Hekate’s Bride

It would seem the whole school wishes to witness the moment I get “suspended”. Students are loitering about the hallways, rather than heading to the cafeteria for dinner.

They’re watching. Waiting for ‘The Door’ to be opened.

Funny how I didn’t go through any door when I got dumped here. The Goddess sure has a wonderful sense of humour.

“It’s only two weeks. I’ll be back before you know it,” I say, squeezing Dar’s fingers reassuringly, but his frown remains.Property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

His golden eyes shift to the doors behind me and his features tighten even further. “That’s a damn long time.”

I chuckle, punching his arm playfully. “Don’t go all broody on me. I’ll be back soon.”

His breath escapes in a sigh, a gentle breeze that stirs the air between us. Fingers, tender and warm, find their way to my cheek, cradling it with care. A feather-light kiss grace my skin, igniting a delicate dance of sensations within me and my toes curl in my favoured black boots. “I need you here soon, Astrid, and though I have no idea why you did that today, I’m here, whenever you wish to talk about it. All of it.”

I didn’t tell him about earlier. Why I’d punched Rune. He didn’t ask either. He had found me packing up a few in my room and hugged me without blaming me or scolding me.

I have the best boyfriend in the realm.

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t share the sentiment.

“Thank you,” I whisper, swallowing the painful lump in my throat as I pull back.

“Blackwood.”

The hallway falls silent and Darian squeezes back on my fingers as I start to let go. “I’ll see you soon.”

Darian nods and swoops in for a quick kiss that leaves me breathless and smiling like an idiot.

I pivot away then, striding toward Vesper. Glancing toward the door that gives way to the portal brings back memories of that night with Rune. I wonder if when this is opened, there will be darkness behind it too.

Heat digs into my back and I look back, at the crowd. Only one person’s stare feels like a brand for me.

But I don’t find him in the throng that stares back at me.

I start to look away when something moves in the corner of my vision. By the stairwell.

There’s no one there when I look though. I hate that I feel disappointed. He could at least show up since I’m getting suspended because of him.

As I approach the towering double door, an electric current of power reverberates through the air, growing in intensity with each step. The dormant portal concealed behind the imposing threshold awakens, its ethereal presence beckoning to me. A sense of déjà vu envelops my senses, intertwining fear and curiosity in a delicate dance. Uncertainty lingers, casting shadows upon my path, as I contemplate whether to yield to the allure of the unknown.

It’s the same voice, calling to me, for me.

And again, I reach for the door with my hands, unable to stop myself.

“Blackwood, step away from the door. It isn’t time yet,” Vesper is saying, but the etchings on the iron door have come alive under my fingertips, and ever so slowly, the doors give.

The air cackles with energy and a palpable pull tugs at my very core. It is all that exists for me, ripping me of my thoughts on who I am, where I am, what I am.

“Astrid,” a feminine voice so beautiful, it might have been the Goddess herself speaking to me calls out.

And I answer. Again.

I suddenly feel an intense surge, like an invisible arm grabbing a hold of me and hurling me forward.

Tingling sensations course through my veins, as if the very essence of my being is being rewoven in the cosmic tapestry of this place that shouldn’t be.

Shattered to bits and falling through time and space, I cannot tell where I end and where I begin.

Within the portal’s embrace, whispers of ancient secrets brush against my senses, teasing me with glimpses of uncharted landscapes and untold wonders.

I wish to see them, to explore, and like the Goddess knows what I am thinking, I am wrenched into a place, a time.

Suddenly, I am standing in what looks like a bedroom. It isn’t mine. Judging from the walls that are adorned with soft hues of gold and royal blue, it isn’t my father’s castle either.

Mother loves gold, but never on her walls.

I turn around, noting the grandeur and elegance of the space in which I stand. A sanctuary of opulence and regality that is fit for none but a queen.

At the heart of the room stands a magnificent four-poster bed, its intricately carved headboard reaching toward the heavens. Draped in sumptuous silk curtains that cascades to the floor in outdated fashion, the bed beckons with an irresistible allure. It reeks of musk and earth, a scent I recognize.

Gilded mirrors grace the walls, their surfaces reflecting the gentle glow of crystal chandeliers suspended from the ceiling.

Each mirror seems to hold a story, capturing the passage of time within its delicate frames. Embellished tapestries adorned the remaining wall space, depicting scenes of myth and legend that whispered of a rich and storied history that is long lost to the scholars of all realms.

Where am I, I think as I wobble to my feet, glancing between the ancient windows and the ashen door that seems just as old. Well, it looks new now but we’ve not used ash to make doors for nearly two millennia.

The door suddenly slams open and my heart thumbs with an almost painful force, like I have been caught in a place I shouldn’t be.

A woman walks in, holding up the folds of her resplendent gown crafted with meticulous detail and luxurious fabric. It drapes gracefully from her shoulders, cascading down in rich layers of silk and velvet, creating a mesmerising interplay of… frankly, it’s something even my ancestors would consider too much to wear.

A tight frown is plastered on her face and her lips are drawn in a firm line. “And if he will not let me out, I will cast myself out the window and perhaps, he might bring in my broken, dead body and mate with it.”

A lock slips from her rich red hair as she breezes past me, clicking her tongue softly in annoyance.

I frown. “Hey.”

No reaction. She just storms toward the window and rams her fist into it, shattering it.

“I do not think that wise, Your Grace,” a middle-aged woman walks in after her, skipping as she does. “He will most certainly do that.”

Can they not see me, I wonder, staring down at my form. Hell, where is this? Where am I? And why does this look like some play from eons ago? The furniture, the tapestries, the hairdos that have gone out of style for Goddess knows how long and… who wears corsets and baskets these days?

“No matter,” the female says, raising the voluminous skirt of her gown as she settles a foot over the windowsill. “I would rather have my life taken from me than wed that monster of a man.”

“Jump then.”

I jump. We all do. Myself, the woman and the maid attending her. I hadn’t noticed him there. Neither had they. I crane my neck to have a look at the male and my heart stops for a moment.

It is in the way he stands; the power, the sickening aura that has my knees wobbling, begging to submit. It is in his wicked, unforgiving eyes, that stupid shade of green that hunts my nights and days. His moonlight hair, cropped shorter than I have ever seen it, to frame his chiseled face, adds an ethereal touch to his striking appearance. Each strand seems to shimmer with its own natural glow, as if kissed by the moon’s soft light, even if sunlight blazes throughout the room.

Behind me, the maid falls into a bow that almost has her forehead touching to the ground. “Your Maj–”

“Leave us.” His voice is a soft melody that resonates within, but the power in that one word is unmistakable.

The woman jerks and I have never seen anyone flee so fast, leaving the escaping woman and…

Rune.

He takes even unhurried steps towards me and I cannot breathe fast enough, shuffling back so fast, I trip on my own feet.

He walks past, unable to see me as well.

What sort of sick joke is this? My fingers tremble and I pant, glancing around in a daze. What is this place? Why is Rune here and more importantly, why am I here?

How do I leave?

Fear creeps slowly into my mind as I consider the possibility of being lost in the countless, endless time loop the portal offers.

Why does it always have to be me?