Page 29 of House Ignis

I couldn't breathe. Anxiety climbed my throat like a vine of thorns, tightening and squeezing until the air in my chest felt thin and useless.

Aether's heavy weight pressed against my legs, solid and grounding, his mental voice sharp with alarm.

"Ava. Breathe. You're safe. Wake up."

The door slammed open, the wood echoing against the stone.

"Oh my gods, Ava!" Ember rushed in, her auburn hair wild around her shoulders and tangled with sleep.

"Breathe, babe—it's okay. You're okay."

I was sitting bolt upright now, shaking uncontrollably. My chest heaved in shallow, broken pulls of air that never felt deep enough to reach my lungs.

Luna vaulted onto the bed, her warm body pressing against my side as her molten eyes widened with worry. She nudged my arm with a soft, urgent whimper.

I fisted the silk sheets, knuckles white, and squeezed my eyes shut to force my mind to focus.

Inhale. Exhale.

Like the sage had taught me. Slow breath in. Slower breath out.

"My herbs," I rasped, pointing weakly toward the drawer beside the bed.

Ember moved instantly, a blur of motion. She yanked the drawer open, grabbed the small tin, and pressed it into my trembling hands.

I tipped the dried blend onto my tongue—bitter, grounding—and chased it with a long draught of water from the nightstand.

As the blend dissolved, the jagged edge of the panic finally began to dull.

My heartbeat slowed from a frantic, tribal drum to something steadier, less violent. The tremor in my fingers faded, and the walls of the room finally stopped their dizzying spin.

Aether's rhythmic breathing softened against my ribs; he remained pressed against me like a living shield, refusing to shift even an inch.

I sat there for a long moment, doing nothing but existing, letting the world settle back into its proper place.

Finally, I lifted my head.

Ember's wide eyes were locked on mine. Her face was unusually pale in the moonlight, and her fingers still trembled where they rested on the silk duvet.

"I'm okay," I whispered, my voice sounding as though it had been scraped raw by stones. "I'm okay now."

She nodded, though the skepticism in her gaze remained, and set the abandoned glass gently on the nightstand before sliding onto the mattress beside me, sitting close enough that our shoulders brushed.

"Same dream?" she asked softly.

I nodded, my gaze fixed on a stray shadow in the corner. "Yeah. The funeral. I've been having it since the day we buried him."

Her expression didn't shift—she'd seen the aftermath of these nights too many times to be surprised by the haunting.

"But this time…" I swallowed, my throat feeling tight. "It was different, Em. Someone else was there."

She went perfectly still. "Who?"

"He didn't have a face," I said, the memory slithering back into my mind in cold, jagged pieces. "Just shadows. And eyes. Ice blue. Piercing. He was just standing there, watching me."

Ember's brows pulled together as she leaned in closer, her protective instincts flaring. "Watching how, Ava?"

"Like he knew me," I whispered, the chill of it still crawling over my skin. "Like he was waiting for me to fall."