Lost in a chapter

Tora held the book her dying mother had just given her, its leather cover etched with curling, otherworldly designs. “This book was with you when you were found,” her mother, Lacey, explained, pausing as the hospital machines wheezed faintly beside her. “The adoption agency said your biological parents may have left it for you. I thought of giving it to you so many times, but after everything you've been through… the therapy, the healing… your father and I decided to wait. We wanted the time to be right.” She took a shaky breath, her voice soft but steady. “Go and enjoy your life, my love. Find those places you’ve always dreamed of.” Tora felt her throat tighten, but she swallowed her grief for her mother’s sake. This wasn’t the time to break down. Instead, she smiled, leaning forward to kiss her mother’s forehead. “Thank you, Ma, for everything. You just rest now. I promise I’ll take care of myself.” She hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. “What will you do on the other side?” Her mother’s lips curved into a faint smile. “First, I’ll clip your father’s ears for making you water his plastic plants,” she said, a soft chuckle escaping her. Tora laughed lightly, the memory of her father’s humour warming her heart. “Tell him I still water them,” she replied with a tearful smile. Lacey’s hand grew weaker in hers, and her pulse began to fade. Tora held on tightly, not letting go until her mother’s final breath. Two weeks later, Tora still hadn’t left her parents’ home. The walls carried too many memories, anchoring her in place. As she sorted through the lounge room, her gaze fell on the book she had left on the side table. Unopened. Forgotten. Curiosity stirred, and she picked it up. The cover felt cold beneath her fingers, the intricate designs catching the light in strange ways. She opened it carefully, only to find... nothing. The pages were blank. She flipped through them, front to back, her frustration mounting. “Why would they leave me a blank book?” she muttered, her voice laced with irritation. In a burst of anger, she hurled the book onto the floor. It landed with a thud, the pages fluttering open. Then, something happened. Dark ink began to seep across the paper, forming shapes and symbols. Tora froze, her heart pounding. She edged closer, peering at the book in disbelief. “Is this really happening?” she whispered. Before she could process it, the air around her shifted. The room seemed to fold in on itself, the walls dissolving into shadows that pressed against her skin like thick fog. The air grew dense and heavy, making it hard to breathe. Then, without warning, she was falling, plunging into light, into colour, into the unknown. Tora gasped as her feet met solid ground. Her heart raced, and she struggled to catch her breath. Slowly, her surroundings came into focus. Towering black trees loomed around her, their twisted branches clawing at the sky like ancient sentinels. Beneath her feet, a golden vine began to unfurl, illuminating the darkness in its wake. It seemed to invite her, urge her forward. Against her better judgement, she followed. The vines blossomed with flowers of unparalleled beauty. Their scent was intoxicating, sweet and enticing, like warm honey in the summer sun. She hardly noticed the chill in the air, or how her fingers had instinctively plucked a flower. The nectar touched her lips before she had noticed what she was doing, its sweetness overwhelming her senses, soothing her fears, and quieting her thoughts. The vines led her towards the sunlight, to a river of crystalline blue, its waters glinting with an inviting light. Without hesitation, she plunged into its depths, letting the icy liquid embrace her. But the beauty of this world had a sharp edge. The sweetness of the flowers turned to dizziness, their aftertaste a venom she had unwittingly consumed. The river carried her downstream, and as her vision blurred, she caught a glimpse of movement, a figure in the distance diving into the water with swift grace. Then, darkness claimed her. When she awoke, she was in a room unlike any she had seen before. The bed beneath her was soft, the sheets luxurious, yet her body ached as if it had been wrung dry. A voice, gentle but unfamiliar, cut through the haze. “You’re awake,” the voice said. Tora turned her head and froze, her breath catching in her chest. The being before her was not human, her wings tucked behind her in hues of gold and copper, each feather catching the light as if it held a quiet fire. Her hair tumbled in rich waves, deep and dark with hints of burnished tones, framing a face so striking it felt like art come to life. The stranger tilted her head, smirking slightly at Tora’s reaction. “You’re not going to scream, are you?” Tora stammered an apology, though her heart still raced with fear and awe. “I… I didn’t mean to, it’s just, where am I? Who are you? What are you?” The woman smiled, her sharp features softening. “My name is Marthos. And as for what I am… let’s just say I’m the one who’s been keeping you alive after your little indulgence in Luminarias.” The word was foreign on Tora’s tongue. “Luminarias?” “The flowers,” Marthos said, her tone edged with amusement. “Beautiful, aren’t they? Dangerous too. Another hour in the water and you might have been lost to the river. You’re lucky the Commander found you.” Tora’s mind reeled. The flowers, the river, the book. It all felt impossible. She shook her head, muttering, “This can’t be real.” Marthos’s expression turned serious. “Oh, it’s real,” she said, each word feeling heavy to process. Marthos could see the panic written on Tora’s face. “Relax,” she said softly, her smile reassuring. “You’re safe now. It’s a lot to process, I know. Let me bring you something to eat and drink, you’ll feel better.” As Marthos left, Tora felt her breath quicken, the room pressing in around her. She stumbled to the open window, desperate for air. Her mind screamed at her as if her eyes were betraying her. This place couldn’t physically exist. Tora pressed her palms against the cool, stony windowsill, her breath curling into faint, foggy wisps as it met the biting cold air. Odd, she thought, leaning back and forth experimentally. The chill lingered only at the window’s edge, as though the cold from outside dared not creep any further. The view seemed almost familiar, like her dreams were vivid and alive. The large trees were stretched evenly far into the horizon, catching the perfect view of the two moons in different phases. It was like she had seen it many times before, and each time she saw it, it felt like the first time all over again.