Page 109 of Castle of the Cursed
We’re in a hall lined with mirrors.
“Where are we?” I whisper.
“I’m not sure,” says Teo, turning in a circle to take in every angle of our situation. “My best guess is this is as close to us as Antonela has been able to get, and she’s stuck in this dimension.”
“How do we get back home?” asks Bea, nerves fraying her voice.
“I don’t know,” he says, and it strikes me that I’m no longer holding the red book in my hands. “Antonela will help us when we find her.”
I start walking, and so do infinite versions of me on either side of the hall. It’s dizzying.
“How do we find her?” I ask once my aunt and uncle catch up.
“I don’t know,” says Teo. “Maybe she finds us.”
There doesn’t seem to be an end to this hall. We alternately speed up and slow down, until we’re all breathing heavily from how long we’ve been at it. “This isn’t working,” says Bea.
“We must be doing something wrong,” says Teo. He stops walking, and I lean against a mirrored wall for support.
“Look!” says Bea, and I turn to see the surface of the glass rippling out, like it’s made of water.
When my reflection refocuses, my eyes look different. They’re pure black.
Like they’re made of smoke.
“Antonela?” I whisper.
The fumes leave her eyes, and I step back as the black smoke enters the physical space we’re in. It pulls together into a shadow with features that match my shape and profile.
Antonela is the black smoke.
She sniffs at me. Her movements are sharp and quick, awkward and feral.
In memories, she seemed so weak compared to the other casters. Yet among us, she’s terrifyingly inhuman.
My sister’s gaze lands on our aunt and uncle. Bea is wide-eyed, her face bloodless with shock, but Teo is on his knees, neck bent, like she’s a holy figure.
Antonela raises an arm, as if she’s going to strike them down—
“Please!” I say, and she spins to face me. “I-I’m sorry, and they’re sorry, for everything you’ve been through. I had no idea you existed. I only just saw your memories in a spell. Did you see mine in a spell, too?”
She keeps staring at me, but she doesn’t speak. Maybe she can’t understand English.
“We’re sisters,” I say, smiling so she knows I don’t mean her harm. “Twins, to be exact. We were born together.”
She flicks her gaze to our aunt and uncle.
“Bea is really sorry for what happened, but we can deal with them later,” I say quickly. “Right now, we want to help you.”
She takes her time surveying every inch of me. “Sister,” she says in my voice, like she’s testing the word.
“Yes!” I say, grinning at her. I can’t believe she’s actually here, and I haven’t lost her. For a moment, I’m almost giddy with glee. “I’m Estela, your sister! I’ve come to help you.”
“Help me,” she says, the evenness of her tone unnerving. “Yes, you can help me.”
There’s a hardening in my gut, like a warning system activating. Ignoring my instincts, I ask, “What do you need?”
Without hesitation, she answers: “Your body.”
