Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147649 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 738(@200wpm)___ 591(@250wpm)___ 492(@300wpm)
“If I could do more,” I tell the gods of dungeons, “I would!”
And just as I say that, a single, sparkling gem doorknob appears back in the wall.
5
“It’s a game.” These words come out of my mouth, unbidden, as I stare at the single, glowing doorknob on the wall. For a moment, I’m slightly elated. Slightly. Still guarded. Because, of course, this is all a game and I’m being set up for something.
Not to mention that particular doorknob is the very one I’ve already used. It’s the one with the designation “Smart Friend” scratched above it on the stone.
I throw up my hands, exasperated. “Well, what am I supposed to do with that? Play dolls and have tea with the little girl? How is that going to save Pell, and Pie, and the sanctuary, and the monsters, and my Madeline!”
I roar the last part. Angry now.
They’re playing with me.
Like always.
This is the story of my life.
I walk over to the nest, sit down, and rest my elbows on my knees, propping up my chin with my fists. “Is this the point, then? Make me feel defeated and helpless? Worthless?”
“What?”
I jump up, surprised at Madeline’s voice. Then relief floods through me. Because I really thought that last conversation was, well, our last. For a very long time, at least. “Madeline! You’re awake again.”
“Was I sleeping?” She peers out at me from the shadows, her face covered in those blood-red scales.
I exhale, tired. “No, darling. You’re… changing.”
“I can feel it. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
My first instinct is to lie. I want to comfort her. But comfort built on lies isn’t comfort at all. It’s… betrayal. “It is, love. You’re going to be a dragon. And being a dragon is pretty much the most horrible thing that could ever happen to someone.”
She chuckles. But it’s clear she’s in pain. “It can’t be that bad. You’re not horrible.”
“Oh”—I sigh—“but I am. It’s just… I’ve had a few thousand years to ripen and consider my actions before I give in to the monster that lives inside me. But you, darling. You’ve got thousands of years ahead of you before you will get to this point.”
And in that time, she will learn to hate herself. Everything about who and what she is will fill her with self-loathing.
I wish we had let her die.
It would’ve been the right thing to do.
But I was selfish. And in the middle of destroying things. And Batty didn’t save Madeline for me, actually. Did he? No. He saved Madeline to stop me. To pacify me. To make me stop destroying things.
He saved her in order to save everyone else.
And just as I think this, Madeline growls at me and slinks back into the shadows, reverting back to her dragon state.
I walk back over to the still-glowing gemstone in the wall. And this time, the words that come out of my mouth are pure of heart and have nothing to do with me.
A girl she is, through and through,
Not a dragon, nor a shrew.
A life of joy she deserves,
Give her that and I will serve.
The doorknob gemstone glows a bright gold color and then it begins to blink.
Could this be it?
Is the secret to ask for things, not for yourself, but for others?
I reach for the knob, holding my breath, and when my fingertips wrap around it, it loosens in my palm and I pull it out of the wall.
I let my breath out as well. And then I walk over to the door, plug the doorknob in, and—with zero expectations about what might come next—I open it.
6
I can’t see what’s on the other side of the door. It’s just a muddled blur. But this door is all I have. It’s my last chance to save the family I so desperately want. So what else can I do but walk through?
I pass over the threshold of the door and end up in…
I blink a few times, trying to put it all together.
I’ve been here.
I step away from the door and look around, then smile as I take in the hookah in the middle of the small room. This is the truth-or-dare room. The very one where I had my first kiss on a dare from Pell.
There is still a wheel of sorts painted on the floor. A circle divided into twelve parts, with three of the parts labeled, just as they were before.
House of Moths.
House of Bucks.
House of Dragons.
We played a game in here. And at the time, I figured that’s all it was. A game. Something children do. Not a Game with a capital letter G, something gods use to move monsters and people around on their playing board.
The room has not changed since Russ Roth appeared downstairs and we had to rush out. There are fancy velvet pillows strewn about and I picture the three of us in here, just before that stupid sheriff made his way into the sanctuary and everything changed.