“What are you doing?” Elyria hissed as she dodged his attack. “I am not your enemy, you absolute plonker.”
The line stirred something in Cedric’s memory. He ignored it. Pivoting in the dirt, he charged at her again.
She countered with a sharp jab of her elbow to his side. “Stop this!”
The move didn’t hurt Cedric, but it did cause him to stumble. He caught himself on the trunk of a nearby tree, then spun to face her, teeth bared. “Stop lying to me!”
“You’ve completely lost it,” she said, eyes blazing. “I’m not?—”
“Then tell mewhy!” Cedric’s voice cracked as he threw a punch, his fistmeeting the air when she ducked and rolled to the side. “Why is something inside me telling me that everything is tied toyou? Did you orchestrate it? Did you lead them to us?”
Elyria’s breath hitched. “You still think I’m behind your family’s deaths.” It wasn’t a question. “Is that what this place showed you? Made you relive?” Her eyes flickered with something that looked like pity.
He hated it.
Cedric’s hands trembled.
Her voice softened. “It wasn’t real, Cedric. Not this time, at least. Whatever this place showed you, it’s trying to break you. Don’t let it.”
Cedric touched the mana token hanging around his neck, and Elyria tensed as if bracing for another attack. But as suddenly as it came on, the fight drained out of him.
He ran a finger down the smooth front of the token, tracing the lightning-like streaks in the stone. “I’m not sure I know what’s real anymore.” His voice cracked. “How do I knowyouare real?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice quiet. “SometimesIdon’t even know if I’m real. But even if I had an answer”—she breathed a laugh—“I somehow doubt there’s anything I could say that would convince you. You just have to trust.”
“Trustyou?”
“Trustyourself. And yes, ideally, trust me while you’re at it.” She raised her hands, palms out in supplication. “I know how impossible that seems, believe me. But trust is a blade sharpened on both sides. It can cut, yes. It also protects.”
Cedric’s shoulders slumped, her words slicing at the chaos in his head. It wasn’t enough to clear it. “I don’t know how,” he said.
Elyria shifted her weight as if she meant to go to him, then thought better of it. “We start small then. One simple truth. If you believe nothing else in this world, Sir Thorne, trust what I say next.”
She inhaled deeply, like some grand confession was about to fall from her lips.
Cedric held his breath.
“I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. Here. Anymore.” She punctuated each word with a clap of her hands, her face the epitome of petulance.
A choked laugh broke from Cedric’s throat.
The corner of Elyria’s lip quivered. “So, we don’t have to like it—we don’t even have to like each other.” She paused, daring him to respond to that obvious bait.
He held his tongue.
With a small sigh, she continued. “But I don’t think I’m getting out of here without you. After all, this is your show, so to speak. I wouldn’t even know where to begin finding a way out. What do you say?”
“Fine,” Cedric muttered, pleased to find his hoarse voice hid the amusement he felt. “But if you?—”
Elyria cut him off with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, yeah. ‘If you betray me, I’ll make you regret it.’ Something like that, right?”
He wanted to smile at that, though he couldn’t manage anything more than an exhausted exhale. Still, for the first time in what felt like hours—days, months, years—something light blossomed in Cedric’s chest.
He and Elyria were bruised and battered both, each treading dangerous waters. But something had shifted.
It wasn’t trust—not quite. But a truce, fragile and tentative.
It was a start.
