“The Bloom doesn’t remove who you are. It amplifies what you feel. If you let them convince you that the feelings are shameful, wrong, dangerous—that’s when they win. That’s when the infection becomes control.” I hold steady on her. “But if you accept what you feel as yours—they lose their hold.”
Circe’s eyes well with tears she doesn’t shed. She nods—once, sharp, the motion of someone clinging to hope they’re afraid to release.
“Get some rest.” My voice softens despite itself. “We’ll need our strength for what comes next.”
She closes her eyes. Within minutes her breathing evens out—exhaustion claiming her.
THIRTEEN
ZRYNOK
The treatment is working. I can sense it—the burning fading to warmth, the desperate edge of the craving dulling to something manageable. The infection still pulses beneath my skin, but it’s quieter now. Contained.
Arwen lowers herself against the wall across from me. Near enough that I could reach her if I stretched. Far enough that we’re not touching.
The candle gutters. Shadows dance across her face, catching the exhaustion she’s trying to hide. She’s been running on fear and determination since I found her in the forest. Eventually, even that fuel runs out.
“What comes next?” I keep my voice low. The girl is sleeping; no reason to wake her. “You said we need strength. For what?”
“Destroying this place.” No hesitation. No softening. “The Abbot. The Keepers. Every stone of this monastery that’s been soaked in suffering.”
“The survivors. The other initiates still trapped here.”
“We get them out first. The ones who can be saved.” Her jaw tightens. “Some of them can’t be. The transformation has gone too far. They’re more Bloom than human now. But the others—the new initiates, the ones who haven’t been broken yet—we rescue them. Then we burn what remains.”
A plan. Not just escape—destruction. Making sure no one else ever suffers what she suffered. What the girl in the corner suffered. What countless others have suffered here for three hundred years.
“That’s why you came back.” The realization clicks into place. “You could have kept running. Disappeared into the world outside. But you came back because you need this place destroyed, not just escaped.”
“I came back because I met an executioner sent to burn it.” Her lips curve—a wry twist, almost amused. “Seemed like opportunity.”
“Is that all I am? Opportunity?”
The question hangs between us. I don’t know why I asked it. Don’t know what answer I’m hoping for. The Bloom pulses in my blood, making me braver than I should be. Making me want things I have no right to expect.
Her gaze remains on mine. Steady. Unblinking.
“You were. At first.” Honest. Brutal. I respect that. “A weapon pointed in the direction I needed. Someone else’s violence aimed at my enemies.”
“And now?”
The quiet draws out. I watch her considering the question, watch her weigh honesty against self-protection, watch the walls she’s built give way incrementally.
“Now you’re something more complicated.” The words come out slowly. Carefully chosen. “Someone who left a protected space to keep a frightened girl safe, even though it made his own suffering worse. Someone who fights against what the Bloom wants him to be instead of surrendering to it.”
She moves. Leans forward slightly. Not touching, but nearer.
“Someone I didn’t expect to let in. And did anyway.”
FOURTEEN
ARWEN
Ishouldn’t have said that.
The admission hangs in the air between us, more vulnerable than anything I’ve allowed in years. Letting people in is dangerous. Letting people in gets you killed. Letting people in is how the cult breaks you—make you need something, then control it.
But it’s true. And I’m tired of hiding from truth.
