It felt good to lean on him. He felt so strong, so protective. As if he could single-handedly stop any shadow slash nightmare woman out to get me. “She chased me from one room to the next.”

  Damian’s gaze darkened, and he crossed his arms. “That’s not normal.”

  “It’s not?” I asked.

  Alec shook his head. “The first room always shows glimpses of your future, in the form of paintings. The second room introduces you to your worst memory, as a way of urging you to let go of the past.”

  “We were actually joking when we said someone had been mauled to death during the test,” Christian said. “The test is actually pretty tame. Just holding up a mirror image to your past and showing you your future.”

  “You’re not supposed to rush out looking as if the devil was on your heels,” Tristan said. “Or with your clothes torn.” He pointed at my shirt, the bottom of which was ripped to shreds.

  “So, I shouldn’t have been chased around by a madwoman?”

  “No,” Alec and Christian said in unison, and Damian shook his head as if to emphasize this.

  “Now what?” Cassie asked, throwing her hands in the air. “Will you report this? What if that creature follows her to the Academy?”

  “We will report it.” Alec nodded at her.

  “And you’ve been having trouble with this thing chasing you for years?” Ronan asked all of the sudden. He hadn’t said anything yet, not since I came bursting through the door, narrowly escaping impending doom.

  Ronan didn’t look as shocked as the others, more like mildly amused. He was rubbing his chin, lost in thought.

  “Yes. Well, in my nightmares, at least. Always the same nightmare.” I had calmed down a little, and breathing was becoming easier, although I was still shivering.

  “Hm. Interesting.”

  Ronan didn’t say anything else, and Alec rolled his eyes at him. “If you have something to say, Mesmer, why not just say it?”