Tangled Fates

Chapter 25

Sleep abandons me like everything else in this cursed place.

Just like my sisters. Just like the gods. Just like Caleb will, once he truly sees me for what I am.

I lie still in the suffocating darkness, counting the steady rhythm of Caleb's breathing across the hut. Each exhale carries the scent of pine and leather, of home and safety, things I might never smell again after today. Returning here was always meant to be my final act. Grandmother was kind when I entered her chambers.

Kind. If poisoning a soul with words sharper than steel counts as kindness, then yes... she was merciful.

She could have ended me then and there, as she'd all but promised she would if I returned. Yet I remain, preparing to defy her orders. I will confront the Elders and they will hear my words.

My chest aches, grandmother's venomous words still burning through my veins like liquid poison. But it's not the emotional pain that keeps me wakeful. It's the knowledge of what I must do. What I've already decided to do, regardless of what he thinks the morning will bring.

Maybe I'm a fool. Maybe this ends with my bones in the chimes too. But what other choice do I have?

The pre-dawn air seeps through gaps in the weathered wood, carrying with it whispers of mist and decay. I can taste the magic on my tongue, bitter, old, wrong in ways that make my stomach clench. This place remembers blood, it echoes with screams, pain and suffering.

I slip from beneath the furs with the silence my mother taught me, each movement precise and deliberate. The chill nips at my skin as I abandon the warmth, but I don't dare glance back at him. Not yet. If I see his peaceful expression or the way his guard is down when he sleeps, I might lose my courage entirely.

My hands shakes as I pull on my cloak, not from the cold but from the weight of deception. The buckles of my belt whisper like prayer beads as they click into place. My fingers pause over the small knife at my hip, Caleb's knife, the one I'd slipped from him when he wasn't looking. Foolishly thinking that possessing it meant he wouldn't need to protect me anymore. The irony tastes bitter, now that I'm facing something where even his protection wouldn't suffice.

I turn toward him then, allowing myself this one last moment of weakness.

He lies on his side, one arm stretches outward as if reaching for something beyond dreams'. His sandy hair falls across his forehead, softening the harsh lines of tension around his eyes. In sleep, he looks younger, vulnerable, achingly beautiful in a way that makes my chest tighten with unnamed longing.

My hand hovers just inches above his face, trembling with the urge to touch him one last time.

Just one touch. That's all I want. Just one selfish moment.

To trace the strong line of his jaw, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath my fingertips. To memorize the texture of his stubble that would scratches so pleasantly against my palm. A sensation that only I can fantasize about.

But I don't touch him. I can't. Because if I do, if I wake him, then he'll see the goodbye written in my eyes. He'll know and he'll try to stop me.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to the darkness between us, the words barely a wisp of air. "I'm sorry for not warning you. I'm sorry for being what I am. I'm sorry for—" My voice catches, the weight of unspoken truths crushing down on my throat.

I'm sorry for loving you when your eyes can't bare to meet mine. You deserves better than a half-breed.

The thought burns like acid, but I swallow it down. This isn't about love or the lack thereof. This is about survival, not mine, but his, for Rath and Lila, for Elijah and everyone who depends on the information that only the Elders possess. I cannot let my heart's foolish yearnings doom them all.