The kitchen was cold, and Tris pulled the edges of her nightrobe closer as she stepped inside, her bare feet curling in protest against the cold floor. She turned on the light and blinked her eyes against the bright fluorescence. She blinked again, but this time it was not about the light.
Blood.
It was smeared on the walls, on the appliances, on the counter, on the kitchen island. The floor however was untouched, as was the ceiling.
Her mouth dry and heart racing, she moved into the kitchen, shivering again as she approached the object on the small kitchen counter. It was a bracelet, intricately wrought and seemed to pulse with an inner light. She extended her hand, but it hovered above it, not touching. Her heart was pounding hard enough to break through her rib cage as she stared it in mute fascination. Her skin was clammy and goosebumps broke all over.
Something slammed into the window and she jumped, her hand going to her mouth to stifle a scream. Something large and dark had hit the window. Eyes stared at her before going dark and it slid off. Tris hurried to the window, flinging it open and a thread of magic shot from her hand to catch the falling bird.
She brought it into the kitchen, closing the window almost absently, her whole body shaking now as she laid the dead bird near the bracelet on the counter. She drew in a deep breath and let it out in one exhale.
How had this happened? Her eyes were drawn to the bracelet again. How had they known where to find her? Why had they left without doing anything?
She swallowed.
“Why you?” she whispered to the dead bird, “What are they trying to do?”
The bird’s glassy eyes were the only answer as the bracelet kept pulsing.
oflifeandmyths 