Immortal Consequences(110)

He summoned the runes from his fingertips. Dismantling illusions wasn’t his strong suit, but he knew enough to get by. Enough to save himself.

“Amor, enough of that.” His mom chuckled, and the sound of her laughter fluttered like a wind chime. “Come help me.”

“I can’t.” Emilio gritted his teeth as the tears prickled behind his eyes. He shouldn’t interact with the illusion, shouldn’t indulge it, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d spent every night at Blackwood dreaming of seeing his mom one last time, of hearing her voice again. If only he could stay for a few minutes. Just a bit more time.

“There he is!” A booming voice echoed behind him. Emilio flinched, dropping his hands, the runes disintegrating.

His dad stood with a newspaper tucked beneath his arm. The morning light pooling in through the window illuminated his brown skin and the scruff of his gray-speckled beard. He looked so real—so painfully human.

“Papá?”

“We’ve been waiting for you,” his dad chuckled, patting Emilio on the back. The warmth of his callused palms was too much. It felt familiar. Solid. Like his dad wasn’t simply an illusion but flesh and blood.

“Why don’t you sit down?” his mom asked with a soft smile. “I’m almost done with breakfast.”

“I—” Emilio staggered backward. A rushing tide had swept through him, wiping away all rational thoughts from his brain. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” His dad walked over to his mom and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Look. We even saved you a seat.”

Emilio glanced between his parents in disbelief. “This…this isn’t real.”

They tilted their heads in unison. His dad’s smile faltered, but only for a second, the warmth washing over his face once more.

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “Sit with us, Emilio. Please. We’ve missed you.”

“I know.” Emilio choked back the lump in his throat, stepping away from his parents until his back was against the wall behind him. “I’ve missed you too. But…I can’t do this. I have to let you go.”

He reached out his hands and summoned the runes once again. His head throbbed as he arranged the runes over and over, pulling them apart and reconstructing them. He could see the seams of the illusion now—the corners that didn’t look right. His parents glitched. Their faces melting like wax candles.

“Stop,” his mom’s voice whispered somewhere among the entropy and chaos.

“Please,” his dad begged.

But Emilio couldn’t stay. These weren’t his real parents, because his real parents were gone. Severed from his existence by the unfairness of death. For so long, Emilio had thought he could hold on to his parents by clinging to the past, by denying reality and shoving acceptance into the back of his mind. But he knew the truth now.

“I’m sorry.”

With those two words, the illusion became nothing but fragments of light and color, and Emilio brushed them away with his fingertips, destroying what remained.

He was thrown back onto the ground as he regained consciousness, his knees hitting the frozen lake beneath him. The cold air rushed into his lungs as he pressed his hands against the ice.

He had done it. He was free. He had dismantled the illusion.

But when he glanced up, prepared to find his way back to the arch, he realized that somebody was standing in front of him.

It was Olivier.

But it wasn’t.

Bloodred eyes stared down at him. Two rows of rotten black teeth.

It was the replica of Olivier he had fought in the maze. When it spoke, its voice sounded distorted, dipped in sandpaper and coated in rusted nails.

“Tell me, my love. What’s the point of going back?”

Emilio was still on his hands and knees. His entire body trembled, not from the cold but from the terror uncoiling its claws in his chest.

“I don’t—” His voice broke, cracking painfully. “I don’t understand.”

The replica of Olivier squatted down in front of him, meeting his gaze. It tilted its head, amusement glittering in its blood-soaked eyes.

“You know just as well as I do that you don’t stand a chance of winning. You’re nothing like them. You don’t have what it takes. I can help you end it. Cut the cord. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable. And I promise to make it painless.”

Emilio shook his head. “No.”

“There’s no escaping this.”

But maybe there was. Behind the replica, dotted on the horizon, was the same arch Emilio had walked through. And before he had the chance to overthink, to doubt the bravery building in his chest, Emilio jolted onto his feet and ran.

He pushed past the replica, legs burning, chest heaving. It was only a few more yards. A few more steps. He could make it. He was fast. The wind zipped by, brushing against his hair, coating his skin in its icy breath.

His mind latched onto Olivier. The sound of his voice. The warmth of his touch.

He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t lose him. He couldn’t—

One moment Emilio was running away from the replica, eyes fixed on the arch in the distance, and the next he was thrown to the ground, the force of the blow sending a sharp, splintered crack through the frozen lake.

The replica was on top of him. Emilio writhed helplessly. He kicked. He scratched. Anything to escape. To free himself. But the replica was stronger. It pinned his arms down, a perverse smile spread across its lips, savoring his fear, practically drinking it in.