The cliffside steps are slick under my boots, as I take them two at a time, my heel skidding over the empty air, boots teetering on the edge.I throw a glance over my shoulder, hoping no one has followed me.They haven’t.I blend too easily into the dark creases of the rock.
My lungs finally uncoil, releasing the air I’d been hoarding in a long, shaky exhale that seems to empty my entire body.My shoulder meets wood as I barge my way through the familiar door, closing it with a softness I didn’t think I could manage.
The damp rock-face bites into my back as sweat trickles down my temples, the frantic drum of my heart finally slowing to a steady beat.
Flashes of white disappear down below, as I peer out through the shutter, careful not to show myself.
I release a heavy breath as I bend over, collapsing onto my knees, waiting for the knot in my stomach to unwind, releasing its grip.
My coat and satchel land on their usual rusted nail by the door as my shadows crawl along the walls like spilled ink, finding seams to hide in.The candle on the table gutters as they pass by.Has that ever happened before?
A cough breaks my thoughts.
Sylas.
“I’m here—” I say, my voice shaking from the tension still curling within.
The shadows swell, not toward me, but toward him.Like a tide turning.
Not waiting for me.
Time ceases to move.
Black tendrils snake over his legs, making their way up to his chest.His gaze locks on to mine, searching for answers I don’t have.
“No!”I lunge, hands stretching out in front of me, as if I can drag them back with fingers and will.“Don’t…”
They don’t listen.
They wrap around him, blackness slowly engulfing his frame until all I can see are his eyes.Those white-ringed, blue eyes.
His gaze softens, almost in acceptance of what’s to come.He blinks hard, his eyes speaking the words his body can’t.
This can’t be our last goodbye.Not like this.
There’s a single sharp inhale, then nothing.
The shadows loosen, unspooling into the corners as if they never moved at all.
Everything inside me goes quiet.
The candle dies, smoke threads the air.
Sylas lies still, no pain etched onto his features, as if in death he finally finds peace.
I sink to my knees beside him, my shaking hands hover uselessly over his face.
The scar inside me opens wide, a crushing pressure that squeezes the life out of my lungs, keeping the sorrow trapped inside.
Da’s voice echoes somewhere deep:The old gods don’t give.They only take.
6
SEREN
The silence holds until it hurts.
This isn’t real.
