CHAPTER 37: A PAST ABODE

  Suryel stared at the floor.

  The ivory beneath her feet gleamed too brightly, polished to a sheen that reflected light without warmth.

  The surface caught the faintest shadow of her form, distorted and elongated, like something stretched thin.

  She focused on it deliberately, eyes fixed downward, as if the act of not looking might hold her together.

  Her shoulders were tight, wound but not rigid.

  Her breathing came shallow and uneven, the kind that never quite reached the ribs.

  Her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides, trembling just enough to betray her, not enough to demand attention.

  Helel noticed anyway.

  He always did.

  His hands came down on her shoulders, firm and immediate, fingers spread wide as if to anchor her in place.

  The pressure was solid, deliberate, grounding.

  Not gentle, but not cruel either.

  He leaned forward, further lowering himself into her line of sight, invading her carefully constructed distance.

  “Suryel.” He said. His voice was low. Commanding.

  A note of steel beneath the concern.

  She didn’t look up.

  “You’re here.” He continued. “You’re safe. But I need you to tell me now.”

  The words were clipped, purposeful.

  No room for evasion.

  No softness she could hide behind.

  Her throat worked and ached as she swallowed.

  Her eyes shimmered, glassy, tears threatening but refusing to fall.

  She clenched her jaw, muscles locking as if sheer force might keep the memories from spilling out.

  “No more hiding.” Helel said, his grip tightening almost imperceptibly. “No more waiting.”

  His thumb pressed lightly against her shoulder, grounding, insistent.

  “You’re not alone anymore.” He went on. “You don’t have to be scared of your own memories. I’m here, you don’t have to face it on your own.”

  The fierceness in his voice flared, but it was threaded through with something else. Something raw. Protective. A promise edged with threat, as if he were daring the world itself to challenge him on her behalf.

  “I am not scared!” Suryel whispered, she struggled to remove his hands, weakly.

  The words barely existed.

  A breath pretending to be a sentence.

  “Really?” Helel’s eyes narrowed.

  “I can’t carry it for you if you refuse to tell me.” He shot back.

  His hands slid upward, framing her face, forcing her to acknowledge him whether she wanted to or not. “Do you understand?”

  His gaze burned into hers. “I need to hear everything. Now.”

  Something snapped.

  Her eyes flew up, and whatever fragility had lived there was drowned instantly by heat. Rage surged, sharp and sudden, washing the tears away before they could fall.

  “This is all your fault!” Suryel shouted.

  She slapped his hand away with force, the sound cracking through the air between them. “I should be up and reviewing for an exam. Not stuck here!”

  The words detonated, uncontrolled and jagged, ricocheting off the walls.

  Helel barely had time to react before she turned and ran.

  Her wails tore through the corridor as her feet skidded against the polished stone.

  She took the turn too fast, nearly slipping, breath hitching violently as she fled down the adjacent passage.

  “What— Suryel, wait!” Helel broke into a sprint, shock and panic colliding in his chest.

  “Stay away from me!” She screamed over her shoulder. “Leave me alone!”

  Her voice echoed wildly, bouncing off the walls, multiplying itself until it felt like the corridor was screaming with her.

  A heavy door slammed shut somewhere ahead.

  Helel skidded to a stop, boots scraping against stone.

  His chest heaved as he sucked in air, eyes darting wildly as recognition settled in.

  This corridor.

  He knew the place.

  His gaze flicked past his own door, relief flooding through him so abruptly it nearly buckled his knees.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “She must have ran to her own Abode.” He muttered.

  He was already moving again.

  He reached her door in seconds, raising his hand to knock.

  He hesitated.

  Just a fraction too long.

  Then he rapped once, softer than he felt, and pulled the door open slowly, palms braced against the frame as if preparing for impact.

  “Suryel?” He called. “It’s me. I’m coming in.”

  The room was empty.

  The realization hit like a blow to the chest.

  She wasn’t there.

  “No way.” He breathed. “What— I was wrong?”

  His head whipped side to side.

  He scanned the room, frantic, checking corners, alcoves, shadows.

  Nothing.

  The silence pressed in on him, thick and accusing.

  “WHERE IS SHE?!” He shouted.

  He turned too fast, stumbled, his palm slapping against the cold floor as he caught himself from falling.

  For a moment, he stayed there, half-kneeling, breath ragged.

  When he looked up, the corridor seemed impossibly tall.

  The blue-lit path stretched endlessly in both directions, doors blurring into sameness.

  Panic flared, white-hot.

  This had happened before.

  Too close.

  Too familiar.

  Where would he even start?

  Then it clicked.

  There was only one other place she ever ran to.

  One place she held closer to his heart than her own.

  Helel was already moving.

  He didn’t bother holding the door this time.

  It slammed hard against the wall as he burst into his abode, the impact echoing sharply through the space.

  He froze and inhaled.

  Three slow steps carried him forward.

  His heartbeat roared in his ears as his eyes locked onto the single armchair positioned with its back to the door, facing his worktable.

  “This is the only place.” He whispered, more to himself than to the room.

  Relief crashed through him so hard his vision swam.

  “There you are, Suryel…” He exhaled. “You used to always run here.”

  Suryel was curled into the chair, drawn tight into herself, knees hugged to her chest. She looked impossibly small there, swallowed by the furniture meant for someone larger.

  Starlight filtered softly through the space, catching in her hair, outlining her silhouette in pale glow.

  Something in Helel’s chest twisted painfully.

  “And sit there… like that.” He added quietly, rubbing a hand down his face as he sank to the floor beside the table, his back resting against its leg. “Every time.”

  He stayed there, cataloging her, the tension in her posture.

  The way her breathing slowly evened.

  How her fingers dug into the fabric of the chair, as if afraid it might vanish.

  “While I worked over here…” He murmured, glancing up at the table, then closing his eyes for a moment.

  His fingers twitched, betraying the instinct to reach for her.

  He stopped himself.

  “I thought I lost you again.” Helel whispered with a pained smile.

  She shifted slightly, resting her head against her knees.

  Her gaze lifted, finding his face.

  Guilt flickered across her expression.

  “I’m sorry.” Suryel said quietly. “I know you asked me not to, I didn’t mean to run.”

  “Did I scare you?” Helel asked, his eyes dropped to her knuckles, remembering the shattered wall. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head without looking up. “No. It was the Shade.”

  Her gaze drifted around the room, taking in the familiar lines. “I remember this place.”

  Helel didn’t interrupt, hoping she’d go on.

  “I saw a child come out from here.”

  She continued softly. “She was happy. Bright. She looked loved.”

  “Flowers braided in her hair. She was skipping, humming.”

  Her voice faltered. “I followed her, at first she couldn’t see me.”

  “I was the only one who knew we were together.”

  She swallowed. “Then, she met someone.”

  She buried her face in her knees. “They talked about…. something... I tried to warn her.”

  “She didn’t hear me.” Her breath shuddered. “And the Shade… Samael. He carried her. Dropped her through the door like it was a garbage chute.”

  A bitter laugh escaped her.

  “And he didn’t forget to put the rug back.”

  Helel’s hands clenched until his knuckles ached.

  He watched as she mimicked the motion, flattening an invisible rug, wiping something in a familiar motion with her hand.

  His jaw locked.

  “How am I supposed to feel now, Helel?” She asked, palm turning upward helplessly. “I can’t wake up. I miss my family.”

  “I’m scared, yes.” She leaned back slightly, exhaustion settling deep into her bones. “But I’m also angry.”

  Her eyes met his. “This nightmare started with you.” She said quietly. “Because you did something to me. You were warned.”

  Helel flinched.

  “Then my… Memories kept flashing…” She went on, voice growing heavier. “That’s how I found this chair.”

  She tapped the armrest lightly. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.” Her voice dropped. “I miss Yael. I… want to wake up.”

  Silence filled the room.

  He noticed that her leg stopped moving.

  Helel rose quietly to check on her, heart thudding before he sighed in relief, almost thinking of the worst.

  She had just fallen asleep.

  He retrieved a discarded blanket and draped it over her curled form with careful hands.

  She breathed evenly now, face softened in sleep.

  He returned to his chair, sitting across the table, fingers interlaced as he watched her.

  In the dark familiarity of his abode, he planned.

  Suryel stirred.

  The blanket slipped.

  His gaze caught on the embroidered triangle patterns woven into the fabric.

  He leaned forward, resting an arm on the table.

  “Oh! Could it be?” Helel murmured softly.

  “Is that where we are?”

  Author’s Note:

  Yes.

  Helel panicking to find his cat.

  The cat is a black void named Suryel.