Aran opened his mouth to say something, but I shook my head.
“No. Let me finish.” I took a breath. It didn’t help. “He was my world, but he wasn’t yours. You chose Selma over someone you barely knew, and I would have done that same thing. I would have chosen my family over yours, any day. And I don’t blame you for leaving.” My throat tightened. “I used to stand at the edge of the woods. Just… stare. Imagine walking until I couldn’t anymore.”
“You would’ve been dead by the first night.”
“You don’t know that.”
“At least you tried to fight.” His voice had softened again. “Even if you lost. You tried.”
“I don’t know if I did a good job.”
“You did.” He looked straight at me. “You were brave.” He hesitated. “I tried to be. But I failed. I couldn’t save them.”
I nodded, barely. “I don’t hate you, Aran. I hate that it happened. I hate what they made you do. But I don’t hateyou.”
He... looked at me like he couldn’t believe the words had come out of my mouth. Like he wasn’t sure he deserved them.
“You...” His voice caught. “You forgive me?”
“I don’t know what that even means anymore.” I said. “But I think… I’m ready to move on. I don’t want to forget. But maybe it’s time we leave the past where it belongs.”
He let out a slow breath, then raised the flask between us like a peace offering.
“You might need some of this, though.”
I gave a tired shake of my head.
“I’m good.”
He reached into his coat and pulled out a small cloth pouch.
“Then take this. Maybe we could all sleep again.”
He set the moon drops beside me, the pouch soft and pale in the firelight. I stared at it.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” he asked. “It’s just one night. One night without nightmares. Don’t you want that?”
I looked past him, to the shed wall flickering orange from the fire.
I did. Gods, I did. But it wasn’t that simple. The dreams weren’t just dreams. They were memories.
“I don’t know,” I muttered.
“You won’t know until you try.”
I hated how much I wanted to believe him. Hated how much I needed him to be right.
“Fine.” I uncorked the vial and took a sip. It was cold. Tasteless.
He gave me a small, broken smile.
“Good,” he said. “Now try to sleep.”
The cot was waiting.
I lay down, pulled the blanket tight around me, and shut my eyes.
Waited for the heat. For the screams. For the fire.
