Chapter 197

[ 1,145 words ]

Empty Chair.

Macey

Morning comes far too bright for how little sleep I got. The kitchen smells like coffee, toast, and Levi’s favourite burnt bacon. It’s loud, the way it alway: when the whole family’s home. Noah and Haiden are arguing about who stole whose mug again, Lyra is tormenting Dorian by flicking crumbs at him, an Nanna is pretending not to see it because she finds it hilarious. Normal. Completely, perfectly normal. Except… one chair is empty. Elliot’s chair. It’s stu the way it hits me. He’s missed meals before, sure, briefly, when he’s out reaping or helping somewhere. But never breakfast. He’s always here. Always si beside me, stealing the crust off my toast or flicking sugar into my tea just to watch me glare. He’s never missed breakfast. Not once. I stir my cereal absently, the spoon clinking too loudly against the bowl. The others don’t seem to notice. It’s just another day for them, shifters and gods flitting betwe realms like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing for him, not for Elliot. He doesn’t just vanish.

After breakfast, the packhouse starts to scatter, some to training, or school, others to the Underworld or their ewn duties. I take my plate to the sink, rin it, then head upstairs. His door is half-open. The bed’s unmade, sheets tangled like he left in a rush. The weapons rack on the wall is empty. No jacket, n boots. Even the air feels stale, like he hasn’t been here for a while. My stomach twists. He never leaves his bed like that. He’s annoyingly neat, even when he’s pretending not to be. I hover in the doorway for a long moment before finally stepping in, just long enough to tug the blanket straight, some ridicul part of me thinking maybe it’ll make me feel better. It doesn’t.

Footsteps echo down the hall, and I turn as Mum appears, her hair braided back, eyes sharp and knowing as always. “What are you up to?” she asks, voice light but threaded with that tone that means she already knows.

“Nothing,” I say too quickly, then sigh. “Just… have you seen Elliot? Did he come home last night p>

Mum’s expression softens, just a little. She gives me a small, tight-lipped smile, the kind that hides more than it says. “Your fathers told me he’s been in t Underworld. Working. Going through some stuff, apparently p>

“Oh p>

It’s a simple word, but it lands heavy in my chest. “Going through some stuff is code for hurting.

Mum steps closer, brushing her fingers over the doorframe as she looks into the room. “He’ll come around, sweetheart. Whatever is going on, he just needs

time p>

I nod, pretending to believe her. “Yeah. Time p>

But as she turns to go, I glance back at his unmade bed and the space where his scythe should be. He’s not just working. He’s avoiding me.

After Mum leaves, I head to my room. The clock on my dresser is already flashing red at me. If I don’t leave now, I’ll be late. Again. So I throw on jeans, grab my bag, and head for the garage where the quads are already waiting, if “waiting” means bickering loud enough to wake the dead. Dorian’s yelling at Kieran for stealing his earbuds, Felix is accusing Lyra of hiding his lunch, and Lyra, in her usual queenly tone, is declaring that she doesn’t hide things, the borrows them until people prove they deserve them back. By the time we’re on the road, my patience is hanging by a thread.

“Can you all just stop?” I snap, tightening my grip on the steering wheel as Dorian and Kieran elbow each other in the back seat. “One more word, and you’re walking p>

That buys me about thirty seconds of silence. Then Lyra leans forward with a smirk. “You’re grumpy this morning p>

“Gee, wonder why,” I muster.

Kirtan stickers. “Someone didn’t get their morning Elliot time p>

10:06 am

Empty Chair

P

Tshop him a glare in the rearview mirror sharp enough to make him look away.

When we finally pull up to the school parking lot, I’m one sibling comment away from abandoning them on the curb. “Out,” I say, jerking my thumb tow

the door.

They scatter, still arguing about something or other as they disappear toward the main building. I take a deep breath, counting to five before climbing or the car myself. The air smells like wet grass and cheap perfume, typical Red Moon High morning. Students swarm the courtyard.

“Morning, sunshine p>

I turn

to see Tessa walking toward me, two coffees in hand and the same bright grin she’s had since we were twelve.

gel,” I groan, taking one from her. “If I didn’t love you already, I would now p>

my daily compliment,” she laughs, bumping my shoulder as we fall into step together. “Rough morning p>

togethe

p of the coffee; it’s sweet, hot, and perfect. “Something like that p>

her head, studying me. “You look like you’ve been thinking too hard again p>

sam.” I try to sound casual, shrugging one shoulder. “Just… family stuff p>

hums sympathetically, looping her arm through mine as we head toward first period. “Well, lucky for you, we have a pop quiz in history, so that shoul

istract you p>

“Fantastic,” I deadpan.

She grins wider. “See? I’m full of good news p>

I can’t help it, I laugh. It’s small, but it’s the first real laugh I’ve had since yesterday.

Tessa and I slid into our usual seats just as the bell rang. I tried to remember why history was essential to people who could cross dimensions. The teacher. Mr Graves, who is old, kind, and perpetually tired, was halfway through taking roll when the door creaked open. Every head in the room turned. A boy stood there, one hand shoved casually into his pocket, the other gripping a crumpled slip of paper. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with dark hair that brushed,.re edge of his collar and eyes the colour of smoke, grey, sharp, and too amused for this early in the morning.

“Ah,” Mr Graves said, adjusting his glasses. “You must be our new transfer. Dean… Blackmore, was it p>

“Dean’s fine,” he replied, voice smooth enough to draw a few quiet sighs from the girls behind us.

Mr Graves pointed toward the only empty seat, the one right beside me. “Take a seat, Mr Blackmore. We’re just about to start p>

Dean’s gaze swept the room before landing of me. His grin widened, just slightly, like fate had done him a personal favour. He sauntered over, ull caini confidence and long strides, and dropped into the chair next to mine. His arm brushed the edge of my desk as he sat, and I caught a faint whilf of something.

“Hey, he

1 bl

ine. “I’m Dean p>

29

10:06 am

Goddess Of The Underworld

Juliet Zvayi

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