He didn’t turn. “It’s fine. I’ll throw it out. I bought it during some autumn fair. From the sister islands, I think. It’s nothing.”
He gathered it into a tight bundle, hiding the stain from view. Hadria took it from him without a word.
“I’ll give it to Nic’s mother,” she said gently. “She might salvage the threads. Make something new.”
She disappeared into the dining room, folding it neatly before placing it aside.
Collin turned to the hearth. The iron poker lay where it had fallen. He set it upright. Straightened the clock on the mantle. Adjusted a few sketches on the wall. When he dusted the shelf with his sleeve, his hand shook.
He jumped at a loud thud behind him.
Aries was dragging the armchairs back into place—loudly, deliberately—like noise might drown the aftermath.
Collin didn’t say anything. He couldn’t.
That night, sleep didn’t come.
He lay in the dark, eyes wide, staring into the beams above his bed. His thoughts marched across the dusty rafters, clanging louder than any sword.
Next door, Aries and Hadria shifted and whispered, their muffled voices creeping through the walls. The bed creaked. Covers rustled. Then—eventually—Aries’s snoring picked up, low and rhythmic.
But Collin remained still, unmoving.
The silence inside him didn’t sleep. It prowled.
A bird’s ardent song drew Collin from sleep. Sunlight filtered through the thin curtains in radiant golden beams, painting the walls with warmth. He rose, the weight of the previous night somehow distant, dulled beneath an unusual clarity.
He felt... light. Energized. Strangely well.
Throwing open the curtains, he let the light flood in, washing every corner of his room in summer brilliance. He dressed quickly, calling out as he wrestled into a clean shirt.
“Aries! Hadria! You two up yet?”
No answer.
Curious, he stepped into the hallway. Aries’s bedroom door hung open. Empty. Probably out already for breakfast, though a flicker of disappointment passed through Collin. He always liked the way Hadria made scrambled eggs.
In the sitting room, the sun was so intense it burned white against the dusty windows. The panes glowed like fire caught in glass.
Collin grabbed his boots. Maybe he'd find them in town.
He opened the front door.
White light swallowed him. He blinked, staggered one step forward.
And then the world shattered.
A scream tore from his throat—raw, guttural. His chest seized.
The yard was unrecognizable. Gone was the tidy garden, the gentle rise of wild grass. In its place—bodies. Strewn in every direction, blood soaking into the soil, a battlefield carved into the bones of home.
And not strangers.
Aries—slumped over Hadria’s form, a sword skewering them both through the spine.
Clive, motionless, his honey-gold hair matted with blood.
Lekyi, a dozen arrows punched through his chest like stakes in a warning.
