Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132582 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 663(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
But, of course, with anything that is good, along comes the bad.
The bad will rip you apart. The bad will lie. The bad will tell you that you don’t belong, and you will believe it. Then the bad will attempt to kill you while you’re apart because it is when you are most vulnerable. Apart, is when it truly feeds.
How do I know this? Because I’ve witnessed it. My love, my Tethered, was taken from me. I traveled back to his land, to his home, and there he lay on the floor; however, he was not himself. He was a hollow, sunken version of himself. His eyes were gone and had turned into black holes, as black and deep as a literal blackhole, and his mouth was ajar, as if he’d been screaming as whatever this evil being was sucked the life from him.
And then I heard it return. As if it’d sensed my presence, I felt the cold wrap around me, sinking into my bones, and I fled. I ran with tears in my eyes, begging for my world to swallow me back up, and it did.
Wrapped in a blue light, I returned home, but not without seeing that evil being. The red eyes, black body, black claws. It looked right at me, as if proving it would come for me next.
It’d taken my love. It’d taken half of me. And what they don’t tell you is that when your Tether dies, so do you, just not right away. You weaken first, and you don’t eat. You don’t sleep. Your organs begin to freeze, and then they fail you. You always feel cold, even during summer. It lasts for months, a slow torture constantly reminding you of what you’ve lost.
As I write this, I’m on my deathbed, hoping what I have to say will help someone else out there with an unpredictable life such as mine.
Whatever you do, don’t walk away from your Tether. Don’t resist or fight it. Let it be. Don’t give in to the lies that what you have is unnatural. It is as natural and wondrous as nature. Stay with your other, give in to it, or the coldness will follow suit. Together, you can defeat this evil. There is always an answer, and you must find it.
I exhale, staring at the passage, reading it repeatedly. This woman…she was just like me.
I scramble for my phone and do a quick Google search of the author. She’s a beautiful Indian woman, born in New Jersey. She can’t be any older than thirty, but her eyes look wise beyond their years. A link of her obituary appears, and in one of the images, she’s holding up her book and smiling weakly. She’s in a hospital bed wearing a chunky sweater, with dark circles around her eyes. She looks beaten and worn down, not like the other images of her on the internet. She died seventeen years ago—long before I’d even heard Caz’s voice.
“So, I was right,” I whisper to myself. The Tether doesn’t make us weaker; it makes us stronger. But this completely contradicts everything Beatrix told us, which leads me to wonder who is telling the truth? And if Beatrix isn’t, why the hell would she lie to us?
Lightning strikes the sky, and the lights in my apartment flicker. The rain falls harder, pitter-pattering on the windows.
How can I tell Caz what I read? If he’s blocking me, how can I fill him in? There must be a way I can get back. How did Leah get the chance to go back?
Silvera. She’s my only hope.
I clear my throat and sit on the middle of my bed, crossing my legs and closing my eyes. I think of my wolf, and at first nothing comes to mind. There’s just darkness behind my eyelids—no images, no noise. Silence.
Then, gradually, I see something. Trees. Lots of them, towering above.
I hear breathing. She’s panting. Paws beating into the land as she dashes through the forest, her heart pounding wildly.
“Hi, girl,” I whisper, and I feel her heartbeat quicken. She feels me. “Still hunting?”
Silvera runs until she’s made it to a river. She laps up some water then sits on her hind.
“Can you go back to Caz?”
She looks all around. The water trickles quietly, the tall blades of black grass swaying. The sun is nowhere in sight. It’s gray, yet the boldness of the green leaves on the trees brings a soothing beauty. I think of what Alora said, about finding the beauty in Blackwater. She’s right. I see it now in the dips and curves of the land, the dark sparkling waters, and swaying green leaves.
Silvera rises and leaves the river, dashing through the forest, and I squeeze my eyes tighter, not wanting to lose her. Within the span of ten minutes, she’s running through a field that leads to Caz’s castle. She curves around a corner, where a small door leads inside.