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My fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt, trembling with the weight of my fear. The tears I fought so hard to hold back begin to spill over, running down my face in hot, unchecked streams.

I cry for the pain I know is coming, for the loss I’m not ready to accept.

His hands slip from me, his touch starting to fade, and with it, the last shred of hope I have left.

“No!” I cry again, louder this time, but the shadows are already pulling him away, slipping through my fingers like grains of sand.

It is too late.

He is gone.

I am left standing there, alone, staring at my hands as if they are to blame for what has just happened. As if, by some miracle, if I held on a little tighter, a little longer, I could have changed the outcome.

But there is no changing it. No undoing it. The weight of his absence presses down on me, suffocating and relentless.

My legs give out, and I collapse to my knees, my sobs wracking my body.

The sound of my grief echoes through the room as I give in to the overwhelming emptiness that consumes me. My chest heaves with every sob, the tears falling freely now, soaking my face and the cold floor beneath me.

Chapter thirty-eight

A Heroic Figure

“Are you sure you’re looking at the map right?” I snap, irritation rising in my chest as the dense forest seems to close in around us.

Zander only raises an eyebrow, his face a mask of indifference.

Ash, however, is quick to respond. “I think we know how to read a map,” he says, his voice dripping with that same confidence that makes me want to punch him in the arm just to knock that smug grin off his face.

“Really?” I shoot back, my gaze flicking over the map once more, then out to the endless sea of trees that stretches before us.

“Because it looks like we’re lost.” I gesture out to the towering trees, their gnarled, twisted forms casting long shadows over the path ahead.

The way they reach for the sky, scarred and broken, reflects how I feel inside, a tangled mess of frustration and unease.

“Unless the supply route is in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

Ash glances me over from head to toe, the corners of his lips curling upward with his usual irreverence. “Someone’s in a mood today,” he says, his voice carrying the teasing note that on any other day I would appreciate. “Trouble in paradise?”

I shoot him a look, a sharp, biting glare that could level a lesser Fea. “I don’t want to talk about it. Especially not with you.” My words are a growl, the sharpness of my tone matching the tension coiling within me.

Ash’s smirk falters slightly, but he only shrugs. “Alright, alright. Jeez, just trying to lighten the mood.” He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “No need to bite my head off.”

I cross my arms, but it doesn’t do anything to settle the restless storm inside me. My body is tense, muscles tight and wound up, and my mind is no better, spinning with thoughts I can’t quiet.

Zander, on the other hand, lets out a sigh, as if the entire exchange bores him. He runs a hand through his hair, clearly unconcerned by the tension hanging in the air. He is always calm, always steady.

While I am too wrapped up in my emotions, Zander is—well, Zander is a force of nature. “Are we done now?” Zander’s voice is low, almost disinterested, like he’s long since checked out of the conversation. He glances at Ash, then at me, his eyes flicking over our expressions before he shrugs, as if we are just a couple of kids bickering over nothing. “We’ve got a mission to focus on.” His tone doesn’t leave room for further discussion.

Zander glances over Ash’s shoulder at the map, his expression blank. “It’s this way.” He gestures for us to follow, his voice calm and steady.

A moment later, he leads us into a clearing that has been packed down by frequent traffic. The ground is hard, the brush trampled and sparse, showing signs of movement, footsteps, hoofprints, the unmistakable signs of something important passing through. It feels too . . . quiet for my liking.

“Okay, great. What’s the plan?” My tone is still sharp, the edge of frustration biting through every word.

Ash, ever the joker, flashes one of his signature grins. “Someone needs to get laid,” he laughs, as if it is the perfect cure for whatever is bothering me. But today, his humor falls flat. I’m not in the mood for jokes, not after what happened with Oberon, not after the way he left, walking away without a word of explanation.

I narrow my eyes at Ash, pointing a finger in his direction. “You'd better hope they show up soon, or I’m going to take my frustration out on you,” I warn, my voice low and lethal.