The sound was faint. Distant. Like a drum beaten underwater.
Thump-thump.
I frowned. What was that?
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
My heart.
It was slow. It was weak. But it wasstubborn.
It was the only thing in this entire universe that was making a sound.
I focused on it. I poured all my remaining attention into that rhythm.
I am alive,the beat said.I am here.
I wasn't just a battery. I wasn't just a container. I was a person. I had a heartbeat. I had a history.
I focused on my memories. Not the ghosts the void had shown me. The real ones. The messy, imperfect, beautiful ones.
Rhett laughing in the kitchen, flour on his nose, trying to make pancakes and burning them. The smell of smoke and maple syrup.
Sensory Check: Smell. Burnt sugar. Warm skin.
Kai's hands in the dirt, coaxing a seedling to life, his brow furrowed in concentration. The smell of wet earth and crushed mint.
Sensory Check: Touch. Grit under fingernails. Soft leaves.
Lucien reading poetry by the fire, his voice like smoke, his finger tracing the spine of a book. The smell of old paper and clove cigarettes.
Sensory Check: Sound. The crackle of the fire. The baritone hum of his voice.
Ivy's glitter bombs. The sharp, chemical tingle of ozone.
Amelia's reluctant smile. The taste of bitter coffee.
Arthur's tea. Measuring chamomile with scientific precision.
Marrow could take the magic. He could block the connection. He could trap me in a box of nothing.
But he couldn't take thememoryof it.
"You missed a spot," I whispered.
This time, I felt the vibration in my throat. It was tiny. A scratch. But it was there.
"You missed a spot," I said louder.
I wasn't empty. I was full. filled to the brim with them. With love. With loyalty. With the absolute, unshakeable knowledge that I belonged to a pack, and they belonged to me.
And suddenly, with a clarity that cut through the gray like a laser, I realized what this place was.
It wasn't a prison.
I looked at the darkness—really looked at it. It wasn't just empty space. It wasactive. It was pressing against me, probing, trying to find the cracks in my psyche. It was pulling at the edges of my soul, trying to siphon off the despair, the fear, the hopelessness.
It wasn't a prison.
