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My body aches in places I didn’t even know could hurt, but it isn’t just exhaustion. It is the weight of his words, the gravity of his gaze. “I wasn’t ready to let you go.” The sincerity in his voice haunts me more than the lies I expected.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to force my mind to block out the memories. But they come anyway.

Oberon standing too close, his fingers cradling my face with a tenderness that doesn’t belong to a captor. His eyes, so dark and endless, filled with shadows that hint at pain I didn’t know he carried. The distance between us was too small, the air too thick, charged with something I refuse to name. The way he looked at me. Worse than that, the part of me that wanted him to.

Frustration twists in my chest. I shouldn’t have let him get that close. Shouldn’t have let his words slip beneath my defenses. And yet, no matter how many times I tell myself he is the villain in this story, the echo of sincerity in his voice makes me hesitate.

The images he showed me last night drift back, dragging a fresh wave of nausea with them—my ruined world—the truth I wasn’t ready for.

It clings to my thoughts.

Each step I take toward the door feels heavier than the last. The burden of what I have learned presses down on me, tightening the air in my lungs until it feels impossible to breathe. My legs move, but I’m not sure how.

What did he mean when he said he needed me? That question gnaws at me the most.

When I finally reach the door, my hand trembles slightly on the handle.

Ash stands on the other side, his usual chipper self. His bright gaze catches the sunlight as it dances across his features, making him seem almost out of place against the heaviness pressing on my chest. His energy radiates like a spark, lively and untouchable, so at odds with the storm still raging inside me.

He flashes a grin with his easy confidence. “You look like shit,” he says without missing a beat.

The words hit me like a jolt, not cruel. Not concerned either, just Ash, playful and unfiltered, dragging reality back into the room whether I am ready for it or not. I blink at him, too stunned for a moment to respond.

After everything from last night . . . this is how we’re doing things?

“Wow,” I mutter, rubbing my temple. “Charming as ever.”

He leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, that same irreverent grin tugging at his mouth. “Hey, I’m just calling it as I see it. Rough night?” His gaze sharpens slightly, like he is fishing for something beneath the joke.

He doesn’t know.

I force a laugh, but the sound comes out hollow. “Something like that.”

His eyes flicker to the necklace still resting against my collarbone. For a moment, his grin falters, barely, but I catch it. “Guess Oberon’s hospitality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, huh?” Ash quips, his tone light again, but there is something else beneath it, like he is testing the waters, waiting for me to slip.

I stiffen. The memory of Oberon’s hand on my face surges back, unbidden. The way his voice dropped when he apologized. I shove the memory down. Hard. “What do you want, Ash?” I ask, sharper than I intend.

He holds up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes stay trained on me. “Straight to the point today, huh? No warm greetings?”

“No, Ash, you look devastatingly handsome this morning?”

He tsks, shaking his head dramatically. “You wound me.”

I cross my arms, leveling him with a look. “I don’t feel like being part of whatever lesson you’re here to teach today.”

Ash lets out a low whistle. “Oof. Feisty this morning. Must’ve been some dream.” His eyes gleam with mischief as he tilts his head. “Or was it a nightmare?”

My jaw tightens. “I’m serious.”

Ash stays lounged against the doorframe with his arms crossed, not yet stepping fully into the cabin, his signature smirk firmly in place. “So,” he drawls, eyes glinting with something elusive. “Oberon finally showed you the highlight reel of the world’s downfall. Not exactly the scenic tour you were hoping for, huh?”

“Spare me the jokes, Ash.” The rage inside me surges: the pain, anger, confusion, all fighting for control. I spin on him. “I don’t get it! How could you be part of this? You and Oberon both helped start this war, and now you’re what? Playing babysitter while the world burns?” I step back, the ache in my chest tightening. “Why am I even here?” I snap, dropping into a chair and crossing my arms.

Ash’s grin falters for the briefest second. His gaze drops, fingers drumming lightly against the doorframe. For once, he seems unsure. “Careful,” he murmurs, a crooked smile creeping back onto his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like Oberon. All sharp edges and accusations.”

“Don’t you dare compare me to him.”

Ash flinches, hands raised in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. No need to bite.” But his playful tone rings hollow.