Dark Snow

Chapter 6: The Tower

Darkness. The complete envelopment of an inky void. No sight, no sound, no life—just a crushing, suffocating weight pressing in from all sides. Mia stared up at a thin crack in the rubble above her, the single strand of light piercing through the darkness. She pressed both hands against the stone, straining to push it upward, but it wouldn't budge.

"Lucas..." she called out, her voice shaky and breathless. Silence answered her.

She tried shifting backward, but the rock slid further down, stopping just inches from her face and pressing painfully against her ankle. "Ah... no... no..." Panic flooded her voice. "LUCAS!" she screamed, her voice echoing within the tight stone prison, the sound swallowed by the dark around her. She pressed her forehead against the rough stone, her breaths coming in shaky gasps. "Lucas..." she whispered this time, the name a plea, yet the heartbeat in her ears masked it.

She took a shuddering breath, and for the first time in years, a tear escaped down her cheek. But even under the crushing weight of the rubble, Mia pushed it back, wiping her face which left a streak of dirt. Her gaze bore into the rock above, and this time, she pressed her forearms against it, gritting her teeth as she mustered every ounce of strength. Pain flared in her ankle as the rock dug in, but she kept pushing, harder and harder, her screams breaking through the rubble until, with a deafening bang, the stone shifted and crashed down in front of her, kicking up a cloud of dust.

She gasped, chest heaving as she caught her breath. Her eyes drifted to her leg, red and swollen, but thankfully intact.

The dust settled slowly, blanketing her in a fine, gritty layer. Mia coughed, the sound ragged as she inhaled shallowly, her body wracked with the strain. The light streaming through the crack above had widened, but her exit was still blocked by a heavy slab that hadn't budged.

She studied the rock in front of her, its rough, uneven edges daunting yet strangely grounding. There had to be another way. Her hands drifted to her belt, where she felt for the small knife, she always carried—a flimsy blade, dull from years of hunting, but better than nothing.

Gritting her teeth, she wedged the blade into a narrow gap beside her. Her hands trembled as she twisted it, hoping to widen the crack. Just a little more. She could practically feel the light beyond, could almost taste the open air again. But the knife slipped, nearly slicing her hand, and she bit back a cry, sucking in a sharp breath. It clanked to the ground below her. She forced her breaths to even out, one shuddering inhale at a time, counting each heartbeat like a lifeline.

Mia pressed her face painfully against the rock, peering through the narrow crack. She could see Lucas on the tower floor, eyes closed, his body limp. He wasn't buried by rubble, but a bruise on his head hinted that something had knocked him out cold.

Without a word, Mia stumbled back, catching her breath in painful gasps as she looked around. Her eyes landed on something glowing faintly in the darkness — Lucas's knife. How it had ended up on her side, she couldn't say. The cyan-engraved symbols, unmistakable markers of an ancient region, pulsed through the shadows. She didn't know why, but something deep in her gut urged her to take it. Scrambling forward, she grasped the leather-bound handle, surprised by its warmth, almost as if it were alive.

Throw it to him. A voice echoed in her mind, calm and oddly comforting. Unfazed, she maneuvered back to the crack, took aim, and slid the knife through. It clattered against the floor, screeching until its tip touched Lucas's hand.

Lucas's eyes snapped open, and he gasped for air. "Mia... M..." He stopped, taking in the debris surrounding him. "Fuck, fuck," he muttered, disoriented. "Mia!?"

"Over here..." she called from the crack. His gaze found her, though he could only see her face.

Okay... okay, shit." Lucas exhaled, pushing himself up. He ignored the throbbing pain in his head, or perhaps the adrenaline masked it. He crouched and sheathed the dagger, then moved forward toward the rock trapping Mia. "Help me push this."

Her fingers pressed into the stone, each nail bending under the weight. The grit bit into her skin, and she bit her lip hard enough to taste iron. "Okay," she replied wearily. Lucas mirrored her, both taking a deep breath as if in unison, and together they pushed. The rock shifted surprisingly fast, as though little held it in place, and Lucas ducked aside as it tumbled down with a resounding crash.

When she was finally free, he found himself staring, the relief so sudden it hurt. He wanted to laugh, or maybe yell, but all he managed was a ragged sigh. "You... you scared the hell out of me," he muttered, brushing a hand over his face. "Fuck, Mia... I—I can't believe you..."

But he never finished. In one swift, silent movement, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her head against his chest. Against the cold, stagnant air of the tower, her warmth caught him off guard. Lucas's breath stilled, and, despite the pounding in his head, he tentatively reached up, his hands hovering as if to return the embrace. But before he could, she pulled away, standing motionless.

"I was wrong," she murmured, reluctant but admitting it nonetheless.

He sighed, finding it hard to sympathize when she'd been the cause of all this. "Listen, Mia." Lucas's voice held a trace of hesitation as he chose his words. "You need to start listening to me. Alright?"

She bit her lip. "I'll be more careful."

"No...no, you have to—"

"You're not my master..." She tilted her head, shifting back but wincing as her raw ankle protested. "Alright. Fine. You're my master."

His eyes widened. "No—that's not..." He caught the glint in her eye and sighed. "Quit messing with me like that."

She couldn't help but smile, if only for a moment. "We should get out."

"Good idea," Lucas murmured, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm only doing this because of the ankle..."

"Sure, idiot," she replied softly.

Together, they made their way out of the tower, which was, surprisingly, still intact. Only the floor of the upper room had collapsed. She stumbled slightly, and his arm darted out to steady her, fingers brushing her wrist for just a heartbeat longer than needed. He cleared his throat, looking away before she could notice the flush creeping up his neck.

"Damn..." Lucas muttered. Summer had bolted, most likely startled by the noise—or something else. She'd yanked off the lantern hook on her way out. The hail had lessened, giving way to small flakes of ice drifting down.

Mia peered toward the woods, watching the trees sway in the gusts. "How far?"

"Uh..." Lucas rubbed his eyes, trying to recall. "Half a day, maybe... How's your ankle?"

"I don't know," she admitted.

Lucas groaned. "Here." He eased her down, propping her against the wall. "Mind if I take a look?" She nodded, and he carefully lifted her pant leg. She closed her eyes, wincing as the cloth brushed the irritated skin.

"Well..." He studied her ankle closely. "Nothing looks punctured or broken, but I'd need to move it to be sure..."

"Don't you dare," Mia gritted out.

Lucas couldn't help but smile. Despite everything—the seriousness of their situation—she was...fun?

"All right, all right." He lowered her pant leg gently. "I'll set up the tarp again. We'll rest, and tomorrow, we'll start walking."

"Tomorrow?" she muttered. "And your brother?"

Lucas hesitated, just for a moment. "Sebastian will have to wait..."

Not much else was said. Over the next few minutes, Lucas worked on setting up the makeshift tent. When it was finally ready, the tarp flapped lightly in the wind, offering minimal protection but enough to guard them from the snowfall. What a fucking mess, he thought, but there was an odd comfort in having someone else beside him after so many months alone.

His gaze softened as he watched her, dirt-smudged yet somehow undaunted, her breathing slowing into sleep. He wondered briefly if this was all she'd been hiding — this quiet, unspoken strength that kept her moving through every trial, even as she pushed away anything resembling comfort. In her rest, he glimpsed a calm that he realized he hadn't seen before, and for a moment, he almost forgot the cold biting into his skin. And yet, her independence, her quiet defiance... it was undeniably attractive. And, he admitted with a smirk, more than a little goddamn annoying.