Ep. 29 Don't Trust Part 3

The dream came like a static-filled transmission, urgent but broken.

"Don't trust—" The name dissolved into mental static, leaving me grasping at shadows. Ryan's face swam before me, distorted with desperation covered in darkness. His features were twisted with urgency as he tried again: "Don't trust—"

Who? Don't trust who? My mind screamed the questions, but my dream-self could only watch helplessly.

"Ryan? What are you trying to tell me?"

"—inside—" The word pierced through the interference like a knife, but everything else remained fragmented. Ryan's frustration mounted visibly, his face contorting as he began to shout, each word hammering against my consciousness:

"DON'T TRUST— DON'T TRUST— DON'T TRUST—"

I jolted awake with such force it felt as if Ryan himself had reached through the veil of sleep and yanked me back to consciousness. My heart thundered against my ribs as I oriented myself in the darkness of our shared room. Through the window, not even starlight penetrated the absolute blackness of the night. Across the room, Rowan and Maya slumbered peacefully, their steady breathing the only sound disturbing the midnight silence.

I tried to settle back into bed, to dismiss the dream as nothing more than nocturnal nonsense, but an insidious feeling of dread had taken root in my chest. It wrapped around my lungs like poisonous ivy, making each breath feel restricted and uncertain. After several minutes of lying there, watching shadows dance across the ceiling, I knew sleep would remain elusive until I proved to myself that everything was fine.

With the careful precision of a cat burglar, I eased myself out of bed. The ancient wooden floorboards were my enemies now, each one a potential betrayal waiting to creak and announce my movement. I placed each foot with deliberate slowness, testing my weight before committing to each step. The door hinges, mercifully, remained silent as I slipped into the cabin's main living space.

That's when I heard it—muffled voices carrying through the walls from outside. My blood ran cold as I recognized one of them as Ms. Vera's. Moving on instinct, I crept toward the window, staying low. Just enough of my head cleared the windowsill to allow me to peer out into the night.

Ms. Vera stood in the clearing, her rigid posture suggesting tension. She was speaking to the same mysterious figure I'd glimpsed on our first night here—a shape that seemed to drink in the darkness around it, making it hard to focus on its exact form. I'd never asked her about that night, and she'd never volunteered an explanation, despite knowing I'd seen them. The mutual silence had spoken volumes.

Straining my ears, I caught fragments of their conversation. The shadowy figure's voice carried an edge of barely contained fury.

"She's too dangerous, Vera. You said you would control her, but we both know there's no controlling that."

Ms. Vera's response came sharp and immediate: "I can control her. I will control her."

The shadow moved closer, and the air itself seemed to grow heavier, more oppressive. "No, you can't. Her mana is unstable and explosive, and her potential is ridiculous. She's a danger to the vessel and the order—we can't allow her to live to reach her potential."

Vessel? Order? The words meant nothing to me, but they carried the weight of terrible significance. Before I could process them, Ms. Vera's next words sent ice through my veins.

"Maya is just a girl, a girl with a bright future. You can't ask me for this."

Maya? They were talking about Maya? The same Maya who slept peacefully just rooms away, unaware that her fate was being decided in whispers and shadows?

The figure's response came like a death sentence: "Girl or not, she's still a danger that must be snuffed out. I gave you a chance with her, but she's too strong. This is a direct order, Vera. Kill her. Fail to complete this mission, and you will be punished. Do you understand me?"

I watched Ms. Vera's face, praying to see defiance, resistance—anything but the resignation that slowly settled over her features. "I understand," she said, her voice hollow.

The shadow vanished as if it had never existed, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts. I didn't understand half of what I'd witnessed, but one truth blazed clear as day: Maya was in danger, and we needed to run. Now.

I spun around, ready to race back to our room—and froze. Ms. Vera towered over me, her presence filling the space like a physical force. I'd always found her intimidating, but this was different. This was primal fear, the kind that turns your bones to water and your breath to ice.

"What are you doing up, child?" she asked, her eyes boring into mine with an intensity that threatened to strip away every secret I'd ever held.

The night suddenly felt very, very long.