4. Violet

4

VIOLET

Amara and I continue with meditation and basic exercises to help me connect with my Morgana abilities. I practice visualising and directing my energy, managing to light a few candles and make small objects float. It's exhilarating but also mentally exhausting.

As evening turns to night, there's a knock at the door. Caine, Flint and Thorne enter, looking apprehensive.

"How's it going?" Caine asks.

"Pretty wild," I admit. "I can make things float, and set stuff on fire, which is both awesome and slightly terrifying."

Thorne grins. "Just wait until you see what else you can do. But first, we need to do the re-creation ritual to pinpoint the exact time you were turned. Are you up for it?"

I nod. "Yeah, but what about classes?"

"Blackthorne has excused us, although he's reaching with that one. Classes don't start again until tomorrow after everything that has happened," Flint says.

"Okay, so where do we do this? Are we going to be allowed to go to the field where we were going to before?"

"No," Caine says. "It's not safe. Blackthorne has told us we can use the training hall."

I frown. "Will it be big enough?"

"You tell us," Thorne says and holds out his hand for me to rise.

I take it, and he pulls me up, a wicked smile on his luscious lips.

"Only you know how far you ran that night," he murmurs.

"Okay, let's go. I want to get this over with so we can move forward." I wave to Amara, who leaves the room with us but goes in the opposite direction. Thorne leads me down the stairs and out into the courtyard, which is still slightly messy from the explosion, but at least the buildings are fixed. I stare in amazement, barely able to comprehend the level of magick used to rebuild the old Academy.

"It heals itself," Flint pipes up, seeing my awe.

"What?" I ask, mouth agape. "It fixed itself?"

"Well, it probably had a helping hand with some handy speed magick, but yeah, basically."

"Fuck," I mutter, suddenly feeling insignificant with my candles and floating books.

We make our way to the training hall, a large open space with high, vaulted ceilings and smooth stone floors. I take in the expansive room, mentally calculating if it will be big enough to recreate my frantic run that fateful night.

"This should work, but I won't really know until we get through it. So how exactly does this ritual go?"

Thorne explains: "Caine and Flint will use their magick to create an illusion of that night. You'll relive the experience, but safely within the confines of this room. We'll be able to track your movements and pinpoint the exact moment of your turning. I suggest, as a first trial run, you walk it so we can see if anything needs to be adjusted or if we need a bigger space."

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "Okay. How will you know what Millbrook looks like?"

"Like this." Flint holds up a map of Millbrook. "We have the basics. The spell works off your memories, though, so as you enter the arena, it should all look as you remember it."

"Arena?" I croak.

He grins. "Pretty much. You got the list?"

"I do," Caine states, pulling it out of his pocket to hand to me.

I take it with a shaky hand and glance down at it. Suddenly, my mind has gone blank. I can't remember what my hometown looks like, or which way I ran when I left the house.

"Calm down," Thorne says when I turn my wild gaze to his. "You are overthinking it."

I nod frantically, trying to still my thoughts.

Caine and Flint take up positions in opposite corners, diagonally from each other in the vast space. Thorne stands next to me, my guide, my anchor.

"Close your eyes," Thorne instructs gently. "Think back to that night. Remember how you felt, what you saw, heard, smelled."

I do as he says, letting the memories wash over me. The fear, the confusion, the pain...

Suddenly, I feel a shift in the air around me. When I open my eyes, I'm no longer in the training hall. Instead, I'm back in the house, staring at my dead parents.

I gulp back the noise of horror and guilt.

The illusion is incredibly vivid.

Thorne's breath hitches when he sees what I see, and then I scream, seeing Nathaniel, blood dripping from his mouth. "What happens next?" Thorne asks.

"I run."

"Okay, but remember, walk it through this time."

I nod, trying not to launch myself forward to the front door of the terraced house where I lived.

Instead, I take a shaky step towards the front door, my hand trembling as I reach for the handle. The cool metal against my palm feels startlingly real.

"I burst out onto the street," I whisper. "It's raining. Hard."

I feel the first drops of water hitting my skin. The illusion is so complete I can smell the damp pavement.

"Which way do you go?" Thorne asks gently.

"Left," I say, turning down the familiar street. "I'm running, but I'll walk for now. The rain is getting heavier."

I move forward, describing each turn, each landmark as I pass it. The quaint shops with their hand-painted signs, usually so charming, now seem sinister in the darkness.

"I'm heading towards the park," I explain, my pace quickening involuntarily. "I think I hear something behind me."

Thorne nods encouragingly. "What do you do?"

"I look back," I say, turning my head. For a moment, I expect to see Nathaniel's terrifying figure, but there's nothing there. Just rain and shadows. "I don't see anything, but I know he's there. I can feel it."

We continue like this, me walking through the events of that night, describing every detail I can remember. The squelch of mud under my feet as I enter the park, the way branches seem to grab at my clothes, the moment I stumble and fall.

As we approach the crucial moment, I falter, but Thorne's encouragement keeps me going. "I get up," I say, my voice shaking. "I turn to run again, and that's when..."

I trail off as the illusion shifts, and suddenly, there he is. Nathaniel, looking exactly as he did that night, his eyes glittering with cruel amusement.

"The church clock," Thorne prompts. "When did it chime?"

I close my eyes, trying to remember. "Oh, fuck. Sorry, yeah. It chimed midnight just before I entered the park."

"Good. What happens next?"

I swallow hard, forcing myself to continue. "He grabs me. He's so strong. I try to scream, but he covers my mouth."

As I describe the final moments, I can almost feel Nathaniel's grip on me, his breath on my neck. When I get to the moment of the bite, I falter.

"It's okay," Thorne says softly. "You're safe. It's just a memory."

I nod, taking a deep breath. "He bites me. The pain is indescribable, and then everything starts to fade. The last thing I remember is thinking about my unfinished painting..."

The illusion fades away as I finish recounting the events, leaving us back in the training hall. I'm shaking, but I'm okay. I know this was a dummy run, and when I have to do the real thing, it will be way worse.

Thorne puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. "You did well, Violet. That couldn't have been easy."

Caine and Flint approach, both looking concerned, but I speak before they can say anything.

"So this place is big enough, but we need to go again. This time, I need to do it as it was."

Thorne nods and pulls a stopwatch from his pants pocket. "Are you ready for that now?"

I nod. We're one step closer to breaking Nathaniel's hold on me. "Fuck. Yes. "

"From the top then," Caine says and goes back to his corner.

I watch him for a moment, eyes closed as he chants, and then we are back in the terraced house with my dead parents at my feet.

I scramble with the door handle as Nathaniel turns to me, his mouth covered in my parents' blood. I lunge out into the night. The rain starts—a single, cold drop on my cheek that quickly becomes a downpour.

"Run, Violet," Thorne murmurs. "Just like that night."

Nodding as I take off, my flip-flopped feet splashing through forming puddles. The streets of Millbrook are familiar as I run, the shops and houses blurring past. The rain soaks through my cardie, plastering my purple hair to my face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I pant, the words escaping between ragged breaths. My lungs burn, the cool air like needles in my chest. I try not to use my vampire speed to dart off. It defeats the object of this re-creation. But it's hard. With Nathaniel on my tail, it's fucking hard not to vanish into the night.

I tear through the empty streets, every shadow is menacing, every sound a potential threat. The narrow roads feel like a closing trap. I wipe rain and hair from my face with trembling hands, eyes darting wildly.

The church clock strikes midnight, making me jump. I veer off the main road into Millbrook Park, where the antique lamps cast eerie shadows that seem to reach for me .

"Good, good. That's good, Violet." Thorne's voice comes at me from a distance, even though he is right next to me, keeping pace as he starts his countdown.

I weave between trees, branches scratching at my face. Suddenly, a snap behind me sounds like a gunshot. I whirl around, heart freezing. Is that movement in the shadows?

I retreat slowly, then my foot catches on a root. I stumble, arms windmilling.

"Shit!"

I hit the ground hard, breath knocked from my lungs. Rain patters on my face as I gasp like a landed fish.

Get up! Get up, you idiot!

I scramble to my feet, covered in mud. Every muscle screams as I force myself forward. I turn to dash for the park exit, and slam into a solid wall of flesh. I stumble back, a strangled cry escaping me. My eyes travel up, taking in expensive shoes, crisp white shirt, tailored suit. Until finally, the face that makes my blood run cold.

"No," I whimper, backing away. My foot catches on something, and I nearly stumble again, only just keeping my balance. "Please, no."

Nathaniel smiles, revealing too-sharp teeth. "No?" he says, voice smooth as silk and cold as ice. "You don't have a choice, little flower. You are owed to me."

I shake my head frantically. "I don't know you!"

He moves inhumanly fast, hand clamping over my mouth. "No one will hear you," he whispers, breath ghosting my ear. "No one will come to save you. You're mine, Violet. You've always been mine."

I struggle against his iron grip, nails scraping uselessly against his skin.

This isn't happening. This can't be happening.

But it is.

Nathaniel yanks my head to the side, exposing my neck. Pain flares in my scalp, tears springing to my eyes.

"No, please," I beg through sobs. "I don't want to die."

He chuckles, the sound vibrating through his chest. "Oh, my sweet Violet. Who said anything about dying?"

Moonlight glints off gleaming fangs. The pain explodes in my neck, white-hot and all-consuming. I scream, the sound echoing through the empty park.

The world fades, my struggles weaken, limbs heavy as lead.

I think of my unfinished painting. The swirls of blue and green, the flecks of gold leaf I wanted to add. I'll never complete it now...

Suddenly, the illusion shatters. I'm on my knees in the training hall, gasping and shaking. Thorne kneels beside me, his hand on my shoulder.

"It's over, Violet," he says softly. "You're safe."

I nod, unable to speak, hated tears mingling with illusory raindrops on my cheeks.