The Wisteria Accond

Chapter Twenty-four

My mind felt heavy, as though I were swimming through thick, dark water. I couldn't tell where I was or how much time had passed, but there was a distant hum of something—voices, maybe?—faint and far away. I wanted to reach for them, to open my eyes, but my body refused to move.

Then, slowly, like a tide pulling back to reveal the shore, I began to regain my senses.

The first thing I noticed was the warmth of a fire nearby, its gentle crackling filling the otherwise quiet space. A soft, glowing light flickered behind my closed eyelids, and I felt the rough texture of blankets beneath me, cushioning my sore body. My fingers twitched, testing the surface beneath them, and I realized it wasn't cold stone—this was a bed. Or something like it.

I took a deep breath, my chest aching with the effort, and slowly opened my eyes.

The light was dim, coming from a single torch on the far wall of what looked like a small room, possibly a cave. The ceiling above me was jagged and rocky, the walls carved out from the earth itself. It took me a moment to remember where I was—or, more accurately, why I wasn't dead.

Ashen.

My heart leaped at the thought of him, panic rising quickly as fragments of the battle came rushing back. The Nightborne. The attack. Ashen using the last of his power to save me. My throat tightened at the memory, and I struggled to sit up, desperate to find him.

But the movement sent a sharp pain shooting through my side, and I gasped, falling back onto the blankets with a groan.

"Kiera," a voice murmured softly from somewhere near me. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest as I recognized the sound immediately.

Ashen.

I turned my head, and there he was, sitting beside me on the floor, his back against the rough wall of the cave. His face was pale, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion and pain. He was still injured from the battle, bruises marring his skin and dark veins from the Void creeping up his neck. But he was alive.

Alive. And watching me with a look that was equal parts relief and anguish.

"You're awake," he whispered, his voice hoarse, as though he hadn't spoken in days.

"How long...?" I rasped, my throat dry and scratchy.

"Three days," he replied, moving closer to me, his eyes never leaving my face. "You've been unconscious for three days."

Three days? I blinked in shock, trying to process that. I must've been hurt worse than I realized. But I was alive—and so was he. That was all that mattered.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. I could see the pain etched into his features, the way he winced when he moved. My heart clenched at the sight.

Ashen's expression softened, but there was something deeper in his gaze now—something raw and vulnerable that I hadn't seen before. He reached out, hesitating for a moment before his fingers brushed against mine. The contact sent a shiver through me, and I felt the warmth of his hand despite the coldness of the room.

"I should be asking you that," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "You almost died, Kiera."

The weight of his words hung in the air between us, heavy and suffocating. I had seen death so many times, felt its cold grip creeping closer every time we faced danger, but hearing it from Ashen, seeing the way his eyes darkened as he said it—it made it real in a way I hadn't fully grasped before.

"I'm still here," I said softly, offering him a small, shaky smile.

But Ashen didn't smile back. Instead, he looked away, his jaw tightening as if he was trying to hold something back. His hand trembled slightly where it rested on mine, and for the first time, I realized just how much this had cost him—not just physically, but emotionally.

"Ashen..." I began, but before I could finish, he moved.

With a sudden, desperate motion, Ashen pulled me into his arms. His grip was tight, almost too tight, as if he was afraid that if he let go, I would disappear. I felt the warmth of his body against mine, the pounding of his heart, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

He held me like that for what felt like an eternity, his breath shaky against my hair. I could feel the tension in his muscles, the way his chest rose and fell unevenly, as though he was struggling to keep himself together.

And then, before I could say anything, he pulled back just enough to look at me. His face was inches from mine, his eyes searching my face with a raw intensity that sent my heart racing. There was something in his gaze—something desperate, something aching—that made my chest tighten.

"Kiera..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

And then, without warning, his lips crashed against mine.

The kiss was urgent, desperate—like he was trying to pour everything he couldn't say into that one moment. His hands cupped my face, his fingers tangling in my hair as he pulled me closer, as if he was afraid that if he didn't, I would slip away again. The warmth of his mouth against mine sent a shock of electricity through me, and I felt my body respond instinctively, leaning into him.

It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. All the tension, all the unspoken feelings between us, the moments where we had come so close but never crossed the line—it all came rushing to the surface. The kiss was filled with everything we hadn't been able to say to each other, all the fear, the longing, the frustration, and the love.

I kissed him back with equal desperation, my hands gripping the front of his shirt as if I could anchor myself to him, as if I could somehow keep this moment from slipping away. His lips moved against mine, soft but insistent, as if he was trying to memorize the feel of me, the taste of me.

I didn't realize I was crying until I felt the wetness on my cheeks. Ashen pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as he caught his breath. His hands still cradled my face, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that had fallen. His breath was ragged, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to compose himself.

"I thought I lost you," he whispered, his voice breaking.

I reached up and placed my hand over his, my heart aching at the pain in his voice. "You didn't," I whispered back. "I'm still here."

His eyes, still filled with that raw, desperate emotion, searched mine for a long moment. Then, with a shaky breath, he leaned in again, pressing his lips to mine in a softer, more tender kiss. This one wasn't about desperation or fear. It was about us—about everything we had survived, everything we had fought for.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against mine once more, his breath mingling with mine in the quiet space between us.

"I love you," he whispered, the words barely audible but filled with so much weight that I felt my heart stutter in my chest.

I didn't say anything at first, the weight of his confession sinking in. But as I looked into his eyes, I knew that I felt the same way. I had for a while, but I had been too afraid to admit it—to him, or even to myself.

"I love you too," I whispered, my voice trembling.

And in that moment, with the world still spinning around us, with the dangers we still had to face looming on the horizon, nothing else mattered. It was just us—Ashen and me—together, and for the first time, I felt like we might actually have a chance at a future.