[color=lightgray][center][color=red][h1]FLASHBACK[/h1][/color] [img]https://i.imgur.com/YGxzxVR.png[/img] [img]https://i.imgur.com/mD0Zdvf.gif[/img] [color=#D0B4EC][h2]Part 2[/h2][/color][/center] [color=#D0B4EC]Time:[/color] 2am - [color=red]Ignis 5[/color] [color=#D0B4EC]Location[/color] Lover’s Lake [center][hr][youtube]https://youtu.be/gQXYyfN_U3U?si=uQt_Ogm2VRW9U3gI[/youtube] [hr][/center] [indent][/indent] The water was cold enough to elicit a gasp out of her. Her boots lay behind her in the mud by the shore. The rain pelted the surface of the water in frantic little strikes as she moved into the lake, the hem of her dress immediately darkening with moisture. The current kissed against her skin rhythmically and the rain slid from her hair into her eyes, blurring her already darkened vision. She lifted her gaze toward the waterfall again, and she stared at it. Lottie felt the insistent pull of her limbs that told her to keep moving forward. The urge was so strong that it made the idea of stopping feel impossible. She stepped deeper into the soft lakebed. Mud pressed up between her toes as she tried to find stable footing. The water climbed to her knees, then higher, and the cold stopped being shocking, becoming more so an ache. When the lakebed finally dropped away and her feet could no longer reach, she lurched forward, and her hands lifted automatically as the water surged against her chest. Her first movements were clumsy, but she forced herself to swim forward anyway. She did not aim for the center of the lake; the cliffs were farther than they had looked from shore, but there was that stretch of land by the falls. She swam toward that strip instead. Each breath required effort and she had to keep turning her head at the right moment just to avoid swallowing water. It was not like swimming in the sea back in Veirmont, where the waves could knock you sideways but the daylight made distance easier to judge. The darkness and storm stole her sense of direction, and the closer she came to the falls the stronger the movement in the water became. Her arms began to shake with strain as she forced herself to keep moving. When her fingers finally brushed something solid, she reached again with desperation until she found rock. It was rough enough to scrape her palms, but she clung to it. She managed to pull herself forward onto a low shelf and she collapsed onto her side, coughing hard. She tried to brace her arms beneath her and push herself upright even as her teeth violently chattered. Only then did the thought finally arrive as she stared at the lake behind her—[i]It was completely insane that she had done this at all.[/i] She tried to force her mind to explain it, to give her a reason that made sense, but the inside of her head remained blank. Still trembling, she dragged herself along the stone, keeping one shoulder pressed to the cliff so the surge of the lake could not pull her back. The waterfall struck her hard enough to steal her breath, cold water slamming against her. She kept one hand on the cliff, fingers searching blindly along the stone until she felt where the rock receded, and she shoved herself sideways into it with a desperate inhale. The noise dimmed at once, and she stumbled into a cramped hollow behind the falls. She pressed her palm to the wall to stay upright. Charlotte lifted her head and could vaguely make out a passage opened to the side. She pushed herself into the passage and found it was even darker inside. The passage itself was narrow, forcing her to move slowly, her hands outstretched to feel her way along the rock face. She could hear the muffled roar of the waterfall behind her. As she continued, the passage began to widen, and she realized the space was not a simple tunnel but a cave system. She stopped, turning a full circle. Her vision, slowly adjusting, could only pick out the barest shapes. Her foot brushed against something loose, sending a cascade of gravel rattling. Panic, which had been bizarrely absent during the insane swim, began to fill her. Charlotte reached out and fumbled her hand about until she established there was a junction where the main path branched into two smaller openings. She took a step toward the opening on the left, then pulled back, heart hammering. They were identical holes that promised nothing but getting hopelessly lost. A frustrated sound escaped her. She had endured this madness, all driven by an inexplicable compulsion. And that strange voice was no help; she hadn’t heard it since she had last been on shore. After a long pause of silence, she spoke in a low voice that trembled despite her effort to make it steady. [color=#D0B4EC]“I know you’ve been here.”[/color] Nothing answered her, but she pressed yet again, because she did not know what else to do, [color=#D0B4EC] “Father, show me the way. “[/color] The words left her mouth and immediately made her feel foolish, because she was standing drenched behind a waterfall, speaking to a ghost without any certainty if he was there or if ghosts existed at all. She leaned her shoulder against the rock and tried to calm down, listening to the distant crackle of thunder. In that moment, Charlotte also tried to comb through her mind to remember the events that even led up to this ridiculous moment. The entirety of Ignis fourth had been spent in her bedroom, curled up in her bed, in the very same night gown she wore now. She had been so tired that her thoughts would not line up properly, so tired that even the shadows on her walls had seemed capable of movement, and she had kept her face buried in her pillow, even as Delilah had fretted over her constantly offering food and a bath and questions meant to pull her back toward normal life—Charlotte had refused everything. Now that she knew Kalliope was safe, her adrenaline had melted away, leaving only an emptiness that she could not talk herself out of. The evening came but sleep did not. Every time she closed her eyes, the nightmares took her by the throat, dragging her down into horrifying scenes of that tavern, and she kept waking with a scream. Eventually she could not bear it anymore, and she did what she had done before, she went to Lorenzo’s room in the early hours and knocked, calling his name, but silence was the only answer yet again. So she had stood outside his door a while, trying to convince herself that he was simply asleep, that he would open the door any moment, even though something in her already knew that he was not in there. After that, she could not quite explain what came next, and that frightened her most of all. It was as if the distance between her home and the lake had been erased while her mind was too worn out to notice. She pressed her forehead briefly to the stone beside her and shut her eyes. When she opened her eyes again, she stared into the darkness of the passageways, and her voice came out softer than before. [color=#D0B4EC]“Please, Father.”[/color] Her plea hung in the air, and for a moment there was only the distant roar of the waterfalls behind her. Then the air shifted around her in a way she could feel more than hear. [color=8882be]“Come on,”[/color] Walter’s voice said, and it sounded close enough to make her breath catch, [color=8882be]“You’re going to stand there sulking until you turn into a statue, and then I’ll have to carry you, and you know I’ll complain the entire time.”[/color] Charlotte’s eyes widened, and she turned her head about as if she might see him standing there in the dark, but there was only the dim vision of wet stone. [color=#D0B4EC]“Where are you,”[/color] she whispered, her voice cracking with exhaustion. [color=#D0B4EC]“Why can’t you just tell me which way to go?”[/color] Walter exhaled impatiently. But it was not her father she caught sight of first. Charlotte watched as his teenage sister Willow stumbled in after him, shaking so badly that she had to press her palms to her thighs. Her dress clung to her legs, her brown hair stuck to her cheeks, and her eyes kept flicking behind her. [color=lightpink]“Walter,”[/color] she whispered, her hands curling into fists. [color=lightpink]“Do you think they know who we are?”[/color] The sight of Walter emerging from the left passageway filled her vision, and the first thing that struck her was how young he looked, no older than sixteen or seventeen, with dark hair plastered to his forehead and temples as if he had been running through rain for miles. His clothing damp enough to hang on his frame. He turned his head toward Willow slowly as if he did not want to startle her into bolting back toward the waterfall. Then he opened his palm, and a small orb of light formed there, warm yet bright enough to paint the wet stone around them. [color=8882be]“I don’t know,”[/color] he answered, and the bluntness made Willow flinch. Then his mouth twisted into that crooked grin that never quite reached his eyes. [color=8882be]“But if they did, I imagine they would have introduced themselves by now, and I would currently be bleeding on a rock while you scream at someone, so let’s pretend they did not..”[/color] He gestured to follow and delved deeper inside, Charlotte followed him hurriedly and as did Willow. [color=lightpink]“You can’t just joke,”[/color] Willow whispered, voice cracking with frustration and fear as they moved deeper inside. [color=lightpink]“They were right behind us.”[/color] [color=8882be]“I’m not joking,”[/color] Walter said quietly, and his hand settled on the back of her shoulder. [color=8882be]“I’m making sure you keep breathing.”[/color] [color=lightpink]“How do you know this place is safe,”[/color] she asked, sharper now. [color=lightpink]“How do you know they won’t find us here too?”[/color] Walter’s gaze dropped for a second. [color=8882be]“Because I didn’t find it on my own,”[/color] he admitted as they walked, [color=8882be]“Someone else told me about it.”[/color] Willow’s face immediately paled, and her voice lowered, [color=lightpink]“Who?”[/color] she whispered. Walter held her gaze. [color=8882be]“The one they killed,”[/color] he said quietly. Willow’s hand flew to her mouth. [color=lightpink]“She was kind,”[/color] she managed, voice breaking. Walter nodded. [color=8882be]“I know,”[/color] he said. [color=8882be]“She said there are places that witchbloods are safe in.”[/color] [color=lightpink]“So this is one of those places,”[/color] Willow whispered, voice trembling. [color=lightpink]“A cove that protects people like us.”[/color] Walter glanced around and then his mouth twisted into a smile of dark humor. [color=8882be]“Apparently,”[/color] he replied. [color=8882be]“Which is excellent news, because if I have to die young, I would prefer it to be somewhere dignified like a wet hole where I can at least complain about it.”[/color] Willow’s laugh broke and turned into a sob, and Walter’s hand lifted automatically to grab hers. Charlotte followed as if she were truly there beside them, drawn forward by instinct as the memory made room for her footsteps. Deeper inside, the air felt less exposed to the storm, and there was a flat shelf of rock that looked too deliberate to be natural, as if someone had carved it long ago for a purpose. Wrapped in cloth and tucked beneath a loose stone were only a few books, fewer than Walter seemed to expect. He crouched in front of them with wary focus, his wet sleeves dripping as he pulled the cloth back. Willow knelt beside him, hands hovering as if she was afraid to touch anything. [color=lightpink]“Someone left books here,”[/color] she whispered, staring at the small collection with disbelief. Walter’s gaze tracked the spines, and his lips pressed together. [color=8882be]“Don’t touch any of them. [/color] He told her. Willow nodded, tears still running, and her voice trembled when she asked the question, [color=lightpink]“Do you really think we’re safe?”[/color] Walter stared at her, and his expression softened. [color=8882be]“No,”[/color] he admitted bluntly. [color=8882be]“I think we are hidden for now, and I think that is all anyone ever gets.”[/color] Then, as if he could not resist being himself even in terror, the corner of his mouth lifted into that grim little smile. [color=8882be]“Besides,”[/color] he added dryly, [color=8882be]“if somehow they do find us here, I’ll tell them I’m on a prayer retreat, and you’re supervising my repentance, and if that fails, then I’ll hit someone with a book.”[/color] Willow let out a broken laugh that turned into a sob, and she leaned her forehead briefly against his shoulder, and Walter wrapped his arms around his sister. The memory continued on for a final moment,and then the edges of it began to thin, and subsequently the two disappeared. The light was gone and she was once again drowning in darkness. She did not move for a second. She swallowed and turned slowly toward where the shelf had been in the memory. Her palm skimmed along the wet stone until her fingertips met a ledge. She leaned in, searching with both hands now. The shelf was nearly empty. Whatever had once been here, whatever Walter and Willow had seen in that moment, was gone now, taken or destroyed or moved elsewhere. Then her fingers closed around something solid. A single book remained. The cover felt stiff beneath the cloth, and when she tugged it free, she wrapped it snugly in the oilcloth and then clutched it to her chest for a moment. Then she fumbled at the damp fabric of her nightgown and tore a long strip from the lower edge with shaking hands. Her fingers were numb and clumsy, but she looped the strip around the book anyway, tying it into a sling that could hang from her shoulder so she would not drop it if she slipped. The knot was ugly, but it held when she tested it, and that was all that mattered. Then she stood still, book pressed against her side, and tried to decide which way to go. And then the memory returned, but not as full as before. She saw it in quick pieces: Walter and Willow leaving at the first hint of morning, their clothes still damp, Walter glancing back once over his shoulder as he murmured something to his sister. She saw Walter’s hand brace against the wall in the same place Charlotte was bracing now, saw the turn they took without hesitation, and the vision ended as quickly as it came, leaving her standing at the cave’s entrance again. This part was the worst. The hollow behind the falls was slick, the ledge narrow, and the curtain of water beyond it was violent, but she made her way through it. She clung to the cliff with numb fingers as she edged sideways until she could reach the shelf. The storm had not stopped, but the open air felt different after the cave. She stared at the water, clutching the book with both hands, and only now did the full logic of it hit. She turned away from the waterfall and began to move along the cliff again, shimming on the ledge. When the ledge widened into the same area she had reached earlier when she swam, relief hit so hard that her knees nearly buckled as she hauled herself onto it. Charlotte did not give herself time to rest properly. She tightened the sling again, pulling the book higher across her chest until it sat firmly and would not shift, and then she lowered herself back into the water with an inhale. She pushed off from the rock and began to swim, keeping one arm strong enough to pull her forward and the other instinctively guarding the wrapped book against her chest. [i]But the water was so cold.[/i] In her fear and exhaustion it uncovered what she had spent years forcing down into the deepest part of herself. Sudden violent panic rose hard as she felt the sensation of hands holding her under the water. She could feel the ice around her, the metal sides pressing against her, the sting that went bone deep, and the muffled voices that floated above her, calm tones as if her fear was only an inconvenience to them. Her movements grew frantic in a manner that did not help her move forward at all. She thought a scream might claw its way out of her, but she swallowed it back, choking instead as her arms began to falter. [/color] [indent][/indent]