over losing him, but I’m stronger for it and I’d like to think I make him proud.”
“I bet you do. He would’ve been impressed seeing you in action last night.”
“I didn’t think of it that way,” he laughed. “Just so we’re clear — what happened last night was real, right? I’ve played the whole thing over a million times in my mind.”
“I’m pretty sure it was. I wouldn’t be here talking with you otherwise.”
We got to the airport just in time. I didn’t have any baggage to check, so we went right to the security gate with only a few minutes to spare.
“I’m going to leave you here. They won’t let me through unless I have a ticket or show my badge. If you see anything, tell the flight staff immediately.” His words weren’t exactly encouraging but there wasn’t much else we could do. “You’ll be fine; the flight’s only a couple of hours. I’m going to meet you there as soon as I can. Have your parents pick you up from the airport and let me know when you arrive.”
The entire time I was walking to my plane, I had the feeling I was being watched. I kept looking around expecting to see someone staring at me, but I couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling was coming from.
When I got to the gate, everyone was already boarding. I stood there watching the line dwindle as people pushed past me. I should have been getting on this flight, but something inside my head was pulling me away. They were announcing the last boarding call now. I started to move, but instead of going toward my terminal, I walked to the next, and then the next.
I didn’t know where I was going, but I kept walking until I got to another security checkpoint. I wasn’t sure if the guards would stop me, but I went through anyway. The more I wandered, the more the feeling of being watched grew, until my head started pounding. I crossed over to an empty waiting area. There was nobody at the ticket-checking booth, but the doors were open to enter the plane. My vision began to fade in and out, but I was still moving forward. I could make out the word “private” on one of the signs in the terminal.
“What am I doing? I need to go back,” I said out loud.
I was halfway down the wrong boarding tunnel when my head cleared. I could see the shadow of someone behind me, but when I turned to face whoever it was, they were gone. The sound of whistling came from down the tunnel. I turned back around to see the swordsman from last night standing there with his hands on his hips.
This is it. I’m going to die.
He vanished before I could say anything. Then came a sharp pain in the back of my head and everything went black.
I regained consciousness to the sound of several voices in the distance. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. A minimal source of light came from beyond the curtains of ceiling-high windows.
The king-sized bed under me was done up like one you would see in a museum exhibit of Old World European royalty. The fabric was intricately detailed in floral patterns that matched the many different-sized pillows on either side of me. Each pillow was adorned with gold thread and tassels, which made me think they were more for show than comfort.
There were similar ornate details in the furniture. A large mirror with a gold frame stood alongside an armoire of dark wood in the far corner of the room. Two antique-looking night tables adjacent to the bed displayed elaborate candelabras complete with fresh ivory-colored candles.
A conversation broke out on the other side of the door to my left.
“Welcome home, Noah,” said a woman with a French accent. “You were gone longer than expected. I had begun to miss you. It must have been nice to be abroad again.”
She seemed friendly, but something about her manner of speech was overly polite and formal.
I heard a familiar voice answer, “I was enjoying the freedom.” It was the swordsman.
“Well, where is it?” the woman asked.
“I dumped
“I bet you do. He would’ve been impressed seeing you in action last night.”
“I didn’t think of it that way,” he laughed. “Just so we’re clear — what happened last night was real, right? I’ve played the whole thing over a million times in my mind.”
“I’m pretty sure it was. I wouldn’t be here talking with you otherwise.”
We got to the airport just in time. I didn’t have any baggage to check, so we went right to the security gate with only a few minutes to spare.
“I’m going to leave you here. They won’t let me through unless I have a ticket or show my badge. If you see anything, tell the flight staff immediately.” His words weren’t exactly encouraging but there wasn’t much else we could do. “You’ll be fine; the flight’s only a couple of hours. I’m going to meet you there as soon as I can. Have your parents pick you up from the airport and let me know when you arrive.”
The entire time I was walking to my plane, I had the feeling I was being watched. I kept looking around expecting to see someone staring at me, but I couldn’t pinpoint where the feeling was coming from.
When I got to the gate, everyone was already boarding. I stood there watching the line dwindle as people pushed past me. I should have been getting on this flight, but something inside my head was pulling me away. They were announcing the last boarding call now. I started to move, but instead of going toward my terminal, I walked to the next, and then the next.
I didn’t know where I was going, but I kept walking until I got to another security checkpoint. I wasn’t sure if the guards would stop me, but I went through anyway. The more I wandered, the more the feeling of being watched grew, until my head started pounding. I crossed over to an empty waiting area. There was nobody at the ticket-checking booth, but the doors were open to enter the plane. My vision began to fade in and out, but I was still moving forward. I could make out the word “private” on one of the signs in the terminal.
“What am I doing? I need to go back,” I said out loud.
I was halfway down the wrong boarding tunnel when my head cleared. I could see the shadow of someone behind me, but when I turned to face whoever it was, they were gone. The sound of whistling came from down the tunnel. I turned back around to see the swordsman from last night standing there with his hands on his hips.
This is it. I’m going to die.
He vanished before I could say anything. Then came a sharp pain in the back of my head and everything went black.
I regained consciousness to the sound of several voices in the distance. It took a while for my eyes to adjust to the dark room. A minimal source of light came from beyond the curtains of ceiling-high windows.
The king-sized bed under me was done up like one you would see in a museum exhibit of Old World European royalty. The fabric was intricately detailed in floral patterns that matched the many different-sized pillows on either side of me. Each pillow was adorned with gold thread and tassels, which made me think they were more for show than comfort.
There were similar ornate details in the furniture. A large mirror with a gold frame stood alongside an armoire of dark wood in the far corner of the room. Two antique-looking night tables adjacent to the bed displayed elaborate candelabras complete with fresh ivory-colored candles.
A conversation broke out on the other side of the door to my left.
“Welcome home, Noah,” said a woman with a French accent. “You were gone longer than expected. I had begun to miss you. It must have been nice to be abroad again.”
She seemed friendly, but something about her manner of speech was overly polite and formal.
I heard a familiar voice answer, “I was enjoying the freedom.” It was the swordsman.
“Well, where is it?” the woman asked.
“I dumped
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