Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

Thunder crashed overhead, the sound so violent it sent vibrations through the entire manor. I felt the tremors in my bones, my teeth rattling as the ancient structure groaned around us.

Nausea roiled within me, and my body broke out in a frigid sheen.

The moment of truth had arrived.

Grady and Scott weren't the only ones I had to come clean with. In fact, they might have been the easier ones. The real challenge lay before me now, gleaming in the dim light. The Mirror of Aethereal. I didn't want it to punish us because of my mistake. The consequences were too dire to contemplate.

It was too chaotic in the main room with Justice, Damon, and Garrick shouting orders, so I took my backpack to my bedroom. Outside was still thunderous, but it was quieter in my room.

With trembling hands, I reached for the mirror.

I braced myself for disappointment and possible retribution as my fingers wrapped around the golden handle. The metal was cool to the touch, but it seemed to warm unnaturally fast as if responding to my grip. The ornate designs etched into its surface pressed into my palm, a tactile reminder of the power I held.

The air grew thick and heavy, charged with an otherworldly energy that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Mirror of Aethereal," I whispered. "I apologize. I have failed." The words tasted bitter on my tongue, each syllable a struggle to voice. "My team and I were betrayed by a team member. Maci has the Crown of Envy. The fault lies with me. Please don't punish us."

My heart pounded so hard I could feel it in my throat.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the glass face of the mirror rippled like a river disturbed by a strong wind. It shimmered and swirled, mesmerizing in its fluid dance.

I leaned in closer, drawn in by the mirror's ethereal display.

A voice emanated from the mirror, not quite out loud. It was more like thoughts materializing directly in my mind. "Justice is slowly dying," it intoned. "The Heartstone amulet didn't cure him."

The temperature in the room plummeted, my breath visible in small, panicked puffs.

"You have but one chance to correct your mistake," the mirror continued, its message both a lifeline and a burden. "Seek out the Sands of Yesteryear hourglass. It is a portal that can take you back in time. But you can only use it once, and you'll be able to save two lives. Choose which point in time wisely."

A spark of hope ignited in my chest, small but fierce, battling against the crushing hammer of guilt and fear. Did this mean I could not only stop Maci from getting the Crown of Envy but save both Justice and Brody?

The mirror's surface stilled, returning to its normal reflective state, and I stared at my own reflection. Pale, wide-eyed, the gravity of our situation etched into every line of my face. The path ahead was fraught with danger. The Sands of Yesteryear hourglass. My last hope, my only chance to set things right.

I frowned, my brow furrowing as I stared into the now-silent mirror. "Where is the Sands of Yesteryear?" My tone betrayed desperation and frustration.

But the mirror didn't answer. Its surface remained stubbornly still, reflecting only my own troubled face back at me. It was as if it were giving me the silent treatment for my mistake, a cosmic punishment for my failure. Or maybe, I realized with a sinking feeling, the answer was clear. I had to discover this on my own. The thought was terrifying but oddly empowering.

I was still lost in contemplation when a sharp knock jolted me back to reality. "Sawyer," Garrick called from outside my door. "What happened?"

I took a deep breath to steady myself and crossed the room in a few quick strides. My hand hesitated on the doorknob before I wrenched it open, coming face to face with Garrick's concerned expression.

"The mirror said we need to find the Sands of Yesteryear hourglass to save Justice," I blurted, the words tumbling from my lips in a rush. I searched his face, hoping for a glimmer of recognition, a sign that this impossible task might not be so impossible after all. "Have you ever heard of it?"

The change in Garrick's demeanor was instantaneous and chilling. His eyes darkened like storm clouds gathering on the horizon. A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I could almost see the memories flashing through his head, none of them pleasant.

"I have," he finally replied. "It's in a dangerous place in the Unseelie realm."

Memories of our last venture into the Unseelie realm battered me, leaving a bad taste in my mouth. The ever-shifting landscapes, the whispers in the shadows, the constant feeling of being watched—it all came rushing back.

"How dangerous?" I asked, though part of me already knew the answer. My fingers tightened on the doorframe, bracing for his response.

Garrick's eyes met mine, a grim understanding passing between us. "You remember what it was like," he told me. "But this is different. The Sands of Yesteryear are in a part of the realm we've never dared to explore."

I nodded slowly, recalling the map we'd seen in the Seelie queen's court. There had been areas marked with warnings, places even the Unseelie feared to tread.

"It's in the Forgotten Hollows," Garrick continued, his expression darkening. "A place where time itself is said to unravel."

His words crushed me. Our last trip to the Unseelie realm had been perilous enough, and we'd stayed in the "safer" areas. The thought of venturing into a place that even the Unseelie feared shot an icy bolt of terror through my heart.

"But we have no choice, do we?" I replied, more a statement than a question.

Garrick shook his head. "For Justice, for all of us, we have to try. But Sawyer," he warned. "We'll need to be more careful than ever. The rules we learned last time? They might not apply where we're going."

I nodded as determination and dread settled in my chest. We'd survived the Unseelie realm once, but this would be a whole new challenge. The Sands of Yesteryear awaited us in the Forgotten Hollows and, with it, our only chance to save Justice and set things right.

Garrick stared into the distance as if he were living another time. " Extremely careful," he emphasized. "Or we'll never come back at all."

Boom-boom-boom.

I jumped at the sudden, explosive noise that shattered the tense silence. It sounded like gunshots but sharper, more electric. My heart leaped into my throat, panic pumping through my veins.

"You'd better get in here," Damon cried from somewhere in the manor, his voice tight with urgency and a hint of fear.

Garrick and I exchanged a quick, worried glance before springing into action. We ran out of my bedroom, our footsteps thundering on the old wooden floor. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly before us, shadows dancing on the walls as we raced toward the living room.

We burst in, and I nearly collided with Damon. He was a statue of barely contained energy, as formidable as a crouching tiger. His gaze was fixed on something beyond the window, and when I followed it, my blood ran cold.

Damon gestured with his head, a quick, jerky movement. "Lightning struck the porch," he explained, his words coming out in a rushed whisper. "Blinded us for a second, and those dudes appeared out of nowhere."

I blinked, trying to process what I was seeing. Three tall, muscular men stood on the deck, their postures unnaturally still. At first glance, they looked like businessmen from the city. Crisp suits, polished shoes, an air of corporate efficiency. But as my eyes adjusted, I noticed something that made my skin crawl.

Their eyes. Pitch black, like pools of oil, reflecting no light. No whites, no irises, only an endless void that seemed to swallow all hope.

The air around the figures seemed to shimmer as if reality was distorting in their presence. The wooden boards of the porch creaked beneath their feet despite their statue-like stillness. A faint smell of ozone and something else, something ancient and wrong, wafted through the cracked window.

"What are they?" I whispered, afraid even the slightest sound might provoke them.

Garrick's voice was low and tense when he replied. "Trouble," he said simply. "Big trouble."

The planes of Justice's face hardened, his eyes gleaming with the cold calculation of an apex predator. "Obviously, they're demons. Some of Maci's Seven Deadly Sins demons, though we don't know which ones."

As if in response to his words, one of the figures slowly turned its head toward us. Its movement was too smooth, too precise to be human. A smile spread across its face, revealing slightly too-sharp teeth.

Acquiring the Sands of Yesteryear had suddenly become urgent. Something about those guys made my skin crawl.

"Listen, everyone." I tried to get my team's attention, my voice tighter and sharper than I had intended. "The Mirror of Aethereal revealed our next task. We have to go to the Unseelie realm and retrieve the Sands of Yesteryear."

Damon scowled. "What the hell is that? It sounds like something out of a Disney movie." His fingers drummed an agitated rhythm on his thigh.

"Hardly." Garrick glared. "It's in the Forgotten Hollows, a place not even the Unseelie like to tread."

Justice scrubbed his face, his complexion paling. "Seriously, we have to go back there?"

"Oh, come on, now." Damon spread his arms wide with mock cheerfulness, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "It will be a walk in the park. Like skipping through Mordor. How bad can it be?"

Zara dragged her fingers through her long red hair. "Bad. Real bad. Like the taste of wolfsbane bad."

Grady looked at us. "We need to avenge Brody."

I clasped his arm. "No. You don't know what those demons out there are."

He broke free of my grasp. "They killed my friend."

The tension in the room ratcheted up as Grady buckled his leather belt around his waist, the sound of metal clinking ominously. With a practiced motion, he pulled his sword from its sheath, the blade singing as it sliced through the air. His eyes blazed with fury as he growled, "Death to demons."

Scott raised his weapon above his head, the overhead lights glinting off its polished surface. "For Brody," he declared, his voice thick with emotion and barely contained rage.

"Wait." My words tumbled out in a desperate rush. "We don't even know what demons those are. It could be extremely?—"

But my warning was as effective as a substitute teacher trying to control an unruly classroom. Before I could finish, Grady and Scott were already in motion, charging out of the manor with reckless abandon. Their battle cries echoed, a cacophony of anger and vengeance.

The suited figures on the porch remained unnaturally still, their black eyes regarding Grady and Scott with detached interest. They looked at our friends as if they were insignificant insects, barely worth acknowledging.

Grady reached the nearest demon first, his sword arcing through the air in a deadly swing. But where the blade should have connected, suddenly, there was…nothing. The demon had vanished, reappearing in a blink behind Grady.

"Grady!" I cried. "Watch out!"

The demon's hand shot out, fingers brushing against Grady's shoulder with frightening speed. In an instant, Grady went limp, his body freezing mid-motion. His wide, surprised eyes stared blankly ahead, but he wasn't a statue. His skin had no stony texture. He simply…stopped.

Scott slashed wildly with his sword. The blade met air as the demon flickered out of existence, and Scott stumbled forward with the momentum of his missed strike.

"Where did he go?" Scott yelled, spinning frantically, his sword cutting angry arcs through the air.

I saw the danger materialize. "Behind you!" I screamed, pointing desperately. Yet, as the words left my mouth, I knew they were futile.

With graceful, almost lazy movements, the demon sidestepped Scott's wild slash. Its hand shot out, fingers grazing Scott's arm. In a heartbeat, Scott was frozen, his sword still above his head, his face an eerily still mask of determination.

Unlike Zara's sister, neither Grady nor Scott had turned to stone. They stood there, flesh and blood, but absolutely motionless. Their chests didn't rise and fall. Their eyes didn't blink. It seemed time itself had stopped for them, suspending them in that moment of action.

A deafening silence followed. Where moments ago had been the clash of metal and battle cries, now was only the soft whisper of the wind and my hammering heart. Grady and Scott stood like mannequins on the porch, victims of their own bravery and rashness.

The unnaturally calm demons turned their pitch-black eyes toward the house. Toward us. Our situation had gone from bad to World War III.