Chapter 37

37

TREYTON

I wake to music.

Soft, seductive music that tugs at something deep in my chest.

I hadn’t been sleeping. My mind refuses to shut down. All I can think about is—what could I have done differently?

The answer is obvious.

If I could go back in time, I would change just about everything.

No black virus.

No war.

The Treyton back then had been cocky and arrogant, confident in his role and prestige. He didn’t give a shit about the working class or the lower fae. When he wasn’t searching for the bottom of a bottle, he was in bed with a different female. That Treyton sought pleasure however he saw fit. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, no boundary he wouldn’t cross.

I wish I could change all of that.

It’s not just because of Kassandra. Yes, my mate certainly plays a part in all of this, but it’s not just because of her. I hate the male that I’ve become—I’ve hated him for a while, if I’m being completely honest. My self-guilt has been eating away at me like a corrosive acid. I don’t even recognize the carcass that remains.

Kassandra will never forgive me, and I can never forgive myself.

So where does that leave me?

Alone.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

The music continues to play, the soft notes drifting to me in the burrow.

Slowly, I venture out of the tiny cave and into the still night. I have no idea when it stopped raining, but the air is dry and stale. Moisture glistens on the leaves and tree branches, and the earth sinks beneath my feet.

That music…

I need to follow it.

The others are still asleep, but that’s okay. This journey isn’t meant for them.

I close my eyes and focus on the twinkling lullaby. But instead of lulling me to sleep, it energizes me, propels me forward. I move without conscious thought.

Twigs and leaves crackle beneath my feet, and I have a feeling that the Forest is angry at me for disturbing the tranquility. An almost malevolent presence hovers in the air.

But I don’t slow down.

I need to find the source of this music.

Farther and farther I walk. The music is almost deafening now, but I can’t see the source of it. The Forest is still and empty. There are no critters scuttling through the underbrush. No crickets chirping in the distance. No birds singing. No owls hooting. Just…silence. The absence of sound is more terrifying than anything else I’ve encountered so far.

I move in a daze towards the largest tree, where the music seems to be emitting from.

“She’ll never forgive you…” The raspy, insidious voice carries on the wind, surrounding me almost instantly.

I swear I hear it coming from all directions. To the side of me. Above me. Underneath me. It’s everywhere .

“She’ll never forgive me,” I whisper brokenly as the music continues to play and play and play.

I can’t tell what instrument it is, but it’s soft and melodic, the thrumming of strings combined with a discordant piano chord, out of tune and strangely hollow. It shouldn’t sound beautiful, yet it does—eerily so.

“She’ll hate you forever,” the voice continues in a sibilant hiss.

Once again, it seems to come from all directions, almost as if the trees themselves are whispering to me. Mocking me.

This is wrong.

The errant thought penetrates the mindless haze I’ve found myself in.

I shouldn’t be here.

Confusion jolts through me, though it's quickly replaced by peace once more.

The music plays on.

“You’re a monster. A failure. You don’t deserve to live.”

“I don’t deserve to live…”

Tall trees lean together overhead, their branches knotted. Through the tapestry, I catch a glimpse of the moon—large and white and brilliant. The sight of it stirs something within me.

A feeling, perhaps?

A premonition?

I shouldn’t be here.

A strange feeling arrows through me.

Why am I here?

How did I get here?

Why am I ? —?

“You need to die.”

I need to die.

I need to die.

I need to die.

I take a step closer, away from the trees, towards a clearing. Fog softens the edges of it and gives it an ominous, eerie look. A branch near the edge expands outwards into the center of the clearing.

And, connected to it, is a noose.

I need to die.

I need to die.

My breathing turns thready, and a different voice in the back of my head screams at me. But when I try to focus on what it’s saying, the music grows louder, drowning out every other sound.

I need to die.

I need to die.

Tears cascade down my cheeks when I think about Kassandra. My mate.

I failed her.

I failed her by simply existing.

“She’ll be better off without you around,” the voice declares.

“She’ll be better off without me around,” I repeat.

I can do this for her, can’t I? Sacrifice myself to save her? It’ll be the last good thing I’ll ever do.

Perhaps the only good thing.

A weight eases from my shoulders and slides down my arms. It feels as if I’m removing a heavy winter cloak.

I’m sorry, Kassandra.

I’m sorry for my past and the sins I committed.

I know you’ll never forgive me.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

With tears blinding my vision, I step up to the rope and settle the noose around my neck. Then the ground falls out from underneath me—or maybe the branch jerks upwards—and darkness paints my vision black.

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry.

I’m—