CHAPTER 64 —
Lena lay on the rug by the hearth. Blankets piled around her. Like a nest her mother had built in frantic desperation. The room smelled of flour and herbs. Fennel and mint scattered across the floorboards. From the basket that had fallen when she collapsed. The void inside her had not filled. It had only deepened. A hollow place where something essential used to be. Something that had kept her anchored without her ever knowing it existed. Her body felt light. Unmoored. As though gravity had loosened its grip on her alone. And she might float away if not for the weight of the blankets pinning her down.
She stared at the ceiling. The beams above her. Knots in the wood. Familiar patterns. Patterns she had traced with her eyes on rainy afternoons. On sick days. On nights when sleep would not come. The beams had always been there. Solid. Unchanging. A constant in a world that had taken her father too early. Left her mother to raise two children alone. Now the beams seemed wrong. Twisted. As though the house itself was breathing. In time with her labored breaths. In time with the pounding in her head that had finally, mercifully, stopped.
Her mother knelt beside her. Hands trembling. Pressing the cool cloth to Lena's forehead. For what felt like the hundredth time. "Lena. Lena, look at me. Stay with me, love." Her voice cracked. But she kept talking. Words tumbling out. In a stream of fear and love. "You're going to be okay. It's just a spell. The healer will come. Someone will come. They have to come."
Lena heard her. But the words were distant. Muffled. Like voices from underwater. Like the time she had fallen into the river as a toddler. Her mother pulling her out. Coughing. Crying. "Never scare me like that again." That was before the quarry. Before the fall that changed everything. Before the world started bending around her in ways she did not understand. Before the headaches. The blackouts. The strange luck that followed her like a shadow.
The pounding on the door had stopped minutes ago. But the memory of it lingered. The villagers who had pushed inside. Seven of them. Three men. Three women. One child. Had crowded the small room. Their faces pale with terror. Their voices overlapping. In a cacophony of pleas and prayers. "Let us in." "It's coming." "Help us." They had sought shelter near the hearth. Near Lena. As though her presence offered protection from the thing outside. As though she was a talisman against the dark.
They had been wrong.
Lena had watched them die.
One by one.
Slowly.
The blacksmith. Big. Strong. With hands callused from years at the forge. He had helped fix their door last winter. "No charge for the little ones," he had said. He had lasted eight seconds. He had tried to speak. Mouth working soundlessly. Eyes locked on Lena. As though begging her to make it stop. Then his knees buckled. His body folded inward. Color leaching away. Heat shimmering from his skin in a brief plume. He collapsed into ash. Clothing sagging empty on the floor.
The woman with flour on her hands. The baker's wife. She had given Lena bread fresh from the oven. "For your smile," she had said. She had lasted nine seconds. She had reached for her husband. Fingers outstretched. A sob caught in her throat. Too late. Ash.
Her husband. The baker himself. He had taught Lena how to knead dough. "Like this, see? Gentle but firm." He had lasted seven seconds. He had tried to shield his wife even as he fell. Arm extended in a futile gesture. Ash.
The older woman. Widow Mara. Who had given Lena apples just yesterday. "Sweet as you are, child." She had lasted ten seconds. She had prayed aloud until the last moment. Words slurring as her life force drained. Ash.
The young man. Tomas's brother. The farmer. He had let Lena ride the plow horse once. "Hold tight, girl." He had lasted six seconds. He had tried to run for the door. Hand outstretched toward the latch. Collapsed halfway. Ash.
His sister. The young man's sister. Barely eighteen. She had braided Lena's hair at the festival. "Pretty as a picture." She had lasted eleven seconds. She had screamed his name. Voice breaking on the final syllable. Ash.
The child. A boy no older than seven. With dirt on his knees from playing in the square. He had shared his marbles with Kai last week. "You can have the blue one." He had lasted fourteen seconds. He had reached for Lena's hand. Fingers brushing hers. Eyes wide with confusion and trust. "It hurts," he had whispered. Then ash.
Lena had watched it all.
No tears.
No scream.
Just the void inside her growing larger with each death.
She remembered their faces. Their voices. Their kindness. The blacksmith's laugh when he fixed the door. The baker's wife's warm hugs. The baker's flour-dusted hands guiding hers. Widow Mara's stories by the fire. The young man's smile when she rode the horse. His sister's gentle fingers in her hair. The child's glee when he won the marble game.
Now they were ash.
Because of her.
Because they were near her.
Because she was the anchor.
Because she was the siphon.
Because she was the reason the demi-god had come.
Her mother had seen it too.
She had watched the villagers die. Slower than those outside. But die nonetheless. And her face had changed. The terror had shifted. Sharpened into understanding. She had pulled Lena closer at first. Wrapping her in more blankets. Whispering "It's not your fault" over and over like a mantra. But as the ash settled on the floorboards. As the room grew quieter. Colder. Her mother's eyes had widened with realization.
The pattern.
The villagers near Lena died slower.
The drain was weakened around her.
Staying near Lena endangered others.
It prolonged the agony.
Made the deaths slower. More painful.
Her mother understood.
"Lena," she whispered. Voice breaking. "Listen to me."
Lena tried to focus.
The world was still wrong. Colors muted. Sound muffled. Air heavy. But her mother's voice cut through.
"The thing outside... it's coming for you. For us. But... the people near you... they die slower. It's you. You're doing something. Protecting them. But... it's hurting them more."
Lena shook her head weakly.
No.
Not me.
I didn't.
Her mother cupped her face. Thumbs wiping away tears Lena hadn't realized she was shedding.
"You have to run. Get away. Take your brother. He's upstairs. Get him and go."
Lena's brother. Little Kai. Only five. Was hiding under the bed in the upstairs room. As their mother had told him when the pounding started. "Stay there, sweet. Don't come out until I say."
Lena tried to sit up.
Weak.
The void pulled her back down.
Her mother helped her. Arms strong despite the fear in her eyes. Arms that had held Lena through fevers. Through nightmares. Through the day her father didn't come home from the quarry. "Your father was a good man," her mother had said then. "He loved you so much." Arms that had held Kai when he was born. "Your little brother. Protect him always."
"You can do this. You're strong. You've always been strong. Remember the quarry? You survived that. You can survive this."
Lena remembered. The fall. The darkness. The void that had started there. The luck that had saved her. The luck that had cursed her. The day she had woken in the healer's house. "You should be dead," the healer had said. "But here you are."
She nodded.
Her mother's hands were warm on her face. The last warmth in the room. The last warmth in the world.
The demi-god approached Lena directly for the first time.
The pressure wave tightened around the house like a fist closing.
The door rattled. Wood groaning.
The windows bowed inward. Glass cracking with soft pops. Like ice breaking on the river in winter.
The hearth fire flickered out. Smoke curling up the chimney.
Darkness fell. Not night. But absence of light. The room turned gray. Shadows swallowed everything.
Her mother froze.
"Lena... run. Now."
Lena stood on shaking legs.
The door burst open. Not from force. But from pressure.
Wood splintered inward. Shards hanging in the air for a second before dropping. Clattering on the floor.
The demi-god entered.
Presence first.
A wave of cold. Colorless. Breathless nothing.
The room grew colder. Air thinner. Colors duller. The gray deepened to black.
Then shape.
Not flesh.
Not stone.
Absence made manifest.
A silhouette of negative space. Tall. Thin. Wrong. Edges sharp where light refused to touch.
He approached Lena.
Directly.
For the first time.
The room shrank around him. Walls seemed to bow inward. Floor creaked under invisible weight. The air pressed down.
Her mother stepped between them. Arms outstretched.
"Leave her alone!"
Her voice was small in the presence. Weak. But defiant.
The demi-god spoke.
Accusation.
"You stole from me."
The voice came from everywhere. Air. Walls. Bones.
Low. Resonant. Final.
Lena didn't understand.
"Stole? I didn't... I don't..."
Her voice was small.
Weak.
Lost in the presence.
The demi-god did not explain.
He reached.
Not with hands.
With absence.
Life force drain.
He took Lena's mother.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Not fast.
Not merciful.
Her mother gasped.
Color leached from her skin. Warm brown to gray. Then ash.
Heat shimmered away in a slow plume. Like breath on a cold day.
Her eyes dimmed. From bright brown to dull. Then empty.
She turned to Lena.
Last words.
Order. Not comfort.
"Run. Take your brother. Live."
Her voice was weak. Slurring. But clear. Firm.
Then she collapsed.
Not fell.
Collapsed.
Body folding inward. Knees buckling. Shoulders slumping. Form compressing until only ash-like remains settled on the floorboards.
Clothing sagging empty.
Mother died in front of Lena.
Lena stared.
No tears.
No scream.
Just the void.
Growing.
Filling her completely.
The demi-god turned his attention elsewhere.
Presence shifted.
Away from Lena.
Toward the upstairs room.
Toward Kai.
Gave Lena seconds.
Lena moved.
Legs weak.
Body light.
She ran.
Up the stairs.
Each step a struggle. Legs like water. But she ran.
The stairs creaked. Wood old. Familiar.
She burst into the upstairs room.
Kai under the bed. Eyes wide. Tears on his cheeks.
"Big sis?"
She pulled him out.
"Come on. We have to go."
He clung to her.
"Mama?"
Lena's heart broke.
But she ran.
Out the back door.
Into the night.
Into the unknown.
The demi-god let her.
For now.
But the presence followed.
Slow.
Inevitably.
The void inside Lena grew.
Guilt.
Loss.
Fear.
She ran.
With her brother.
To live.
As her mother had ordered.
She ran through the back garden. Past the herb patch that never wilted. Past the fence her father had built. Into the fields.
Kai heavy in her arms. But she ran.
The screaming in the village faded behind her.
The ash drifted.
The demi-god continued.
Reclamation.
Lena ran.
Guilt growing.
But she ran.
To live.