Chapter 2

The sky was still dark when my alarm shattered the silence at 4:30 AM. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Ryan, though I doubted he would have stirred even if I'd screamed. He'd spent the night before whispering reassurances to Victoria in the guest bedroom while I prepared for my 'cleansing ritual.'

My hands trembled as I pulled on the old jeans I'd borrowed from the back of my closet. No point ruining my good clothes for this. The memory of Ryan's cold eyes when he'd handed me Julian's stones made my stomach clench. Five years of love—or whatever this was—and he hadn't hesitated to sacrifice me on the altar of Victoria's mysterious illness.

Queen Anne Hill loomed before me in the pre-dawn gloom, its 500 steps a gray serpent winding upward. The two river stones felt impossibly heavy in my backpack. I knelt at the bottom step, the concrete immediately cold and unyielding against my knees.

"Remember," Ryan's voice came from behind me, making me flinch. I hadn't realized he'd followed me here. "Julian says you need to focus on Victoria's healing with every step. Your negative energy caused this."

I looked over my shoulder, hoping to see some flicker of concern for me in his eyes. There was nothing but impatience.

"I understand," I whispered, turning back to the steps.

The first few steps weren't so bad. The denim protected my skin as I shuffled forward, palms pressed against the rough concrete for balance. By step twenty, a dull ache had settled into my kneecaps. By step fifty, the old injury in my right knee—a souvenir from the same car accident that had taken my parents—began to throb in earnest.

I kept going.

At step one hundred, the fabric of my jeans gave way with a soft rip. The concrete scraped against my exposed skin, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. Warm blood trickled down my shin, but I didn't stop. I couldn't. Not with Ryan watching from below, his arms crossed over his chest.

The sun rose as I climbed, bathing the hill in golden light that felt like mockery. Each step became its own universe of pain. My world narrowed to the next concrete edge, the next excruciating shuffle forward. Blood soaked through both knees of my jeans now, leaving crimson smears on the gray steps behind me.

Somewhere around step three hundred, Ryan's phone rang. He answered it immediately.

"Yes, she's doing it now," he said, his voice carrying up to me. "About halfway."

There was a pause, and then he held the phone up toward me. "Julian wants to see your progress."

I turned my tear-streaked face toward the camera, trying to smile, to show my devotion. Julian's face filled the screen, his eyes narrowed critically.

"Your aura is still clouded," he declared, stroking his beard. "You're not fully committed to the cleansing. I can see the resistance in your spirit."

"I'm trying," I gasped, my voice raw. "Please, I'm doing everything you said."

"Not with the right intention," Victoria's voice floated from somewhere off-screen. "I can feel it, Julian. She's poisoning the ritual with her resentment."

Julian nodded gravely. "You'll need to do this again at sunset. The crystal needs to be re-energized with the dying light."

My heart sank as Ryan ended the call with a curt, "She'll do it."

I continued my ascent, each step a fresh agony. When I finally reached the top, Julian was waiting, somehow having arrived before me. He handed me a clear quartz crystal with theatrical solemnity.

"Hold it to your heart," he instructed. "And pray for Victoria's healing."

I did as I was told, my bloody hands staining the crystal pink.

Twelve hours later, as the sun sank below the horizon, I found myself at the bottom of those steps again. My knees were bandaged now, but the wounds reopened with the first step. The second climb was worse than the first—my muscles screamed in protest, my injuries raw and inflamed.

By the time I finished, night had fallen completely. Ryan helped Victoria into the car first, tucking a blanket around her with tender care, before acknowledging me with a curt nod toward the back seat.

That night, I lay on the hardwood floor beside their bed, a thin blanket beneath me doing nothing to cushion my ravaged body. Ryan had insisted I sleep there—"to absorb any negative energy before it reaches Victoria," Julian had explained.

Through the darkness, I listened to Ryan's gentle murmurs as he comforted Victoria, his voice soft with an affection I'd never heard directed at me.

"It's going to be okay," he whispered to her. "I'll make sure she doesn't hurt you anymore."

I closed my eyes, tasting salt as tears slid silently down my cheeks. The crystal lay cold against my chest, and for the first time, I wondered if there was any magic that could heal what was broken inside me.