VISION ✔️ || The Keepers of Astraela #1

17.2 || Of Daggers and Duolingo

EVA

IT FELT AS THOUGH they'd been walking for hours.

A drastic change from their strolls through Havenwood, where Emrys filled the void with pleasant conversation, his quiet manner only added to the illusion of slowed-down time. Even the surrounding woods had gone unnaturally silent. The breeze crept to a halt the deeper they went, leaving them with nothing but the rustle of their own footsteps against the grass.

Granted, they weren't going for record time. Emrys struggled to move at a normal pace, still leaning against Eva's shoulder for support and stumbling over the occasional protruding root in their path.

After an eternity of passing tree after tree, his sweaty hand shifted against hers. Though her palms had started scabbing over after her last vision, the perspiration stung when it came into contact with what open wounds remained. It stood as a stark reminder of how powerful—and dangerous—her abilities had become in such a short amount of time.

Emrys shifted beside her once more and let out a soft grunt.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

When he failed to meet her eyes, Eva tilted her head. "For what?"

"I shouldn't have snapped at you. If I'd spent years writing about my dream world and then stepped into it, I'd be a little distracted myself."

Eva's lips parted in surprise, but it took a moment for her tongue to form proper words. "You don't need to apologize."

"I was out of line. I scared you."

"You didn't—"

"Your eyes flash a thousand emotions a second. They give you away every time."

A nervous laugh left her lips. It wasn't that he was wrong. The sudden outburst was out of character for him, especially after five books' worth of a calm demeanor to prove he kept his head in any situation—but, while he had startled her in the moment, the weariness behind his own eyes gave more than enough context to his actions.

His fragility frightened her far more than any harsh tone. Despite his constant reassurance of a "cool down," his weak moments had become far more frequent than she was comfortable with.

Her all-telling eyes must have also given away her concern, because his face returned to a state of faux strength. She cleared her throat and changed the subject, unsure if it was for his benefit or her sanity.

"I feel like I've waited my whole life to see this place," she said, "and of course, it would be nighttime, when I can't actually see it."

"It isn't." Emrys sighed. "It should be high noon right now. I knew the Darkness was bad when I left but... this is worse than I expected."

Eva recalled the web-like constructions overtaking any trace of light. It hadn't been the heavens' nighttime glow peeking through the crevasses after all. It was the lavender afternoon sky, struggling to break through its increasing blight.

Emrys took notice of her downtrodden expression, fixated somewhere farther away than any of the surrounding trees, and nudged her with his elbow. "There's still time. The light may break through before the day ends."

"I can't imagine what it must feel like for you."

Emrys quirked a brow. The expression—though quickly replaced with one of shock as he stumbled over a rock in their path—confused her.

Once sure he was steady on his feet again, she continued. "Seeing Astraela this way can't be easy. This is your home."

"My home?" Emrys practically spat the words. "You mean the home with a bounty hanging over my head for... what? Existing? Befriending the other members of 'Astraela's Most Wanted,' who keep being slaughtered for crimes they didn't commit?" His voice cracked, and he blew out a disheartened breath. "If that's home, it's a sorry excuse for one."