Chapter 70 A Door in the Water

Chapter 70 A Door in the Water
The estate was hushed in the deep hours of the night, long after the last candle in the hallways had guttered out. Lorraine lay awake, staring at the ceiling, the image of Mara being dragged into the swamp replaying behind her eyelids until she couldn’t breathe.
She couldn’t let that happen again. Not to Shanta. Not to Rhyan. Not to Roman.
If Jadis was calling her toward the door, then maybe that was the only way forward—the only way to gain the strength she needed to stop Dwade. And if it was dangerous, if it could cost someone their life…then she would not drag anyone else into it.
Decision made, Lorraine slipped quietly from her bed. She pulled on her boots and a shawl, her fingers trembling as she tied the knot. The halls were dark, but she moved quickly, silently, avoiding the squeaky floorboards she had learned too well.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she pushed open the side door of the estate. The humid night air hit her like a wall. She took a deep breath, whispering into the stillness:
“Please, Jadis. If you’re listening…help me find this door, so I can help my friends.”
The path to the water’s edge was slick with dew. Lorraine’s lantern sputtered, the flame dim and stubborn, as if warning her not to go farther. But she pressed on.
At the dock, a narrow fiberglass motorboat waited, tied to its post. The outboard motor gleamed faintly under the moonlight. She froze. She hadn’t expected a boat to be here at all, much less one fueled and ready.
Was it coincidence? Or guidance?
She untied the rope, climbed inside, and pressed the choke before pulling the starter cord. The motor sputtered once, twice, before catching with a low growl. The vibrations traveled through the hull, into her bones, into her teeth.
Lorraine swallowed and shifted the throttle forward. The boat lurched ahead, cutting through the water with a wake that glowed faintly under the moonlight.
The bayou closed around her like a throat swallowing whole. Trees leaned inward, their branches like skeletal arms. The hum of the motor drowned out the insects, but not the sensation that something else was listening.
“Show me,” she whispered to the night sky.
She kept her hands firm on the tiller, but the boat seemed to steer itself, angling down waterways she didn’t recognize. Every time she tried to question it—turn slightly left or right—the motor would resist, pulling her back into line as if caught in an invisible current.
Her chest tightened. It was no longer a question of whether she was choosing this path. The path was choosing her.
The moon broke through the clouds then, silver light scattering over the water. And there, ahead, something shimmered.
Not a structure. Not exactly. More like…a tear in the air itself. A faint outline, rectangular, standing just above the water’s surface. Like a door made of light and mist.
Lorraine’s breath caught.
She slowed the motor, guiding the boat carefully until it aligned directly with the glow. The vessel bobbed gently, the engine coughing as if reluctant to idle.
“This is it,” she breathed.
Her legs trembled as she stood, balancing against the vibrations of the motor. She stretched out her hand.
The moment her palm brushed the surface of the shimmer, the world split.
She gasped as she was yanked upward and outward, torn from her own body. She could see herself below, still standing in the boat, frozen with one hand against the glowing frame. Her hair whipped in the breeze, her shawl tugged by unseen hands. The motor rumbled faintly, steady but far away.
Then her perspective lifted higher, like she was a bird circling overhead. She saw the bayou stretch for miles, the trees like black veins on the water. And there she was, small and fragile, standing at the edge of something ancient.
The air grew thick, pressing in on her spirit. A voice whispered at the edges of her mind, too faint to understand, too heavy to ignore.
Her vision blurred.
Then everything went black.
Lorraine’s eyes flew open.
She was slumped in the boat’s seat, the motor still idling with a low growl. The shimmer was gone. The swamp was quiet again, save for the occasional splash of water and the faint buzz of cicadas.
“What…” she whispered. “What happened?”
Her memory was blank, a void where the experience should have been. She knew she had left her body. She knew she had seen something, heard something—but it had been wiped clean, like chalk erased from a board.
Yet she felt…different.
Every sound was sharper, every shadow more alive. Her skin tingled, her pulse hummed like a low drumbeat. There was power inside her now, humming, restless.
And there was something else.
The feeling of eyes. Watching.
Lorraine’s chest tightened. She shoved the throttle forward, the boat leaping back into motion. Water sprayed out behind her as she raced toward the dock.
But the feeling grew worse. Closer.
Her hair lifted, as if caught by invisible fingers. Cold brushed against her scalp—hands, running through her hair.
Lorraine choked on a sob, pressing the throttle harder. The motor whined, straining against the speed. The dock came into view, blessedly close.
She didn’t even wait for the boat to slow. She cut the motor and jumped, boots slamming against the dock.
Behind her, the swamp seemed to breathe.
Something unseen lunged. Fingers brushed her shoulder. She stumbled, nearly pitching backward into the water.
“Lorraine!”
A hand seized her wrist.
Rhyan.
Lorraine gasped as her friend yanked her hard, pulling her back onto the dock. Together, they bolted down the planks, racing toward the path to the estate.
Lorraine’s heart slammed so hard it drowned out the sound of the retreating motor, the boat still rocking at the dock. She could still feel those phantom hands, cold and insistent, dragging through her hair.
When they finally stopped, gasping for breath, Lorraine grabbed Rhyan’s arm.
“How did you know where I was?”
Rhyan’s face was pale, but her grip was steady. “Because we’re sisters of the moon. I felt you sneaking away. I knew what you were doing. And I knew I couldn’t stop you. So I protected you—from afar.”
Lorraine’s throat tightened, eyes stinging. She threw her arms around Rhyan, clinging to her.
But even as they embraced, Lorraine glanced back toward the bayou. The water gleamed silver under the moon, calm and still.
Yet she knew better.
Something had followed her. Something had touched her.
And it wasn’t done.