Emile was beginning to get sick of burying the dead. No, not really beginning. He was sick of it; very sick of it, if only because he had watched many a person die and then dug their grave. He wasnât old at this point in his life, but he wasnât exactly young either. Just tired and beginning to feel the wear and tear of ten years of digging graves.
But thatâs what he did and thatâs who he was. Part of him was dead inside at this point. It was a cliçhe sounding thing, but Emile had lost count of the amount of bodies heâd found, and that kind of thing had itâs effect on you. So he sighed and went to work daily and avoided getting all too close to people on the chance they died.Â
Following his same path, head down, Emile walked towards work. He looked up to step out of the way of someone headed in the opposite direction, offering them a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgement.
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Turning her gaze to the ground, Cordelia bit at her lower lip, her head resting against the cold brick exterior of the building. As she heard a voice behind her, the slender woman startled, her eyes widening. âFuck,â she mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. âDo I know you?â she questioned bluntly, eyes scanning the other person.
Hoisting her purse over her shoulder, Evangeline strolled down the street, her smile surprisingly bright. She had been in an uncharacteristically wonderful mood for the past few days, and even knocking into the shoulder of another person barely diminished that. Smiling apologetically, she backed away, starting to say her apologies when she noticed the other personâs familiar face. âYou look familiar,â she stated bluntly, pushing dark hair out of her eyes.
âFuck--â That was the only word that seemed appropriate of the affect ten years had had on her old work place and once favorite watering hole. Ten years did little to change her tendency to swear. The fury nodded over at her old manager, theyâd never really spoken much but the unspoken nature of their friendship was something she appreciated. He didnât tell her much sheâd cost them in damages and she kept the riffraff out. She sat herself at the bar and ordered properly for the first ever time in her history with the Anti-Hero. âWell I donât know about you, but Iâm staying here all fucking night.â
 Despite his deep-rooted resentment, Rowan could not deny that the answer he was given ten years ago was the last puzzle piece to the bigger pictureâa perfect match, as its unexpected shape had explained the rest of the enigmatic pieces with undoubtable certainty. Methods of transportation were always going to be tough, as, iron and metal were a faeâs worst nightmare.
 But when one finds the answer, one can work towards a solution, and in his secretive studies Rowan concocted a viable means to travel that eliminated seventy-seven percent of the adverse side effects experienced while in close contact to machinery.
 It really did work like a charmâheâd could be rich if he sold his secrets to the faeriesâbut there was something about sitting on the park bench and feeling the soil and earth underneath his feet through socks and shoes that put him at peace. By plane or by car, Rowan would always appreciate the time he spent with two feet on the ground.
 In his peripheral view he could see the outlines of a figure, as he was keen to ignore them and mind his own business on his phone. Yet, when it appeared they werenât going to leave him to his personal space, Rowanâs head pivoted towards them.
 His blank expression tightened with shock. âOh⊠oh my god,â he said in between a shaking breath âItâs you.â
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Thalia, ten years ago,was a soft edge girl with smiling lips and a void in her chest. Today, the void remains but her edges are no longer soft and she keeps smiles like secrets, of which she has many.
I. The perfect life Alaster had given her was charmed to start with, those long ten years prior. Thalia did feel a dart of guilt any time she saw a remnant of her old life but she couldn't say the new one wasn't at least somewhat enjoyable. She owned an estate and could afford the education she had dreamed of. Even if the sisterhood that was the furies wasn't wholly inviting, she was a part of it. The satisfaction Thalia thought she would feel wasn't there though. She had everything and it wasn't enough.
II. Thalia had breezed through college. It had been one of the few things that kept her sane, from slipping into a dark place of thought. New life or old, cooking was always a comfort for Thalia and now she had a degree in it. Her hands had become rougher from the constant whisking and kneading and accidental burning. Callouses on her hands felt like some kind of accomplishment.
III. Head chef was definitely a title Thalia could get behind. Ordering people around the kitchen wasn't easy to begin with but she got used to it. If people called her bossy, well, it was a small price to pay to have the job of her dreams. This sentiment made Thalia think back to when she had first used this logic five years ago. She nearly burned her hand on the stove top as she wondered as she often did if it had been worth it.
IV. Money became something for common people years ago. It didn't seem important when you were practically drowning in it. Thaliaâs first year as head chef, though thrilling, didn't fill the black hollow in her chest. She sought out some new thrill, found it in the people who desired to be around the almost plastic perfection of her life. Thalia welcomed them in with open arms, happy to have the company, for a price. Tell me your secrets, she would whisper, and you can have whatever you wish.
V. She kept a book of them, the secrets. The pages were filled with ink black looping script. Out of kindness, Thalia left the names out. There was no intention to use them for blackmail or anything of the like. Having these secrets had produced closer relationships in Thaliaâs life, a thing she had craved since childhood. And when the house was quiet and the loneliness and guilt came knocking, Thalia would pull the book from under the mattress and read it. It was a reminder that she wasn't the only one who had done whatever it took to get what she wanted.
She didnât think life would change. No, she wasnât that naive. She didnât think life would change the way it did.
College flew by. She had a bad patch with her grades but she got herself back in the end. Nyx found her way and graduated with her full degree and honors. The furies won every competition they even dared to look at and she felt like all the years sheâd pushed towards an unspecific goal had paid off in everything coming good by the time she graduated. Cheerleading had never been very important to her, the furies were far more important than winning; the fact that they did win was just a bonus.
Nyx had always prided herself on being very ready for adventure. Of course her last two years of college had been tumultuous but nothing that really sated her wanderlust. Dee had kept her updated on her travels across every lake and through every valley and though she never said it she was a little jealous. There was that and sheâd missed the girl, that however sheâd never live down if she said it. Nyx had come home after the day of her graduation to get ready with Aurora for the night ahead, but had been left at the door by an arguably awkward best friend. When she got inside their little dorm, yes they stayed in the dorm, there was the traveler herself waiting to ask Nyx if sheâd join her on her journey.
Nyx never really saw herself as part of anyone elseâs plan and for Dee to want to involve her was one of the most amazing feelings sheâd ever felt. The thought that out of everyone she was the one person that stood out still never fails to get her smiling. The fury didnât even go out properly that night, she was far too ready to go see and do everything sheâd been missing out on. After emotional goodbyes with her fury sisters and all the connections sheâd made in Barton Hollow they were off. Nyx didnât find it hard to go because Dee was a compelling person to be around at the best of times, and it made her feel like there wasnât anything else she was supposed to be doing.
They went everywhere and did everything together. The dynamism between the two was unmatched. They worked off the same page and Nyx knew that without hesitation there wasnât anything she wouldnât do for Dee. Their beginnings back in high school had been physical and shallow but it had transformed into something incredibly special. Nyxâs idea of movie romance was never really lost because Dee managed to do a good job of being her cliche kiss in the rain even when the sun was shining.
Even though theyâd traveled everywhere there was one place that seemed to come up more often than not. Barton Hollow was a part of them both whether that had good connotations or not. They both decided that it was probably in their best interest to just get over their curiosity and go back to visit the place they used to call home. What difference could ten years make?
Her expression melancholy and weary, Sienna stood by the edge of the ocean, letting the salty waves just touch her bare feet. Bringing her arms around her slender frame and shivering despite her coat, she stared out at the slowly setting sun. Go home, Sienna. Youâre not as daring as you were once, and you know how much trouble you could find yourself in just by being here. Go. Sighing softly, she turned, just about to depart from the beach when her eyes rested upon another person who had been lingering behind here. âOh. Hello there,â she greeted, barely able to bring a smile to her face. âI didnât notice you.â
