L eia wandered in an unfamiliar world. She had lost track of the time, didn’t know if it was day or night. Sometimes she was alone. Sometimes Josiah was there, taunting her, demanding that she choose between life and death. Sometimes Rohan was there, begging her to live, his voice soft as he whispered that he loved her, would always love her, vowing that he would never let her go. Once, she imagined that she was drinking his blood. It was hot and thick and should have been disgusting, but she swallowed it eagerly and wished for more.
She was warm now, drifting on a red velvet sea. Voices came and went. Her father’s, filled with anger and confusion, her mother’s, filled with tears.
Nothing mattered anymore, not life or death. Only Rohan’s voice, filled with fear as he begged her to come back, and the taste of his blood on her tongue. Why did he keep pleading for her to come back? Back from where?
And what was that ghostly white light flickering in the distance?