I frown. Grasp her shoulder and give her a gentle shake. “Hey, Fallon. I’m back. Wake up.”
Nothing.
“Fallon.” Another soft shake. “Please. This isn’t funny …”
She doesn’t answer. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t smile or sing or speak to me about all the wonderful things we’re going to do when we’re free. When we finally get the chance to live.
I edge apart, breath held as I gather the courage to slowly, gently roll her onto her back—
Something in my chest splits at the sight of her lifeless eyes, wide and brimming with fear. Her final moments cast in her terror-stricken gaze and the line of dried vomit that’s dribbled from her cracked gray lips.
I become so still I’m certain one soft blow will shatter me, wrestling the realization that my beautiful friend … my everything … she died alone in the cold, putrid dark. She died afraid—I see it written in the twist of her face. Afraid and without me here to comfort her.
To hold her and sing to her and help her mind go somewhere else. Somewhere warm and bright and full of the colors she loved so much—
Something hits me in the chest. Like a fist of flames just punched through my ribs and pummeled my heart. A dense sound moves up my throat as I feel the organ catch light. Feel it sizzle, spit, and seethe until it’s withered down to a hard lump of char.
The panic in Fallon’s unseeing eyes; the reek of vomit I somehow missed; the knot of her features and the deathly chill of her skin … I dispose of it all so deep within myself I’m certain I’ll never find it again.
Pulling our blanket up over Fallon’s shoulders, I bundle her against my chest and hum my calming tune. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll get us out of here,” I whisper between choruses, sweeping the hair back from her face as I tangle our legs together, giving her every bit of my warmth. “You’re going to see the sky again. I promise.”
I’ll make it happen.Even if it’s the last thing I do.
I fall into consciousness the way I imagine a moon strikes the ground—so hard and fast I shatter within. Splitting apart from the slumber-terror’s violent echo. A terror that felt so real and sharp despite being such anugly
fucking
lie.
Fallon didn’t die in our cell. I broke us free. She got to see the sky again, then died in a snow hut I dug for us both—hugged close to my chest while I slumbered.
Notalone.
I scramble to gather the terror’s jagged pieces, bundle them up, and stuff them back down beneath my icy lake with swift and steady motions.
Gone.
I release a shuddered breath of relief, though it’s short-lived as I open my eyes on too-familiar surroundings, becoming brutally aware of the iron shackle biting down on my ankle. Of the rough-hewn ceiling decorated with inky moons.
“Fuck.”
I’m back.
No wonder I was fever-dreaming about this place.
My lungs power, heaving stagnant air so fast it lightens my throbbing head. Fear blisters me from the inside out as I muddle over what this means. What I’ve forgotten orlostthis time.
What happened after I lost consciousness?
How long has it been? Based on the hungry ache in my gut … a while.
Have the moons fallen yet?
Is Kaan here? Ahvi—
My heart rips at the thought, cold panic flooding in. A lethal wound I bind up, whetting my unruly emotions into a relatively smooth blade. Because I refuse to accept any reality where they’re here. In this place.
I
