Loveless/ a POWERLESS fanfiction story

Chapter 26: Brian

The air is heavy with dampness, and the chill of the night seeps through our clothes, compelling us to edge closer to the flames for warmth. The silence between us stretches, taut and fragile, yet I find it strangely comforting—as if this unspoken quiet holds more truth than any words we might exchange. I notice her hands trembling slightly as she adjusts the jacket draped over her shoulders, but I don't ask whether it's from the cold or something deeper.

She extends her hands toward the fire, palms open, as if trying to absorb its heat. I consider suggesting she rest while I take the first watch, but before I can, she breaks the silence.

"Do you miss home?" she asks, her voice unexpectedly soft, as if she's not speaking to me at all but to the flickering flames.

"Home?" I echo with a faint laugh. "If you mean the place where I grew up, then no, not even a little. But, you know..." I trail off, searching for the right words and finding none. "Sometimes I think home isn't where you're from—it's... elsewhere." The sentence remains unfinished, hanging in the air like smoke, because even I don't know where it was headed.

Blair doesn't press me. She simply nods, as though understanding more than I'm willing to reveal. Tilting her head slightly, the firelight dances in her eyes.

"Maybe I miss the little things," she says quietly. "The scent of jasmine in the garden. Morning tea served in the palace. Strange, isn't it? To remember such details when everything else has turned upside down."

"It's not strange," I reply, surprised by the sincerity in my tone. "You'll be back there soon."

She pulls the jacket tighter around her shoulders, but I press on.

"You should rest. I'll take the first watch," I offer. Her brow furrows, irritation flashing in her expression. Before she can argue, I add with a smirk, "By the way, I slept better last night. Didn't wake up shivering every hour."

Her body stiffens, her shoulders tensing.

"You could always lie closer," I say casually, though my pulse quickens at the suggestion. "For warmth, of course."

Blair turns toward me, her gaze dark and searching, and for a fleeting moment, there's something in her eyes that makes my heart skip. I suspect I know why she was so near me last night—because she trusts me now. My plan is working.

She doesn't reply. Instead, she shifts closer. I lean back slightly, making space without calling attention to the intimacy of it. She settles beside me, close enough that her hair brushes my shoulder, her breaths soft against the night air. When her head almost rests against my chest, the silence is shattered by a scream—sharp, piercing, like a blade slicing through the forest.

A woman's scream, raw with terror, cuts through the night and is swallowed by the trees.

Blair jerks away, her hands clutching the edge of the jacket. Her wide eyes meet mine, panic flaring in their depths.

"It could be anyone," I say evenly, striving to calm her. "It's the final night of the Trials. Someone might decide to get the strap for the last time."

"What if it's her?" Blair whispers hoarsely, her voice trembling. "What if it's Sadie?"

Her words hang in the air, the weight of them pressing down on us both. I turn them over in my mind, trying to gauge the likelihood that it's her friend. Time seems to slow, each heartbeat pounding like a drum in my ears.

She stares at me, and I know there's no convincing her otherwise. Frustration boils beneath my skin—this is reckless, foolish. It could be a trap, bait to lure us from our shelter. Two participants immediately come to mind: the Illusionist and the Veil. Either of them could have orchestrated this.