Page 22 of Tethered Fates

“It’s all good.”

The inside smells like chemicals from the cleaner the artists use to wipe down their stations. The space is doused in darkness and silence, making our light footsteps heavier by contrast. I haven’t been to the studio in months, but apart from more punk posters plastered on the walls, nothing has changed.

Summer’s steps are hesitant as she moves around me, her breathing shallow. The hand on her strap clenches and unclenches.

“Summer,” I say as she comes to my shoulder. “This really is okay, don’t feel guilty. We’re just getting your stuff back.”

After a beat, she blows out a huff of air from her nose but stays silent as she leads me to the back of the studio, to a door labelled ‘Basement: Staff Only’. She gives her backpack strap one last tentative squeeze, then reaches out—her black rings shiny despite the lack of light—and grabs the handle with more certainty before twisting it down. Rusty hinges squeak as the door is opened reluctantly, as if every inch is costing Summer something.

Not for the first time, I think about why Summer and my big bro fell out. She said something about Kai lying, but since she hasn’t offered anything else, I haven’t pried. Memories of my own time at uni flood me, and it occurs to me she might be feeling what I felt when I packed up and left for good. It was like saying goodbye to a life I wasn’t ready to let go of.

To a dream that was ending.

And maybe every time our feet meet the wooden steps, the hollow taps are like the tick-tock of a clock counting down. So when we finally reach the bottom to stand on solid ground, Summer’s shoulders sagging, I wonder if she feels like her life at King’s has officially ended? Like mine did when I left art school.

A light is clicked on, and I rub my eyes as we’re bathed in a glow bouncing off the brilliant-white walls. When spots stop dancing in my vision, I glance around to look for Summer’s paints, only to find the basement empty of everything but a couple of broken hydraulic chairs pushed into the corner.

“I don’t see your stuff…” I scratch the back of my head, frowning. A bad feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. Kai wouldn’t throw them away; he’d never do anything that mean. “Wanna check upstairs—”

I try to move, but can’t.

I attempt to shake my arm, move my wrist, wave my hand, twitch a finger—nothing. I push at my tongue to twist in my open mouth, or force up a word, but all that leaves my tight throat is a choking croak.

Panicked, I glance around, tears welling up. What’s happening? Am I sick? Is this what having a stroke feels like?

I beg my mouth to make the shape of Summer’s name so she can help me, but all I can manage is the smallest broken whimper.

“It’s okay, Teagan, everything’s fine.”

Summer comes into view, her face drawn and…I squint to better understand what I’m seeing. A weird wet bead floats above her pointer finger, connected to a taut piece of thread coming from a small incision in her flesh. It almost looks like blood, but that makes no sense. None of this makes sense.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, I just…I need this to work, and I was scared you’d panic and hurt yourself.”

Inside, I’m screaming and struggling at invisible bonds; on the outside, I’m a statue.

“This won’t hurt…” Summer’s gaze drops, eyes squeezing shut as if in pain. “I will be as gentle as I can, okay?” When Summer looks up again, I startle, my breathing coming out in short, erratic bursts.

Her eyes are…

Her eyes are black. Circled in a red rim of light, like staring into an eclipse.

“I have to open a type of door to get somewhere. Somewhere not in this realm. Normally it involves a death, but—”

A strangled cry leaves my paralysed chest, and I try to fight back. Try to thrash out of whatever is holding me in place, throat working and tears streaming down my face. But I’m trapped!

“Calm down. Please, please, please, Teagan, I’m not going to kill you! I would never, okay? I’m going to use my blood and some of yours, and it’ll get the door open.”

Fear slices through me, and I double my efforts. But whatever Summer’s done has me trapped.

“You love Kai, right?” A tear runs down Summer’s cheek. “I loved my family, too. But they were taken. Killed. By the Demon King, and I need—” she flashes her teeth, biting down on her words like they’re tough meat she’s trying to rip apart, “I need to destroy him for what he did. You would do the same for Kai, right? For Thomas?”

I want to scream at her. Fuck you, never say their fucking names, don’t even think them! I only manage to hiss out some spittle.

Her lips press together, Summer’s face transforming into a serious mask. “Let’s get this done fast. I can’t imagine that’s comfortable.”

She drops her bag down with a thud, and the moment she unzips it, a disgusting grey leather-bound book, so large I’m surprised it even fits inside, floats out to hover in front of her, opening wide like a hungry mouth.

Horror and tears choke my throat, and the only thing that can escape this nightmare is a raspy sound that scrapes against the soft tissue as it leaves my throat.