Chapter 30

  A JOURNEY THROUGH OPEN WOUNDS

  Cristina stopped in front of the door to Melody’s cabin. The dark wood, almost black, seemed to absorb the surrounding light, and the number 12A was carved unevenly, as if someone had engraved it with too much force… or too much anger. She took a breath and knocked softly.

  Silence.

  Just as she was about to turn away, the door opened with a harsh creak.

  Melody appeared before her wearing a two-piece lilac pajama set, her hair pulled into a messy bun. Her expression was a mix of irritation and ancient exhaustion, the kind that doesn’t go away after a night’s sleep. Without a word, she stepped aside and let her in.

  The interior of the cabin felt more alive than welcoming. The pillars were made of thick, blackened tree trunks, their roots twisting across the ceiling like exposed veins. Pale leaves sprouted from them, emitting a cold, white light, almost spectral.

  Near the entrance, a small white wooden bookshelf revealed her lack of interest in books. Right beside it, a display case of the same color, with two large glass doors, showcased her true devotion: swords, a katana, maces, firearms, bullets lined up with surgical precision. Tools to survive… or to destroy.

  At the center of the cabin, a circular table of light wood held a white pot with pink geraniums, a fragile detail in a place dominated by deadly objects. The kitchen, small and orderly, combined white cabinets with silver appliances that reflected the light in an unsettling way.

  At the back, a large circular window revealed part of the village and the magical sky, distorted as if it didn’t fully belong to this world. The bed followed the curve of the window, covered with white blankets, pink sheets, and pastel-colored pillows. A desperate attempt at softness.

  The walls were completely covered in vines. They gave the illusion of peace, as if nature were trying to wrap the cabin to protect it from the chaos outside… or to trap something that should not escape.

  Melody sat down at the table and picked up a cup of matcha tea. She looked at it with disgust before drinking.

  — I had to settle for this stuff. Is it really that hard to get a Caramel Macchiato in this weird little town? —she took a sip—. It doesn’t taste bad… how strange.

  She frowned, confused. It wasn’t the first time she had tried it, but it was the first time she liked it.

  — At least you’ll be able to cut back on your caffeine intake —Cristina commented with a slight laugh.

  — I’d rather use a fake pouch than give up coffee —Melody replied, sketching a fleeting smile that died far too soon.

  Cristina didn’t skirt around the issue anymore.

  — How are you?

  — Me? I’m fine —Melody said, gesturing sharply toward the weapons case—. A girl like me doesn’t get carried away by stupid emotions.

  — Melody, you don’t have to keep up that act with me. I’m your friend —Cristina placed her hand over hers—. I don’t need to use my powers to notice that all of this is reopening old wounds.

  — I’m fine. I’m fine —Melody repeated, standing up abruptly—. I have weapons. I can move cars with my mind. I can… —her voice barely broke— I can kill with my own hands. I’m fine.

  Cristina looked at her without saying a word. But in her silence there was a single phrase, clear and cruel: stop lying to yourself.

  — Since Tory’s death, I’ve felt like you were hiding things —Cristina continued—. And I’m sorry. I wasn’t there for you. I lost a friend too, but you lost her under circumstances far too similar to what happened to your parents… I’m so sorry.

  Cristina stepped closer and hugged her.

  Melody stayed rigid at first, as if she no longer remembered how to respond to that gesture. Then she returned the hug, but without strength: she clung to her in silence, like someone holding on at the edge of an abyss.

  Tears began to fall, at first few, then uncontrollable. A sea of repressed pain spilled out without words, soaking Cristina’s shoulder while the cabin, alive and silent, seemed to watch everything.

  — I’m not fine —Melody confessed between sobs—. It doesn’t matter how many weapons I have, how much I train, or how much my magic grows… I always feel like that helpless little girl who watched her parents die. Cristina… I can’t.

  The weight of her words forced them to sit at the table, as if the body could no longer carry what the soul bore.

  — You can’t what? —Cristina asked, her brow furrowed, dreading the answer.

  — Face the Salic Order —Melody wiped her tears clumsily—. I’m terrified. Those two men still live in my nightmares. When I imagine them standing in front of me… I freeze.

  — It’s okay —Cristina said with calm firmness—. You don’t have to fight alone. You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to. We’re all here for you. I’m here for you.

  She gave her a warm smile, the kind that doesn’t promise solutions, but does promise companionship.

  — I want to help them —Melody continued—, but I don’t want to do it alone. I want you to go into my mind with me.

  Her eyes trembled. The fear had not been tamed, only contained.

  — Do you really think you can do it? —Cristina didn’t soften her tone—. We’re going to have to go to your greatest trauma. That place won’t be easy at all.

  — I need it —Melody replied, steadier—. And they need it too. I don’t want them to keep hurting people.

  Cristina watched her for a few seconds before nodding.

  — All right.

  Melody brought a blanket and two cushions, arranging them on the floor with almost ritual care. Then they placed a white plate in the center, two candles of the same color, and a blue thread that Melody began to wind in a spiral around both candles, binding them together.

  A quick prick to each of their fingers. A drop of blood on each wick. They melted the base of the candles and fixed them to the plate.

  They sat facing each other, holding hands, and closed their eyes.

  — Corpus et animam —Cristina began—, mentem et essentiam.

  Ancient runes emerged along their arms, glowing with a bluish light that pulsed like a living heart.

  — Duo entia in una mente, coniungit.

  The air grew dense, electrified, like the moment before a storm.

  — Iter in dolorem, vulnus quod non sanatur.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  The candles ignited with an intense blue flame. The blood began to slide down the melted wax, forming the same symbol on each candle: two joined circles, an imperfect infinity, a bond of unity.

  Then, both of them fell asleep.

  Melody’s eyes snapped open. She sat up, gasping, fists raised, ready to attack.

  Darkness.

  A darkness deeper than night, thicker than emptiness. A few meters away, a bluish light floated in silence.

  — Ready? —Cristina asked, emerging from the gloom with a blue lantern in her hand.

  — Sure… —Melody replied, though her voice betrayed uncertainty—. What do we do?

  — Touch the lantern. We’ll have to pass through certain memories to find what we’re looking for.

  Melody extended her hand and touched the light.

  Beneath their feet, nothingness began to transform. First grass, growing wildly. Then plants, trees, impossible flowers. Birds emerged from the air, singing melodies that felt like echoes from another time.

  — By Hecate… —Melody whispered, her eyes filled with a painful illusion.

  — Where are we? —Cristina asked.

  — I used to call it the Garden of Happiness —Melody said—. My mother created it in a forest near where we lived. The plants never died. The flowers were always in bloom… Here she showed me her magic.

  She tried to touch a flower, but her fingers passed through it. The image dissolved like smoke before reforming, intact, beautiful… false.

  — Of course —she murmured, lowering her gaze—. It isn’t real.

  — No —Cristina replied gently—. But it’s your memory. Hold on to what this place made you feel.

  The garden continued to bloom around them, luminous and perfect, while an invisible shadow began to stretch between the trees.

  Melody stopped in front of a flower that did not belong to the garden. It was a gigantic geranium, nearly two meters tall, its petals a deep black, as if they absorbed the light around them. She approached slowly, an instinctive fear pounding at her temples.

  She looked at it.

  She touched it.

  The garden reacted instantly. Life withdrew like a reverse tide: the flowers shrank, the grass turned gray, the trees twisted until they became skeletons of dead wood. The air grew dry, without scent, without song.

  Melody let out a silent tear. To her, this was how the garden must look now: empty, withered, abandoned. She found it impossible to believe it could still be magical without her mother’s magic.

  The black geranium began to wither slowly. Its petals cracked, crumbled, until they were reduced to dust. Among the remains, something was left exposed.

  A ticket.

  Melody picked it up carefully, confused, as if she feared it might vanish between her fingers as well.

  — Carousel ticket? —Cristina read softly.

  Before Melody could answer, a faint light drew their attention. A few meters away, a ticket booth emerged from nothingness. They approached with cautious steps. Inside stood a man dressed with an unsettling, circus-like elegance: a red tailcoat with golden details, metallic buttons, a black vest embroidered in gold, an immaculate white shirt, gloves of the same color, and a black top hat that concealed his face.

  — Um… hello? —Melody said, gently tapping on the glass.

  — Welcome to Vértigo Park —the man replied—. ?Do you have your ticket?

  He lifted his head.

  Melody lost her breath.

  — Dad…?

  All her strength collapsed in that instant. She was no longer the armed woman or the powerful witch: she was a lost little girl.

  — Welcome to Vértigo Park. ?Do you have your ticket? —he repeated, with the same intonation, without a trace of emotion.

  — It’s not him —Cristina whispered, resting her hand on her shoulder—. He won’t say anything else. I’m sorry.

  Melody swallowed.

  — Oh… right —she murmured—. Here it is.

  She slid the ticket through the lower slot.

  The dead ground began to crumble, breaking apart like ash, and in its place emerged a cobblestone path of black bricks. Lampposts rose from the ground one by one, dimly lighting the surroundings. Then the attractions appeared: a Ferris wheel creaking as it turned, motionless bumper cars, a haunted house with its entrance open like a hungry mouth. In the distance, bathed in pink lights, the carousel slowly spun.

  They walked toward it. The entire park was covered in vines and geraniums growing without order, as if trying to reclaim the place.

  Melody’s father waited for them beside the carousel, motioning for them to get on.

  Melody chose a white horse with a golden mane. Cristina mounted a brown one with a black mane.

  — Have fun, little falcon! —the man shouted.

  The carousel started moving.

  A sharp pain pierced Melody’s chest. Her mind showed no mercy. As they turned, they watched the park being devoured once more by the black void. The carousel roof tore free and was swallowed by the darkness. The speed increased, faster and faster, until it became unbearable. Both of them clung to the horses, fingers numb, fear vibrating in their bones.

  Suddenly, an invisible force tore them from their seats.

  They rose uncontrollably, swallowed by the void, barely illuminated by Cristina’s blue lantern. The speed slowly began to decrease… until they fell.

  They hit the ground with violent force.

  They struggled to their feet, brushing dust and cobwebs from their clothes. The air was heavy, old, laden with omens.

  They had descended deeper into Melody’s mind.

  — Here… —Melody whispered. She could barely speak.

  She pointed to a little girl hiding among stacked boxes, curled against the wall like a wounded animal. Melody took a step forward. Half of the girl’s face was slowly dissolving into thick black smoke, as if her identity were being devoured. The cracked wall behind her pulsed, alive, exhaling whispers and muffled screams that slipped into the mind like needles.

  A dull thud echoed.

  Then another.

  And another.

  It didn’t stop.

  It was that wooden statue. It slammed violently to the floor, the world flickered like a badly corrected error—a glitch—and the statue reappeared on the shelf only to fall again. Over and over. An endless punishment.

  — Why won’t it stop?! ?Stop it, you piece of trash! —Melody screamed.

  She tried to grab it, to stop it, but her hands passed through it as if it didn’t exist.

  — Look at me —Cristina ordered.

  She set the blue lantern on the ground and held Melody’s face firmly, forcing her to focus only on her.

  — I’m here. You’re not alone. None of this can hurt you. It’s just a memory.

  Melody nodded, trembling. She took a deep breath, gave herself a gentle slap on the cheek, as if trying to return to her body… and climbed the stairs.

  The door to the upper floor was covered in cracks from which geraniums of every color sprouted, growing in unnatural ways. Melody grasped the handle. When she opened it, they found only dark emptiness.

  Nothingness.

  — There —Cristina said, pointing at something in the distance.

  They moved forward until they made out a cluster of multicolored flowers. They formed the silhouette of a kneeling person, arms outstretched as if protecting something invisible.

  — Mom… I’m sorry —Melody fell to her knees.

  Crying, she tried to touch her. The moment her hands brushed the petals, the figure collapsed. The flowers fell one by one until they were reduced to a lifeless pile on the ground.

  — I don’t have… a wife… or a daughter… —a voice whispered from the void—. Leo… please… wake up…

  Melody recognized those voices.

  They were her father’s.

  And her mother’s.

  The crack of a gunshot shattered the silence.

  The surroundings fragmented. Debris appeared, dense shadows, creeping penumbras. Heavy footsteps and deep, distorted laughter echoed. They couldn’t see them clearly, only sense them all around. The blue lantern was the only thing giving shape to the fear.

  Cristina grabbed Melody’s hand, squeezing it tightly. I’m still here.

  The lantern began to flicker. Light. Darkness. Light.

  In the flashes, two bulky figures appeared. Their laughter was macabre, devoid of humanity.

  Melody couldn’t move. Her body wouldn’t respond. She was that little girl again.

  She wanted to run. To disappear.

  Then she saw it.

  Behind the men, almost hidden, there was a small pink geranium. Fragile. Insignificant. But impossible to ignore.

  — I’m here —Cristina repeated, squeezing her hand even tighter.

  They began to move toward them. The light came and went.

  — Witch!

  — Damned girl!

  The voices overlapped, shouted without pause, as the figures drew closer.

  Melody stopped in front of them. Now she could see them up close. Their faces were distorted, incomplete, like melted masks. They were not mythical monsters.

  They were worse.

  — They’re not monsters… —Melody said, her voice firm for the first time—. They’re just pathetic men.

  The fear was still there.

  But it was no longer in control.

  The faces of those men began to fail, like a corrupted image. A glitch rippled across their features until, for one unbearable instant, they revealed their true faces: her parents’ killers.

  Then they came apart.

  Their bodies turned into black smoke that slowly dispersed, leaving the path clear.

  Melody walked forward without hesitation until she reached the small pink geranium.

  — What is this? —Cristina asked, observing the plant.

  — My favorite flower —Melody replied softly—. My mother always made them grow when I was afraid.

  She touched it carefully.

  The flower disintegrated into a shimmering dust, like ashes of light, and in its place appeared the device the hunters used. Cold. Real. Heavy, even within a memory.

  — It’s this one! —Cristina exclaimed, hugging Melody tightly.

  The darkness dissolved.

  Cristina opened her eyes slowly. The cabin came back into existence around her. Melody was waking as well, her face still damp, the candles completely burned down to the base.

  — You drooled all over everything —Cristina said, breaking into laughter.

  — What? —Melody looked at her soaked pillow—. Shut up.

  She grabbed the pillow and threw it straight at Cristina’s head.

  Cristina stood up, laughing.

  — Now we’ll be able to figure out how to face them —she said, offering her hand—. How are you?

  — Better —Melody replied, taking her hand to stand—. I didn’t close the wound… but it feels like the beginning.

  She hugged Cristina tightly.

  — I’m glad, my friend —Cristina smiled—. I’ll find out what that device is… and I’ll get you a Caramel Macchiato.

  She walked away with a soft laugh, while Melody stayed there a few seconds longer, breathing deeply.

  The fear was still there.

  But she was no longer alone.