CHAPTER 14

Abigail

We all know he messed up. My father is pale as he watches the prince wipe his face and retreat. When the prince is out of sight, his soldier grabs my father by the collar and pulls him close.

“You will pay for this,” he growls.

Quinn

The above ground portion of Atlas’s house was modern and stylish. The outside looker would never know that hidden in the basement was a labyrinth of stone hallways lit by long metal torches. The under part of his house stretched in every direction, and I wondered if it connected to any other houses in the neighborhood.

Atlas held my hand as he guided me down the basement stairs. They started out a modern gray wood color - but quickly led to a bolted wooden door. Atlas pulled the key out of his back pocket.

“Are you going to murder me and hide my body down here?” I asked, trying to make a joke that actually sounded quite feasible.

“If I was going to kill you, Quinn, I would have done it a long time ago,” he said.

The torches lining the basement hallway were already lit, and I wondered if they were always like that. The dark hallway reminded me of Atlas’s stone tomb.

“This is freaking creepy,” I said. Atlas just laughed.

We only walked for a minute before we reached another wooden door.

“The Ellroy family secrets,” Atlas said in a pretend-spooky voice.

Atlas pushed the door open and led me inside. This small room had a single electric light hanging from the ceiling, and it looked more like a room that belonged in a museum rather than in a house. Dozens of documents were displayed around the room, clearly protected under thick glass.

“The prophecy is here?” I asked, looking around. For whatever reason, I hadn’t expected the prophecy to be written on a physical piece of paper. A crystal ball seemed better suited to hold information so dire.

The documents were clearly aged, many of the papers a yellowish color with inky scrawled handwriting.

Atlas nodded and explained, “There were only 6 people present when the witch made the prophecy. My mom was one of them of course. Another - Mr. Carlisle actually - copied the entire thing down as she spoke it.”

“And everyone else just believed it?” I asked, incredulous.

“There were some skeptics at first. Of course, when people stopped dying or aging altogether, they began to believe. Plus, manipulation was incredibly prevalent back then - this isn’t the only prophecy that was ever made.”

Atlas walked to a singular podium in the center of the room. Under the glass case laid the prophecy, written on a small piece of paper. It was the size of the notebook Mr. Carlisle had pulled out of his back pocket earlier. He clearly was a creature of habit.

“Are you alright?” Atlas asked me.

I nodded and swallowed.

“Everything in here - it’s all been true so far.”

“So whatever it says is supposed to happen will happen then?” I ask.

“No, Quinn. There are prophecies that have been rejected or broken - very few but it has been heard of. They’re also misinterpreted pretty frequently. Do with the information what you will, but don’t let it drive you crazy,” he said, clearly nervous.

I nodded again, eyeing the glass case. Atlas became silent, observing me.

I took a step forward and looked down at the unassuming piece of paper. Taking a deep breath, I began to read.

For thousands of years we have suffered so

My people on the west, as your powers grow

The east side must pay for the pain they cause

For they will now know a similar loss

Today he who would sit on the throne

Lies cold and still, frozen in stone

For hundreds of years the prince shall wait

While those closest to him see a similar fate

With these words, I strip your ability

The cherished manipulation shall die with me

You, too, will be frozen in time

Immortal, unchanging, a natural crime

Do not be alarmed, nobility of the west

For this is your time to repent and reflect

Your state is temporary, you have not been beguiled

Stay aware, your fate is in the hands of a child

Abandoned, neglected, though she will save you all

The hardship of the west she will well recall

Her mother will leave her, her father turns hollow

Because of the death of their infant daughter

Your savior is she who you fear and abhor

A girl from the west, unknowing and poor

When her lips meet stone, the prince will be freed

Only when she loves him will your time proceed

Reluctant, and beautiful, and true is the girl

Who will surely determine the outcome of this world

“That’s it?” I asked. I’d read the whole thing through 3 times before I felt ready to speak.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“That’s everything,” Atlas said, “Why?”

“It seems… incomplete,” I muttered, squinting at the document. “The stanzas each have 4 lines… the last only has 2.”

Atlas looked over my shoulder at the document.

“The witch died immediately after she finished the declaration. Perhaps she had more to say, but her body gave out.”

“That’s terrible,” I said softly.

“She was dying when they brought her to see my mother. She was the first and only west side resident to exhibit manipulation. They think she couldn’t figure out how to hone it. She buried it deep until it all came flooding out,” he told me.

“I remember you saying she was the only one. I didn’t know she’d died.”

He nodded from beside me.

“Why do you think she got it? Manipulation I mean?” I didn’t mean for the word manipulation to sound like some sort of a disease, but it did.

“Someone from our side must have had an affair with her mom. It’s still not known who it was - no one has come forward yet. But that was the only way it would be plausible,” he told me.

I nodded, recalling all of the people I’d met this evening. Was one of them harboring this great secret? They had fathered the one who would go on to destroy their world.

“I began turning to stone within an hour of her speaking the prophecy. My mother tried to stop it. She begged anyone with manipulation to help her, but as I became stone, their powers disappeared. When the transition was complete, they were powerless. Immortal, but powerless.”

“The prophecy doesn’t say anything about manipulation returning. Only time,” I noted, resting my hand on the glass that covered the small sheet of notebook paper.

“Many are hopeful that once they can age again - if they age again - it will return. But everything in the prophecy has been explicitly stated. I don’t foresee anything hidden in the words.”

I didn’t say anything, scanning the lines over again. Atlas continued.

“It doesn’t give specifics about love. The timing, the manor, anything. That part is pretty vague,” he said.

“But it will happen,” I muttered, not taking my eyes off the scrawled words, “The prophecy will make it happen.”

Atlas shrugged, “What comes first, the chicken or the egg? Was it always going to happen, and the prophecy just had foresight? Or will it happen because of the prophecy? Who’s to say?”

“And if it doesn’t happen? Do you even consider that a possibility?” I asked in frustration.

“Of course. Before I really got to know you, I might have felt differently. But if there’s someone that can defy the force of manipulation out of sheer pig-headedness, it’s you,” he said, a smile playing at the edges of his lips.

I rolled my eyes. The obstination wasn’t in the least bit arbitrary. I’d raised myself since I was 10 years old. I answered to no one. Up until this ridiculousness, my life had been completely my own. Or had it?

Was it manipulation that led me to the prince’s tomb on my birthday? Elaina had pushed for it, but I eventually agreed. Everything that night felt like it came from my own volition. If the knowledge of the prophecy had been readily available to the public, or at least the West Side of Fairview, would I have done anything differently? Probably not. It still would have felt like a local legend - something conjured up to excite teenage girls and encourage rebellion.

“Quinn, can you tell me what you want? You’ve done everything I asked and more tonight. And, well I’m not going to pretend that I don’t like you. I think I’ve made that more than clear. But I stand true to my promise - if you want me to leave you alone, okay. I’m gone.”

“I never said that’s what I wanted,” I argued. He raised his eyebrow as if to say really? “Okay, I haven’t said it recently. I just hate how intense everything has to be. Can’t we just, like, hang out?”

Atlas was nodding before I finished my last sentence.

“Of course, Quinn,” he chuckled.

I looked up at him and his eyes caught mine. The smile that was lingering on his lips slipped. His face became serious again and he took a long step forward, covering the distance between us. I didn’t step backwards.

His eyes still on mine, Atlas raised a hand to delicately trail his curled fingers down my arm. I took a shaky breath.

“And what about this?” he whispered.

I wanted to ask what ‘this’ meant, but I already knew the answer. He was referring to the attraction. There was a chemistry between us that neither could deny. Pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about was a waste of my breath.

“Um,” I said breathlessly as his fingers continued up and down my arm, “Play it by ear?”

That was the best answer I had. Atlas laughed again and nodded.

“It’s a plan,” he agreed.

“Cool,” I whispered, probably sounding like a total dork. His hand, his touch, the intensity was making my mind spin.

“And what do you hear right now?” he asked, “How shall we play?”

My heartbeat quickened at his blatant suggestion.

“Well, I still owe you,” I said.

He shook his head, “No, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I asked in confusion.

His fingers traced down my arm from my shoulder to my hand. He threaded our fingers together.

“Act like you were the only one who got something out of last night,” he said lowly in my ear.

“But-”

“This,” he continued, wrapping his other arm around my waist, “is why you should stay away from boys.”

Atlas grabbed a handful of my silk dress and then slowly started to pull it up my legs, over my ass. His eyes only left mine for a moment when he lifted the dress off over my head and tossed it to the side. Wetness pooled between my thighs as he dipped his head until his lips met mine.

He kissed me once. Twice. I shivered under his firm lips.

“Quinn,” he breathed against my mouth.

One by one, I undid the buttons on his shirt. From his deep kiss, my fingers felt like jelly by the time I reached the last button on his shirt. He helped me undo it and then his shirt was on the floor next to my dress.

His fingers found their way to the clasp of my bra, and then it was unhooked. I was impressed by how quickly he was able to take it off. Usually boys fumbled around until I just gave in and did it for them.

But Atlas wasn’t a boy.

He kissed down my neck and I moaned when his facial hair scratched against my sensitive skin. I felt him smile against my shoulder.

The kisses trailed lower and lower - over my breasts and down my stomach. I wasn’t sure how long I could stand. My knees trembled and I had to grab onto his shoulder for support as he got on his knees in front of me.

His fingers found their way into my panties. I gasped as he slowly started rubbing his fingers in a circular motion against me. His mouth planted kisses all over my lower stomach.

“Atlas,” I breathed.

“Look at you,” he said in response. His eyes were wide and hungry as he took in my body.

He began moving his hand quicker. My legs threatened to buckle at any moment as unfamiliar pleasure coursed through me.

All too soon, I found release from his touch. My knees gave out and I collapsed in his arms, my breathing shaky and uneven.

He held me like that for a moment in total silence.

“Fuck,” I said finally.

“Yeah,” he said in agreement.

“You liked that?” I asked.

“Liked it?”

He grabbed my hand and brought it to his pants, “You feel what you do to me, Quinn?”

I felt a throbbing hardness beneath his pants. I pressed against it and he moaned slightly, eyes closing. I moved my hand up and down against him a few times, and then brought my fingers to his pant button. I began to undo it. He grabbed my hand.

“You don’t have to-” he started.

“Shut the fuck up,” I told him, freeing my hands and unzipping his pants.

I reached into his boxers and wrapped my hand around him. That was all it took before Atlas was ripping his pants completely off.

“Fuck,” I said again when I actually saw him.

He seemed to like that, because he brought my mouth to his and kissed me with a new intensity. We were on our knees in front of each other, but then I put both hands on his shoulder and gently pushed him to the floor. He let me guide him until he was resting on his forearms.

I knelt between his legs, my hand still wrapped around him. He moaned again at the sight. I kept my eyes on his face as I lowered myself down and then finally took him in my mouth.

His head fell back and he moaned my name.

I worked him with my mouth and my hand, nearly coming again at the sound of him moaning my name over and over. He weaved his fingers through my hair gently as I moved up and down.

“Fuck, Quinn,” he muttered. I opened my eyes to meet his, and I could see in his expression he was close to the edge.

Finally, he found release - long and hard. When it was over, he pulled me against him tightly.

We lay together in silence for what felt like hours. I glided my hand up and down his toned stomach. He played with the ends of my hair. We had finally reached peace for the first time all day. I wanted the moment to last forever. I thought no matter what happened after this, at least I would always remember this. Laying with Atlas on his old, dusty basement floor, staring up at the fluorescent light bulb, holding each other.