Chapter 92 What Perfect Looks Like
Bella
The path doesn’t change right away. That’s the first thing that unsettles me, because after everything we’ve just survived in this weird, backwards place...I expect something immediate like a reaction, a consequence, some grand signal that we’ve stepped onto a different story altogether. Hell, I expect a grenade to be thrown any second, forcing us to duck for cover again. Instead, the world simply… continues. The brick beneath us remains solid and even, each dark red stone laid with impossible precision. The trees lining the road stand tall, silent, and evenly spaced. Everything about this place feels...right, which is how I know it's really wrong. Which, given everything we’ve just come through, feels deeply, profoundly suspicious. I sit astride the dragon’s back, my legs draped carefully along the ridge of his spine, fingers curled into the raised edges of his scales more for comfort than necessity. He moves with a steady, ground-eating stride now, wings tucked tight, massive body relaxed but alert in that way of an apex predator. There is power in every step he takes. Gilfred perches on my shoulder, little claws gripping the fabric of my cloak as he basks shamelessly in the warmth radiating off the dragon’s scales. He flicks his tail against my jaw once, clearly unimpressed to be dragged here with us.
I sigh. “I know,” I murmur to him. “This does feel like a trap. But we’re doing really well so far, and I’d like to enjoy that for at least another thirty seconds.”
Gilfred clicks softly, unconvinced.
The dragon hums beneath me, a low vibration that travels straight through my bones. You are allowed moments of peace, Snowflake, he says.
That thought warms me more than the dragon’s heat ever could. He really is such a softy. Though I'll probably avoid ever telling him that.
The path stretches on, brick after brick disappearing beneath us, until a door stands directly in the middle of it. An oddly plain, simple, hardwood door. It's just there, right in the middle of the pathway. Upright. Wooden. Ordinary enough that my mind stutters trying to process it. It has a handle, a frame, even faint scuff marks near the bottom like someone once kicked it in frustration. Beyond it, visible through the open space around the frame, is… more path. More trees. More of the same quiet, unsettling forest.
“That,” I say slowly, leaning forward to peer at it, “is deeply rude.”
Gilfred tilts his head. The dragon slows, then stops entirely, his massive body blocking the path behind us as his gaze locks onto the door with open hostility.
This thing does not belong, he growls.
“Nothing here belongs,” I remind him gently.
Heat ripples beneath me as Damien shifts, the dragon’s form dissolving in a wash of power until suddenly there is a very naked, very human king, catching me in the middle of the brick road. He does not look pleased as he studies the door. It's like he’s already mapping how to destroy it.
“We go around it,” he says.
“Excellent plan,” I agree immediately. “I’m all for ignoring the ominous forest door.”
I get to my feet and take three steps to the left, and I walk straight into something solid. There’s no warning, just the abrupt, bone-jarring stop of my nose nearly colliding with an invisible wall. I blink, then press my palm forward. It's firm, unyielding...nothingness.
“…Okay,” I mutter. “Rude and pushy.”
Damien tries the right with the same result.
Damien exhales slowly, the sound tight. “This could be a trap.”
“Everything here is a trap,” I reply lightly. “At least this one doesn't have a jumpscare...hopefully.”
He turns to me, eyes dark and serious. “I’ll go first.”
I snort. “Be my guest.”
“If something happens—”
“I’ll scream,” I assure him. “Loudly. Possibly creatively.”
He doesn’t smile, but he does step closer, lowering his voice. “Bella.”
I meet his gaze, and all my teasing fizzles out from the look in his eyes. “Hey, it'll be okay, just keep walking, right?”
His jaw tightens slightly, but he keeps his composure as he reaches for the door. It opens easily, and beyond it is a small room with stone walls, torchlight flickering warmly, a wooden table set neatly in the centre, as if someone expects guests. Nothing hostile. Nothing strange...if you don't count literally everything that is happening here. Damien pauses on the threshold, glancing back at me one last time.
“I’ll be right there,” he says.
Then he steps through and vanishes.
The doorframe stands empty...The room beyond it remains. My chest seizes so hard I can’t breathe.
“Damien?”
No answer, shit, that's not good. Shit. Shit. Shit. I don’t weigh consequences, consider traps, or listen to reason. I surge forward with a sound that tears out of me like something between a scream and a battle cry, frost already burning hot beneath my skin as I throw myself after him.
“DAMIEEEEN—”
The world snaps.
My feet hit the ground with a solid thud instead of the sickening lurch I expected. The magic I’d been holding surges uselessly, with nowhere to go, and fizzles against my ribs like it’s been smothered. I stagger to a stop, breath coming hard.
“Bella?” Damien. “Is that you, darling?”
A rush of calm washes over me, settling my nerves instantly, knowing that he's here. I spin slowly — and freeze. This isn’t a forest...Not the first one, or the second one. This is...well, it looks like a home. Sunlight spills through wide windows dressed in pale linen curtains that flutter softly in a breeze I can’t feel. Polished wooden floors are beneath my boots. A fireplace lines one wall, and the mantle is carefully arranged with framed pictures. Pictures that make my stomach do a complete loop de loop, because they're of Damien and me. Pictures of us that we've never taken. We're laughing, holding each other, living in moments I don’t remember. I scan them and stop when my eyes fall on some of children... They have his dark hair and my eyes...Their tiny hands wrapped around fingers too big for them, grins wide and unguarded and impossibly real but definitely not... I would remember that.
“What the...” I whisper.
Footsteps sound behind me, and I turn to see Damien standing in the doorway, but I know instantly that's not my Damien. This one looks...Peaceful, untouched and unburdened. This is a man who has never known fear, and it doesn't sit right with me. I don’t belong in a world that hasn’t hurt us. I liked the one that had shaped us just the way we were. Perfectly imperfect.
I reach inward. Dragon?
Nothing answers. Shit. I instinctively look for Gilfred... Double shit. He's gone too.
"Are you okay, my love?" Fake Damien worries and steps closer to me. "You look a little pale. Should I put on a pot of tea?"
I take a small step backwards. My Damien would scowl at tea. Tea is for pussies, that's what he would think... Okay, Bella, deep breaths, you will have to burn this perfect lie to the ground to get him back. Channel your inner Ashlyn and find a bloody matchstick.