Chapter 44

I barely get any sleep through the night. Early morning, I'm awake and splattering cold water on my face to make my appearance less puffy. I want to stretch, take a run, run in the wild so I can clear my mind, but somehow I know it isn't possible.

I pull on some clothes before leaving my room. I can't stay in for long. I'm already losing my mind just thinking about Zade.

There are some things that make a better sense now, some things that I didn't see before, that I didn't understand before. The dots are connecting, but I don't know where I stand.

It makes sense how he knew my name when he first saw me. How he was at the wedding, my wedding with the alpha. Was he there for a battle or for me? How do I even begin to differentiate between reality and what I've forgotten? Is it all even true to begin with? Does my mother knows? She was there in those pictures, I was there in those pictures. Zade was there in those pictures, with me.

"How are you feeling, Aurora?" Estella asks me.

"Good."

She doesn't believes me. "I can sense when you're sad. Is something bothering you?" She sits in front of me and continues asking.

Her concern is warming, but I know well she won't tell me anything about my past, or what I've read in those letters. Neither would Zade. No one here is going to.

"I think I just miss my mother after talking to her yesterday," I say, keeping up with whatever they are thinking. "It was sad to hear her voice. I was just wondering if it would be possible if I could see her? For a bit? Just a couple of hours."

Estella masks her face with a gentle smile. "I'll speak to Zade about it."

He won't agree—I already know it. There's something conflicting between him and my mother. I don't know what it is, but I can tell now. It feels like he hates her. But why?

"Where is he?" I look into the hallways behind me.

"There's some work he has been attending since morning. I assume he's going to be back in a bit," She pats my shoulder and stands up. "But don't worry, I'll take you for some shopping and necessities later in the afternoon. I'm sure you'll have some time to clear your mind from what's bothering you."

"I'm sure..." I trail off, still staring into the hallway. I've the urge to go up there, to see more, to read more of those letters. I can't stop and I don't think so I want to stop anymore.

There's too much I don't know and I want to know. All of it.

"What are you making for lunch?" I ask Estella.

"Lemon chicken, it's one of my mother's old recipes. You can come help me if you want." She offers.

"I would love to, but I think I'm going to take a shower first and tidy up my room a little bit."

"Oh, don't worry about that. I'll get it cleaned." She stops me before I can leave.

I shake my head, denying her offer. "It's fine. It's just a little dirty, I'll manage it on my own."

Just as I leave the kitchen, I take a deep breath and make my way across the hall to reach my room. My mind keeps imaging the worst, expecting the worst. I resist, or try too. But I'm scared. My lips tremble with every breath I take. Even when it's not cold in the house, it feels like I'm freezing to death. The hair on my skin won't settle down, neither will the panic in my chest.

I take a look out the window. Snowflakes are falling gently from the sky, covering the house in a blanket of white. Fear washes over me again as my eyes follow the snowflakes as they dance through the air before landing softly on the ground.

I rest my forehead against the cold glass pane and close my eyes, focusing on my breathing. I feel trapped, but I also realize that I've to be here—that I'm meant to be here. My past is here, I've been here, in this very house.

It then dawns on me that I've to know. Everything. I can't live like this, without knowing what has happened.

It's sure someone has wiped my memories, taken them away from me. But who? Zade? Why would he do that?

I step out of my room and make my way across the now familiar hallway. I know the way, it's clear in my mind now. Even when every inch of my body warns me to not go there, I do end up there. The door to his realm.

It's inevitable that I've to be here now.

I step inside and feel the cold rush through me. A shudder runs down my spine and I walk forward, deeper. My eyes linger over the old furniture, the paintings on the wall, the endless shelves filled with books that seem like they haven't been touched in years.

The air is heavy with the scent of wood and snow. Persian rugs line the floor I walk on. To my left, I find his bedroom, doors open, inviting me in, but I don't go there. I stand by the doorway, my hand pressed against the wall next to the door. I peak in, only a glance and take a step back.

It's wrong, wrong to force myself into his personal life.

I turn away from the door and toward the next door. It isn't open, but it's not locked either. I reach for the handle and push it.

The room is dimly lit. Unlike the rest of the house, this room isn't cold, it's filled with a warm, inviting energy. But it's dark in here.

I can't see anything until I turn on one of the small golden light in the corner. Only then I see what I've stepped into.

As my eyes adjust to the light, I notice two caskets at the far end of the room. They're made of a dark, rich word, polished to shine. There are fresh flowers placed on the shelf above the caskets, flowers that cover the scent of what's buried inside—or who.

I feel my breath catch in my throat. I'm not supposed to be here. This is where Zade's parents are buried. The realization hits me quick when my eyes travel to the portraits hanging above the flowers. They are framed with care.

His mother's eyes, much like Zade's, seem to look right through me—almost as if she knows why I'm here and what I'm looking for.

My gaze flickers back to the caskets and I bite the inside of my cheek hard. I tremble a little while crouching near to his mother's casket. My fingers hover over the wood, tracing the cravings.

She's not really dead...

Questions whirl in my mind. What if I woke her up? What if she could clear my confusion? Put all of this chaos into rest? But would I be wrong in doing so? There's a reason why she buried herself, for years now. I didn't want to disturb anyone. But I want answers and there's no one here giving me.

My chest raises and drops. My eyes narrow further to little latches that can be easily sprung open. For someone like Zade, I assumed he'd take a bit more security measures to keep his mother's body safe for as long as she was asleep. But that isn't the case here.

I hesitate for a moment, my finger hovering above the latch. There's no going back from here. Holding my breath, I pry open the latches, each one of them before slipping my fingers under the lid of the casket.

The wood is cool to touch, and heavy. It takes up all of my energy to push it open. Once the lid is fully open, the air shifts, as though the room itself is holding its breath now.

My eyes lock onto the body in front of me, so still and peaceful. It doesn't scares me, not in the way I thought it would. For a moment, I thought I'd be seeing all bones, no flesh, a hideous sight that would haunt my dreams forever.

But Zade's mother is preserved in beauty. Her face retains the immortality every vampire is gifted with along with her hair and skin.

It's the first time I've ever seen a vampire so close, a pure vampire and I don't if it terrifies me or surprises me completely.

If I go through this, there'll be consequences. I have no clue about Zade's mother, how she is, how she acts, how she'll tell me what has happened. But I have seen her in those photos, alongside with my own mother and me. She knows me. She'll tell me the truth.

I glance around the room, searching for something sharp, but there's nothing in the room except for the two caskets. I know to wake her I've to give her some blood. But what if that doesn't works? What if it is something else for vampire's who are hibernating? What if it's more than blood?

When I don't find anything, I push my palm against the metal latch on the casket and with enough pressure, it cuts through my skin. Blood seeps into my palm and a shiver runs down my spine at the same time.

I shift near to casket, closer to the her. My knees scrap against the wooden ground and I wrap my one hand around the casket's edge for support. My other hand hovers above her mouth, my palm pooling with my own blood.

Fear swirls inside me as I hesitate once more.

My palm is trembling now. I'm at a crossroads of morality and curiosity. My instincts scream to pull back, to leave this place and never return. To run as far from here, from this house, from Zade, as far as I can go. He can't look for me if I'm not anywhere. He'll eventually forget me—

No, he won't.

He can't forget me, he wasn't able to before and he surely can't now.

With a deep breath, my hand lowers. My blood drips from my palm to her mouth.  

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