The Wisteria Accond

Chapter Thirteen

Days bleed together in a swirl of routine and restlessness. The wound on my side pulls less with every movement, and the bruises on my arms have faded to a dull yellow-green, but there's something else—something beneath my skin that won't seem to heal. I tell myself I'm fine, that the quiet itch under my ribs is nothing more than nerves fraying, but I know better.

It's Ashen. Or, rather, it's the unknowns that keep piling up like stones I'm forced to carry. And the more I think about it, the more I realize how desperately I want to see him again, if only to keep unraveling the tangled mess that's grown between us.

I leave the walls under the guise of training beyond the perimeter, slipping past the watchful eyes of the guards and my comrades. The forest feels different today—quieter, more intent. Or maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the one with a nervous energy that makes everything else seem unnaturally still.

When I reach the usual clearing, I don't have to wait long. Ashen emerges from the shadows as if he's been waiting for me, his steps silent and fluid, his eyes a stormy blend that suggests his guard is still firmly in place.

He stops a few feet away, closer than he normally would. I've grown accustomed to his odd disregard for personal space, the way he moves like he's testing boundaries, but there's a tension in his shoulders today, a stiffness to his stance that suggests something's weighing on him.

"Back so soon?" he murmurs, his tone almost light. "And here I thought you'd be taking another two-week vacation."

I cross my arms, trying to hide the flutter in my chest at the sound of his voice. "Miss me?" I counter, letting the word hang in the air between us.

His lips twitch, a shadow of a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Maybe I missed our little talks," he says, his voice low, almost a purr. "You're not the worst company, for a human."

"High praise," I reply, stepping closer. "Though I doubt you came here for small talk."

"No," he admits, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I didn't." He pauses, looking past me to the trees beyond. "Something's changing, Kiera. The void is... shifting."

I shiver at the mention of it, the void—the dark, hungry emptiness that the Nightborne seem to draw their strength from. "What do you mean, shifting?" I ask. "Isn't it just... always there?"

Ashen shakes his head. "It's not a static thing. It moves, it bends, it pulls like a tide. And lately, it's been pulling harder, like something's trying to rip it wide open."

His words send a chill down my spine. I've felt it, too—a sense of unease, like the air itself is tightening around us. "Do you think someone's controlling it?" I ask, the question spilling out before I can stop myself.

His gaze snaps back to me, his eyes narrowing as if he's trying to gauge how much to tell me. "If they are, it's not any Nightborne I know," he says carefully. "But there are forces out there—old forces—that might have that kind of power."

"Like who?" I press, stepping even closer. "Who could do that?"

He seems to consider his words for a long moment, his expression guarded. "There were stories, once, of those who could tap into the void directly, bend it to their will. But they've all been lost to time... or so we thought."

"Until now," I finish for him, the weight of his words sinking in.

Ashen nods, and for a moment, there's a shared understanding between us—a fragile bridge spanning the chasm of mistrust. "If there's someone out there who can control the void, then we're all in more danger than you realize."