19
There was a long silence from inside the room before Caleb’s voice echoed again.
“I’m sorry. I can’t get out.
“Anya, you need to go. It’ll be too late if you wait any longer.”
I didn’t say a word, stubbornly prying at the door lock.
<
The Blackwood family favored old-world style designs, so the wooden door wasn’t too
hard to break.
The lock clattered to the ground. My heart lightened. I pushed the door open.
But the sight before me was even more despairing.
Caleb was firmly shackled to the wall by several chains as thick as three fingers. His
entire body was covered in wounds, deep enough to expose bone, a bloody mess.
Flames had already spread to his feet.
He looked deeply into my eyes, then, amidst the towering inferno, he turned his face away, his voice hoarse.
“Don’t look. It’s not pretty.”
But that single glance, precisely that glance, made long-sealed memories surge over me
like a tidal wave.
I finally remembered where I had seen those eyes before.
My voice trembled as I asked,
“Ten years ago, in the snowy mountains, was that you?”
*** CUT-OFF POINT ***
