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Lawrence appeared at twilight, drifting into a clearing like a shallow breeze. The only person I knew who could show up anywhere, no matter how remote, like he’d always been there. White hair curling around his unnaturally symmetrical face, black coat hanging low as he approached, silent and fluid like always.
“I’m not at your beck and call, you know,” he said, voice light but edged.
“And yet here you are.” I challenged, strolling up to meet him, however recklessly. “Right where I want you.”
He grinned at that, fangs flashing as if he missed me, but his perfectly practiced smile faded just as quickly. “Do not waste my time, Remy.”
I swallowed hard, but met his gaze anyway. “I need your help.”
He arched a brow, unimpressed. “That much is obvious.” Then turned toward the camp, already moving. “But obvious need is not compelling. What are you offering in return?”
I followed, limping to keep up. Every step a jolt up my spine. “Again with the bargaining?”
“You think I do this to be difficult.” His tone stayed cool, smooth. Not unkind, just clinical. “...But you and I both know better than to believe in anything that comes without cost.”
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t slow. Just moved, casual but swift. Forcing me to push harder, not to fall behind with each step. He asked for payment, but I had nothing. What could he even want that he didn’t already have? Still, I had to try. “You once called me a friend,” I beckoned, breath hitching. “Can’t you make an exception? Just this once?”
He glanced sideways, lips twitching, not quite a smile but something more dangerous. A grin of amusement. The perimeter guards went rigid as he approached. I waved them off, but the unease on their faces didn’t fade. They bowed slightly as we passed. “Your Grace,” they muttered, and my attempt not to recoil at the words failed miserably.
Lawrence noticed, of course. He noticed everything. But even then, he didn’t slow down. Didn’t acknowledge the soldiers. Just kept on, graceful, with the practiced ease of death itself. “Despite what you may think,” he said idly, “it is not easy to traverse this distance. And I am a busy individual. If you have nothing to offer… then I’m afraid you are already in my debt.”
I stumbled forward, breath uneven, then rushed to catch up. Against every instinct, I reached for his shoulder, pulling him to face me fully. “Consider it a favor…” I said, pulse pounding through my ribs, but I held firm. “Please.”
His gaze followed up my arm to meet my eyes. “You’ve grown bold,” he said at last. Studying me like he couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or insulted. “Very well. A favor then, one I will collect when I please.” His smile stretched then, pleasant, but chilling like a stalking hunter. “What is it you require so earnestly?”
A deal with the devil. Accepted without terms, great idea, Remy. I thought before replying. “I need you to assess someone’s condition…” I said, finally lowering my arm, but still blocking his way. “I need to know how to save them.”
“The shifter friend of yours?” he asked, expression knowing but not unkind.
“His name is Dent,” I corrected, “And he’s family.”
“Ah.” He turned smoothly and resumed walking, leading me through the camp lazily, as if we were on a garden stroll, slower now. Matching my pace like he’d finally realized I was pushing through pain. “Sentiment can be a rare thing these days.” He let silence stretch between us for a moment, then reached into his coat, always something in there. “I got you something.”
I slowed, eying him in question as he offered a paper-wrapped bundle like it was nothing. “I had hoped it might lift your mood, if only momentarily.”
The paper crumpled as I unwrapped it, staring with more caution than was probably necessary.
An apple pastry.
Still warm and flaky. I stared at it, stunned. “You brought this… for me? …Why?”
“It’s only bread, dear,” he said dryly. “Don’t lose your head.”
I couldn’t help the sound that escaped me as I bit in, something close to a groan. “Oh my gods, that is so good.”
A slight chuckle left his lips. “You eat like someone who's been fed rations and regret most of their life,” he said with a smile that was far too pleased.
“Should have seen me a year ago,” I muttered, mouth full. “How’d you know apple was my favorite anyway?”
“The place didn’t have many options,” he answered, tone too smooth to believe.
“I’m calling bullshit.” I squinted at him. “But I’ll give you a pass cuz it's so delicious.”
“Then let’s say it was a lucky guess.”
The thought of Dent donned on me as I swallowed the last bite. “Oops. Umm, would you… Could you bring one for Dent? He’s kinda obsessed with them.”
Lawrence didn’t reply right away. Just stared at me for a moment, unreadable.
“Oh. I mean. Do you want something for it?” I asked, instantly regretting the question.
His smile returned. Gentle but wrong in the same way, it was perfect. “No. I can bring him one… On my next visit.”
I exhaled slowly. Shoulders lowering. “Thank you… It means a lot.”
He kept the same practiced smile as we continued our sprawl through the various alleyways created by conjoined tents and burnt fires, but a thought lingered. Was he literally sweetening our deal, or did he actually get me something with no strings attached? Something he knew I’d love. Part of me knew better, but the other part, the selfish, exhausted part, wanted to believe that was just how he was. He brought it with him, after all. Even agreed to bring one for Dent. Perhaps that was simple kindness.
“Tell me…” He said, arms clutched behind his back. “How was your little dinner with Queen Aurellene? Worth all the worry?”
I hated how comforting his presence could become. Despite the dread it carried, the impossible aura he wore like silk, having him here felt… steady. Like a blade at my side, so familiar you forget it's a weapon. Something was reassuring in how he never gave without asking. Except for a delicious snack, I guess. Everything with Lawrence had a price, but even that was starting to feel fragmented, like the dynamic was designed to dissuade my discomfort. A trap I was stepping into with both feet, pretending not to notice the teeth. But it didn’t matter, just like every consequence looming in the distance, I’d let the cost consume me when it was ready to.
“Seriously,” I sighed, stepping close enough for our shoulders to brush in every short stride of our side stroll. “...It went to shit.”
“Lying low didn’t take?” He chuckled a breath. “Not surprising.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” My head shook as we turned another corner.
“Oh, I simply must know.” His expression was stained with a gossipy grin. “Spare no detail.”
“Well… It’s hardly a secret.” I paused for a beat, shaken a bit by a side of Lawrence I’d never seen before. “I yelled at the queen for a moment, said her wine was bullshit, same with the other ridiculous pleasantries she wasted our time with.”
“Ooooh, I bet she loved that,” Lawrence said, voice rising. “I so wish I could have been there.”
I breathed a shallow chuckle. “I almost threw a steak knife at her, and Val shoved at least one of her guards.”
“I knew there was something I liked about him.” He said, “It’s good to remind the bureaucratic muscle that they have an occupation to attend besides standing around in expensive armor.”
“The only good thing that came from that night.” I motioned with my hands, deciding to indulge him. “But that’s not all.”
“Oh?”
“Then I told off…” My chest tightened at the thought of Kael, but I shoved the grief down deep. ”…A noble… and took command of this whole expedition thing… however reluctantly.”
His sharp expression tinged with a telling excitement that prompted me to continue.
“So now everyone thinks I’m royalty, and I’m going to prison after this.”
He breathed a laugh at that, a real one, I thought. Still, it was too smooth, like everything else about him. “Astonishing how you so eloquently dig a hole to bury yourself in.”
“Yeah...” The laugh stuck in my throat. “I’m fucked. I know.”
We made a full circle around the camp. Catching stares from everyone we passed.
I was thankful Eshlyn and Val only gave me a knowing nod as we neared, and there was no sign of Dent anywhere. He motioned to the flap when we approached my tent for the second time. “So what’s your plan then?”
“For what?” I asked, taking a seat inside while my boots hung over the edge.
He didn’t follow, just stood outside. “Avoiding prison, of course.”
“I plan to concede,” I said plainly, as if it wasn’t one of my greatest fears, then asked. “You don’t want to sit?”
“Is this where we’ll be conducting the assessment?”
“Yeah, but Dent might take some convincing.” I sighed. “So it's probably best if you hide out here while I go talk to him.”
“Very well.” He paused. “May I come in?”
My head tilted. “You seriously have to ask?”
“Verbal consent,” he said dryly, “is terribly underrated.” The first joke I’d ever heard from him, or something close to one.
I didn’t laugh, just shook my head and replied. “Please, Lawrence, grace me with your presence in my tent.”
“How could I refuse such poetry?” He took his boots off and sat, cross-legged by my bedroll, eyeing the place. “Cozy…” His perfect posture finally faltered for a flash when he caught sight of Nyla strolling in past me, some type of small field-mouse in her mouth. “...Is that a shadowmaw cub?” He asked, smile wavering into something less readable.
“Mhmm, her name is Nyla.” I scratched behind her ears, but she wouldn’t take her eyes off Lawrence. Like a predator recognizing one of their own. Like she knew better than to turn her back now that they’d seen each other. “Long story, but she’s kinda part of the family now.”
“How… interesting.” He extended a hand with deliberate stillness. “And she leaves dead mice in your tent?”
I almost laughed. “I wish I could say no, but I’ve had to throw one or two out already.”
Nyla crept forward, slow as ink bleeding across paper. Low to the ground, legs coiled, eyes fixed on him. Lawrence didn’t move. His palm hung steady, unreadable, and composed as the rest of him. I realized I’d been holding my breath when she finally sniffed his fingers, dropped the limp mouse at his feet, and sat neatly on her haunches.
“Does that mean she likes me?” he asked finally.
“As if you’d be so lucky.” I tried to tease, though my tone faltered. “I guess she didn’t bite because her mouth was full.”
Lawrence’s practiced smile barely creased his lips. “Suppose that’s not surprising.”
“Why’s that?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“I’ve noticed most intelligent beings have a way of… keeping their distance.”
“That why your smile’s always fake?” I jabbed, hoping to get something real out of him.
His eyes met mine. Steady and even, but he didn’t answer. A silence stretched thin, until the mouse twitched, flipped onto its feet, and tried to scurry off. Nyla pinned it flat again with her paw, unblinking, her posture eerily similar to his.
“Damn, Nyla!” I blurted. “That rat’s still alive!”
Lawrence jerked his hand back, a sharp, almost human gesture. Then he laughed. Not polite or practiced, just a low chuckle that felt strangely real, even if the smile that returned was not. “Interesting indeed,” he murmured, then shifted without missing a beat. “Now… this concession you mentioned.”
“What about it?” I asked, snatching the mouse from under Nyla’s paw and flinging it out of the tent in one swift motion. She bolted after it in a streak of living shadow.
Lawrence’s gaze followed her for a fraction longer than I liked before returning to me. “I must say, it seems unfitting. And quite frankly… wasteful.”
I looked away then, voice low. “It's the only choice I have left… Short of selling my soul to the highest bidder. It’s all just catching up to me… Had to eventually, I guess. Running will get my friends hurt, and I’ve done enough of that for a lifetime.”
“A bit noble.” His red eyes studied me for a beat. “...I hope you change your mind.”
                                        ...
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It wasn’t long before I broke out of my tent, leaving Lawrence as if I was hiding him, even after we strutted around the whole camp together. Nyla joined my side like we were going out for a hunt, mouth empty this time. I quickly checked Dent’s tent, but it was empty. It dawned on me that I hadn’t seen him in hours, so I made my way towards where Val and Eshlyn had been waiting.
Val prodded a campfire as I approached, non-subtly donned in his full set of armor, then stood to give me a light hug. “You’re sure about this?”
“Too late for that.” I teased, unfolding from him enough to turn to Eshlyn, still pale as a ghost. “Y'all ready?”
“As we’ll ever be.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her tired eyes. “Where’s Dent?”
“I was hoping you knew.”
“I haven’t seen him.” She shook her head. “Not for a while.”
“I might have an idea.” I thought about the cutesy sparring session from this morning. “I’ll find him. Y'all should wait with Lawrence till I get back.”
“Eww.” Val groaned. “No thanks.”
“Awe C’mon, I’m sure he won’t bite.” I teased, pressing into his shoulder lightly, “And besides, you have you’re swords.”
He didn’t laugh, but Eshlyn pulled him into a slow walk. “Relax. Let’s just get this done.” Then motioned back to me, “Do hurry.”
The image of the three of them sitting together made me chuckle a bit before I strolled up to Lyssa’s tent not too far off, knocking quickly before discovering she was gone too.
Could they be on a date somewhere? I pondered quietly, but they weren’t at Milo’s either. Finally, my gaze shifted to Nyla, standing attentive at my feet. “How about you? You know where they are?”
She just stared up at me, pupils black as night.
“C’mon, you woke me up when Lyssa was being sneaky and led me to their team gaggle in the woods.” I bent down to scratch her head. “Where’s Dent?”
She brushed against my shin in a blur of shadow, but nothing else. “What? You want jerky or something?” I said almost playfully before pausing. “Take me to him and I’ll give you both my jerky sticks tomorrow… Deal?”
She sat in a way that made me think I was crazy for talking to a cat, even a mystical one like Nyla. “You don’t understand a word I’m saying, do ya?
She blinked, slow and judgmental, like she absolutely did.
My eyes squinted in suspicion as I scratched under her chin till she shook her head, biting my hand lightly. But she stood up then, and did a slow dart towards the treeline, nearly invisible in the dark, but I kept up, however painfully.
When we escaped the clump of camp and bent into the underbrush, I realized we were taking the same path from that day, when I found Lyssa smacking a tree with a stick as if challenging it to a swordfight. “Of course,” I muttered. “And to think I had to give you two jerky sticks for that.” If I didn’t know better, I’d say Nyla looked satisfied with herself as we strolled on through the trees.
Eventually, I caught sight of them through the forest's canopy. Trading punches and grapples in the clearing ahead. Dent would throw a jab or cross, and Lyssa would toss him over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. They’d laugh and reset. Dent would feint a punch and slide in to grab both her legs, lifting her up and off the ground before setting her down gently on the grass below. Every connection they’d linger longer than necessary. It was almost comical. Yet, sweet and heartbreaking at the same time. They laughed like time was running out. Like this was one of their last days together, but it wouldn’t be. Not if I had any say in it.
Gods, they were cute together. I sighed, already resenting that I’d have to cut their little romance short with something bleak but necessary. It made me feel soft in all the worst ways, like I was watching a love story I’d never get to finish… But I’d drag Dent back to my tent if I had to. Kicking and screaming. Whatever it took.
I leaned against a tree just far off to be inconspicuous, but close enough that they'd probably see me if they looked. It wasn’t long before Dent’s head snapped toward me, quick and unnatural, like a puppet yanked by strings.
Damn, that gives me the chills every time.
He didn’t linger, though, just turned back towards Lyssa a moment later, catching an incoming kick before lightly tripping her other leg as they fell to the floor in a tangle of smiles and limbs.
So cute, I could throw up. I joked, but only in my head.
Dent was still on the ground when he called out to me, “Come on out, Remy. Your stalker energy is creeping us out.”
I shook my head, breaking through to the clearing, “Sorry. Didn’t want to ruin the moment.”
“Hey, Remy.” Lyssa smiled cheerfully from her back. “Good to see you up and moving around.”
“Dent teaching you everything he knows?” I teased.
“You could say that.” She looked up at him with a kind of softness in her eyes that made my chest ache.
Dent didn’t linger, though, just stood. “Remy… I know why you’re here and I’m not interested.”
“Come on. Can’t you not fight me on this one thing, please?” I protested, taking a step in.
“I still can't believe you called him out here.” He paced, then sat on an overturned log close behind me. “I don’t want anything to do with him, and you shouldn’t either.”
“Seriously, Dent…” I tried to keep my voice level despite the flare in my nostrils. “Have you even noticed Eshlyn’s eyes? She looks like she hasn’t slept in days.”
“I can't help that.” His gaze shifted down as if feeling guilty. “Just like I can’t help that you called that serial killer over here to what? Peer into my soul?”
Lyssa joined him on the log, lightly following along. “Who is this guy you hate so much? And how do you know he’s a serial killer?”
“It’s a long story.” I sighed, wishing I could deny the accusation with a shred of believability.
“This is my choice, Remy.” Dent looked at me, eyes pleading.
My head lowered. “Please don’t look at me like that.”
“I don’t want to.” He leaned in slightly. “Can't you respect that?”
A silence lingered as Lyssa stared at both of us. I wanted to scream, but I knew that’d only make him protest harder, so I kept my voice low. “I already paid for it.”
“You did what?” He shot up in a jolt that was startlingly inhuman.
It gave me pause, but I didn’t blink. “I already paid.”
“What did you offer him, Remy?” His voice rose with caution.
“Nothing crazy.” I shot back before lowering my voice again. “Just a favor.”
“A favor?” He asked, gesturing with his arms. “With what stipulations?”
“What do you mean stipulations?”
Lyssa's eyes darted back and forth between us, wide with unanswered questions, but Nyla hopped up on her lap, drawing her attention ever so slightly.
“You didn’t set any conditions?” His face went paler than it already was.
“Well, no. I guess not.”
“Fucking shit, Remy.” He paced, movements growing more alien as if he’d been forcing them to behave before now. “I thought you were smarter than that.”
“Don't you get I’m trying to save your fucking life!” I finally yelled, voice cracking. A silence lingered before I added, “Please.”
His head fell into his hands as he sat down with a long sigh. Lyssa paused for a short moment before eventually placing a calming hand on his back and catching his gaze, if only a little.
He lingered there, waiting or searching for something, I wasn’t sure, then turned back to the ground. “Fine.” He breathed, and my shoulders relaxed.
“Thank you,” I whispered, before tilting my head back towards camp. “I’m sure it’ll be quick,” I said with a small smile, “then you can get back to your… heartfelt sparring session.”
“Can I come?” Lyssa interjected.
“No,” Dent responded quickly. “Steer clear, it's best if this guy doesn’t know you exist.”
“Don’t be dramatic.” I waved dismissively. “But… yeah, that’s probably for the best.”
She nodded her head slightly and stood to give Dent a gentle hug. “I’ll be right here.”
I waited as Dent hugged her back, long enough to stop fighting me on this. He squeezed her hand lightly before letting go and followed me back to camp. Lyssa waved us off, taking another seat on the log, this time next to Nyla.
                                        ...
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Val and Eshlyn were already waiting when I came back with Dent in tow. They stood stiffly outside the tent flap, arms crossed, like sentries bracing for a storm. Neither looked thrilled to see Lawrence’s shadow stretching beneath the canvas.
Dent stalled the second he realized what they were here for, jaw tight. “Seriously? All of you?”
Val approached first, smile half cocked. “Aw, c’mon, big guy, don’t be shy.”
Eshlyn’s tongue clicked. “Ignore him.” She cut in, squeezing Dent’s hand lightly. “We know this is difficult, but we’re here to support you… all of us.”
That softened him, if only a little. His shoulders slumped with the kind of embarrassment that looked too much like resignation. “Fine,” he muttered. “But crack another joke and I’m outta here,” he pointed towards Val, who put his arms up with a grin.
Together, we ducked inside like an uneasy procession.
I slipped through the tent flap after Val and Eshlyn, holding it open just long enough for Dent to duck under my arm. He paused again when he saw Lawrence sitting cross-legged in the corner, composed as ever.
Lawrence stood, slow and fluid, ignoring Val and Eshlyn but offering his hand to Dent like a proper gentleman. It was a perfect gesture. Practiced. Measured. Down to the angle of his wrist and the polite curve of his mouth, almost enough to believe in its sincerity, but Dent didn’t bite.
He walked past him without a word, posture tense but controlled, dropping into a sitting position near the center of the tent. For a moment, I wondered if all the disdain was actually warranted. But then I remembered the alleyway full of corpses. The way Lawrence looked at me when we first met, like he was deciding whether or not to carve me up.
And I knew better. His beauty wasn’t kindness, it was camouflage. A predatory elegance worn like a knife in a velvet sheath. His smiles were all muscle memory. Voice, just warm enough to lure you in. We were constantly reading each other, catching every false note and pretending not to notice.
Still, he was here. Still offering help, for a price, of course, but not one I couldn’t pay.
“Thanks for waiting,” I said, trying to ease the tension as Dent sat, and the rest of them packed the corners of the increasingly cramped tent.
Lawrence didn’t even glance at his ignored hand. “Of course,” he replied, unbothered as ever. Then gestured to Val and Eshlyn. “Apologies, but it appears there has been a misunderstanding.” He took a step towards Dent. “Privacy is required for this assessment,” he said, calm and clear, as if it were a fact rather than a request.
“Nice try.” Val crossed his arms. “But we’re not leaving.”
“Agreed.” Eshlyn’s eyes narrowed. “That’s not happening.”
Lawrence only folded his hands behind his back. “Apologies, again, but I’m afraid this is a requirement, not a request.”
Ahh shit.
Val hopped in before I could cut him off, “We are the ones who called you here motherfucker, so stop trying to run us off with your bullshit requirements.”
“Guys…” Dent groaned, rubbing his temple.
“Your loyalty is noted, boy. But lower your tone… or lose your tongue.” Lawrence’s red eyes flashed, a razor gleam beneath his elegance. A silence lingered, sharp as a knife. Then, without missing a beat, he continued: “Perhaps I was unclear. If you want my assistance, you will do as I say.”
“Then perhaps…” Eshlyn shot me a glance. “We do not want your assistance after all.”
“I can’t believe I’m the one saying this.” I placed myself between the three of them before things could escalate further. “But can you all just calm down and think for a second?”
“Remy… You seriously want to leave him alone with this psycho?” Val protested.
“He’s helping us.” I met his gaze. “What do you think he is going to do?”
Val’s jaw clenched, bouncing off Lawrence’s annoyingly collected composure.
“Listen… This is my decision.” Dent finally spoke, voice rising through the looming chaos. “I agreed to do this. He wants privacy, and so do I. Besides, the leadership meeting starts soon, and the three of you should be there.”
Another silence lingered before Lawrence spoke again. “I require Remy as well.”
“What the fuck!?” Val exploded, thankfully not at Lawrence this time.
“Why?” I asked, pulse rising. “What do you need me for?”
“You are the only one perceptive enough to lay truth to what is found.” He said plainly. “You must act as both a witness and my assistant.”
I didn’t believe him. Not entirely. The words sounded right, flattered me just enough, gave me a role, a purpose. It made sense, even, but they were too neat. Too Lawrence.
Still... I nodded.
“Guys, relax.” Dent stood, taking the few steps to huddle up with us. “If he steps out of line… I’ll flatten him.” His glance pivoted between us, clearly trying to soften the edge. “Just go. I got this.”
“I don’t like it… ” Eshlyn sighed. “But fine, we’ll handle what's needed for camp while you get this figured out.”
“UGH.” Val looked less than happy, but agreed. “I’m trusting you.”
There was a beat of hesitation, then finally, Val sighed, and Eshlyn relented, their hands brushing my shoulder as they passed. “Shout if you need anything.”
“I will,” I promised, even though we all knew I wouldn’t.
They stepped out, and the tent felt even heavier once they were gone.
Lawrence settled to the floor. “Now that everything is in order.” He said, motioning us to join him before snapping his fingers. As he did, a translucent barrier stilled the air, locking in around the tent in what I could only assume was to prevent eavesdropping. “There is something we must agree on before we continue.”
Dent’s brows furrowed as he made his way over. “I already backed you up on the privacy thing. What more do you want?”
“Not much,” he replied, gesturing for me to sit on the floor beside him, forming a kind of semi-circle between the three of us. “But my organization values agency above all else.” Then he turned to Dent. “Nothing happens here without your permission.”
“You’re serious?” Dent tilted his head. “And if I refuse, you’ll go away and leave Remy the fuck alone?”
Lawrence didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. We both knew the answer.
“C’mon, Dent… stop being difficult.” I jumped in, almost afraid he’d walk. “For me.”
Dent sighed like someone giving in just to shut the argument down. “Fine. Let’s get this over with. What do you need me to do?”
“Simple.” Lawrence extended his hand, palm up. “You must take my hand and follow my instruction.”
Dent eyed him with a tight jaw, gaze flicking from Lawrence’s to me and back again before, reluctantly, clasping his hand in a brief show of surrender.
My shoulders finally relaxed as Lawrence nodded, looking between us. “Now the two of you.”
I stretched my hand toward Dent, and he took it more willingly.
“Good,” Lawrence said, his eyes finding mine as he extended his other hand to complete the circle. I took it, noting how Dent’s grip was broader and calloused, but both hands felt cold in mine.
“Perfect…” Lawrence breathed, settling into stillness. “Please, take a moment to get comfortable.” The tent fell quiet as the tension bled off like a slow-dripping fosset. “Now, close your eyes… and breathe.”
We began following along.
“Dent,” he continued, voice low and steady. “You need only remain present. Let your mind fill and flow. If a thought comes, let it pass unencumbered.”
For a moment, there was only breath, darkness, and long silence. Then his voice echoed, not aloud, but inside my head. “Peer inward, like I showed you. Find Dent’s tether to life.”
I did, and the invisible world of braided twine opened itself to me. All aether and will, colliding to form the web of reality. Dent’s threads were made evident in the echoes of my mind, until finally, I found it, the thread of life. Still intact. Healthy. Whole.
“I see it,” I whispered, not aloud.
“Good,” the voice replied. “Now… look closer.”
My vision deepened, like my consciousness was zooming in until the thread glowed green, vibrating with a silent hum. And then I saw them.
Black tendrils, spiraling around it. Not cutting or fraying. Just… weaving through. Replacing essence, like ivy curling up a pillar, growing denser with every breath.
My chest tightened. “It’s not being damaged.”
“Correct,” Lawrence’s voice confirmed. “It remains whole.”
“Can we fix it?”
“In a way.” His tone sharpened. “Like all life, it can be strengthened or weakened, even pushed to the brink and rebuilt. But none of that will stop what’s happening here.”
I jolted back, breath catching as I tore from the weave. The sensation lingered like an afterimage behind my eyes, but I exhaled quickly, forcing my vision to return in sharp beats. “What do you mean, in a way?”
All our eyes opened at once, hands separating like a spell broken. Dent looked disoriented, but unsurprised. Lawrence was, as always, composed.
“As you saw,” Lawrence said, gesturing calmly to Dent, “the parasite is preserving his living state, while overwriting his core structure. His decisions, his will, identity. Everything.”
I shoved the rising dread down deep as he continued.
“It’s not death, it’s assimilation. And that makes it far more difficult to handle.”
Dent looked pale, but not shocked. Just… resigned. “I could’ve told you that without the prayer circle,” he muttered.
My eyes rounded in on Lawrence. “Then get to the point. What can we do?”
Lawrence took a breath, the kind you take before delivering bad news, but I could tell it was only performative.
“Assuming a clinical cure cannot be created, there are three options available. I will provide the tools for each,” he said, gesturing only to Dent. “But the choice is yours to make.”
“Go on,” I said, folding my arms.
“First, the obvious.” He paused, letting the weight of inevitability settle. “You can allow the infection to persist. You’ll live, but how much of you remains, if any… is unknown.”
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Dent cut in, voice firm and too confident for my liking, but at least he wasn’t resisting anymore. “What else you got?”
“You may see the next as a solemn option,” Lawrence continued, laying something down between us. “But many have found it to be… the most honest.”
A blade, black as pitch. No edge or hilt. Just a pointed spike of onyx-like crystal.
“The Null-Aether Knife,” he named it, almost reverently. “It offers a painless, complete death. One that would sever the host, and the parasite, beyond recovery.”
My breath caught just looking at it. “How could you even suggest that?”
“Remy…” Dent’s voice was barely a whisper.
“That’s not an option,” I said sharply. “That’s surrender.”
“Let’s get real for a second, alright?” Dent met my eyes. Something strange in his expression, not defeat, but something close. “It’s not what we want. But…”
“Don’t even!” I snapped.
“But it might be the best thing we have.”
“Put that bullshit back, Lawrence.” I barked, but he didn’t. “And I really hope your next idea is better than that.”
“Very well,” Lawrence said, smoothly cutting through the tension before it could boil over. “The third option is what we call soul transference.”
The name hit like a chill breeze.
“The body is compromised,” he continued. “But the soul remains whole; so it can be moved.”
“Moved to what?” Dent asked, still eyeing the blade.
“There are a few branches here. The first is simple storage.” He produced a small statue from his coat. It looked ancient. Crude. Faceless. “A soulstone,” he explained. “It would hold you in a dream-like state, suspended until a more suitable vessel becomes available.”
“So… a prison,” Dent muttered.
“I wouldn’t call it that, but let's move on.” Lawrence set it down next to the knife. “The second option offers more freedom, but you’ll lose many core aspects of what it means to live.”
“Such as?” I asked, wary.
“Touch, taste, those types of things… But we can transfer you into an object of your choosing. A suit of armor. A golem. Something mobile enough to enact your will in the physical world.”
“Terrifying,” I said honestly. “But… something. I guess”
“Come on, Remy, we both know I’d go mad in that shell, ” Dent said, before slipping into a half-joke, “and I’d have to give up pastries.”
I wanted to throw a joke back at him, but so far, all these options had only left me more hopeless than before.
Nevertheless, Lawrence’s expression didn’t change. “And finally,” he said, clearing his throat with just enough theatrics to send my eyes rolling before I could stop them. “The best outcome, and the one requiring the greatest cost… We give you a new body.”
The air went still.
“Wait, what?” I said, not sure I heard him right.
“Doesn’t that mean someone has to… die?” Dent asked.
“Yes,” Lawrence said without hesitation. “And the death must be clean, surgical even. Realistically, this requires someone willing… a volunteer.”
“Holy shit.” Dent reeled back slightly.
But for me, the world narrowed. Because I already knew. There was a volunteer. Me. It had to be me. Dent saved me that day. Traded his life for mine. Gave me a year I was never supposed to have. Now I could give it back. Not the same, but enough.
“I know that look, Remy, don't even think about it.”
I blinked at him, not in denial, but in disbelief. “Why not?”
“Because it’s insane to even think about.” He stood, voice rising as he reached down and grabbed the black-bladed knife, too quick for me to stop him. “I’m not letting you throw away your life for me. Or anyone else’s, for that matter.”
“Okay… Well, there are other options.” I was standing now, too, heat boiling in my throat as I lunged to take the knife from him, but he pulled away. “Don’t be an idiot. Put that back!”
Lawrence shifted over to the corner, cross-legged and watching, but he might as well have disappeared.
“Everything's failed, Remy!” He barked. “I’m at the end of my rope. People have already died. No one else needs to, and certainly not you.”
“I don’t give a fuck!” The thought of Kael ran through my mind, turning my voice to grit. “I’ll bury them all before I let you use that thing.” I reached around him, but he shoved me back with one arm.
“That’s the fucking problem, Remy!” His hand held firm between us. “I can't let you do that. I don’t want that.”
“Dent…” I stilled, anger flaring. “Give me. That fucking. Knife.” I reached to pull aether, but it fought me, sending a surge of pain down my spine. “Don’t make me take it from you.”
Dent stood his ground, eyes cautious but unrelenting. “This is my choice,” he said, tone sharp and clipped. “I’m sorry, but you don’t get a say.”
“Your choice!?” I scoffed, bitter and breaking. “I should have died that day we met in the woods, and you know it.”
“I’m happy I saved you, Remy.” He stowed the knife before I could stop him. “And I’d do it all again… No question.”
“Don’t you say that to me!” I pushed into his arm, weak but determined. My body was barely holding up, but this, this was worse. “You can’t! I… can't.”
“This is the only thing I have left.” His voice broke slightly. “My death. On my terms. Not as a monster. Not after hurting someone. Not after I forget who I am. If I’m dying, I’m doing it as me.”
“You’re not a monster!” I wanted to cry.
“Not yet!” he snapped.
The tent fell into a deadly silence. Even Lawrence, ever composed, seemed to hold still.
Dent’s voice dropped low, steadier now. “But it’s coming. I can feel it. Like my own thoughts are being smothered one by one. You want me to wait around? Watch the lights go out while you pretend that transfer thing doesn’t carry a cost I could never live with?”
“I don’t care about the cost!” I yelled, tears forming. “You think I give a shit if I have to die for this? You’re the only family I have, Dent… I’ll trade if I have to!”
He shook his head, eyes shimmering. “Then, as your brother… You know I can’t let you.”
“Dammit!” My chest caved in. “You don’t get to make that call!”
“I do!” His fists clutched white. “It’s my life!”
“Fuck, Dent! Just stop this bullshit already!” I screamed like shattering glass. “You expect me to just stand here and watch you choose to die… For what? Because it’s easier?”
“It’s not easy,” he said, barely above a whisper. “It’s the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever had to do, and I know you know that.”
I could barely breathe. My voice cracked around the words. “Just let me fight for you… Gods, Dent, please.”
“You have.” He looked away, jaw clenched, before muttering, “I love you, Remy, but I’m done.”
That broke me. “I love you too.” The words came bitter and broken. I could hardly speak. “That’s why I’ll never stop fighting you on this.”
Dent didn’t move, not for a long moment. And then, in a voice so soft I almost didn’t hear it. ”I’m leaving.”
“Not with that, you’re not,” I said, clenching my fists hard enough to send searing pain up my arm, but when I went to punch, it was like hitting a brick wall. It did nothing but reverberate like a shockwave through my body.
My teeth clenched hard against the surge, then he looked at me, expression sad but knowing. “I’m going. I promise… I will see you in the morning.”
“...Please don’t.” The words barely formed.
I wanted to scream, cry, plead. Gods, if I had any strength left, I’d knock his lights out. My voice only came in a whisper. “Damn it, Dent, I wish I’d died that day.”
My breath failed as he turned towards the tent flap. Pausing to turn one last time, before finally letting it close behind him without another word.
                                        ...
The silence after Dent’s exit was worse than the shouting.
It clung to the air like soot, bitter, heavy, choking.
I sat frozen, jaw tight, the ache in my ribs returning now that the adrenaline had drained away. Across from me, Lawrence hadn’t moved. Still composed. Still unreadable. Like none of this mattered, and he was just waiting for my signal to leave.
My blood was boiling, and yet, he was the only one still here. Offering help. Or a blade to die on.
Either way, I turned toward him, jaw clenched.
“Got something to say,” I snapped, “or do you just enjoy watching people fall apart?”
His mouth curved faintly. Not quite a smirk.
“I don’t enjoy it, no.” A pause. “But I do find it… instructive.”
“Of course you would.” I scowled. “It’s so like you to speak in unfeeling riddles that make no fucking sense.”
“What would you have him do, Remy?” he asked, not missing a beat.
“Something. Anything!” I dropped onto the bedroll with a thump. “He could live with the parasite until we find a cure. That’s what you said, isn’t it?”
“Not exactly.” His pause came polished, practiced. “You understand that, what remains… would likely be untreatable.” He said it lightly. Almost gently. “Some would argue that losing agency, your sense of self, is a fate worse than death.”
“I get it!” I snapped. “But that’s not the only option. We could do the storage, give him another body. I’d give him mine for fuck’s sake.”
That touched something. For the first time, Lawrence’s expression faltered. Only a flicker, but real. “Are you certain?”
“If we’d never met, I’d be dead, and he wouldn’t be sick. It’s righting a wrong.”
“So... meeting him is a wrong needing righted?”
“No…” My voice softened. “Of course not.”
Lawrence tilted his head, pale hair catching the low light like threads of silver. “Do you believe in fate, Remy?”
My voice cracked like it knew just how much I hated the notion of any of this being an act of fate. “Just shut the fuck up.” I exhaled hard, trying to pull in a steady breath but failing. “If this is what fate dictates, I’d like to bash her fucking face in.”
That earned the hint of a real laugh, the kind only monsters have when they admire your fury.
“The gods themselves should fear that fire of yours.”
“Compliment me all you want.” My throat tightened. “It won’t save him… Nothing will.”
“Perhaps not,” he said, calm as falling ash.
That calm made me want to scream. Instead, I laughed once, sharp and empty.
“It’s infuriating how you make everything sound… inevitable.”
He didn’t deny it, just stared as if waiting for something.
I leaned forward, elbows to knees. My core flared white-hot, but I didn’t care.
“I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore. Why are we still here if Dent’s just… given up?”
“You’re surviving,” he said plainly. “It’s what you do best.”
That shouldn’t have made my chest hurt more. But it did. And I hated him for it.
Hated how steady he was.
How easy it was to forget the avalanche of blood on his hands when he spoke like that.
How comforting he’d become, not because he cared, but because he didn’t.
“I just...” My voice broke. “I just want one second where it doesn’t feel like the world is collapsing in on me.”
He watched me for a long moment. Then, finally, scooted closer, slow and deliberate, arms raised. “Perhaps... a hug is in order.”
A breathless chuckle escaped. “You? Hugging? I’m not in the mood for jokes, Lawrence.”
“Our deal is up,” he said, not blinking. “Yet you haven’t asked me to leave.” His head tilted. “Why is that?”
My eyes rolled. “Let me guess… You need verbal consent to get the hell out of my tent, too.”
“Tell me to leave and I will.” He said plainly, but I didn't respond.
A long moment of silence passed. “You’re making me look foolish holding my arms like this.” That practiced smile creased his face like a mask folding neatly into place. “Do you want a hug, or not?”
I stared at him, thinking maybe he’d drop his arms before I got there. But crept in anyway. Wordless. Until my shoulder pressed into his chest and my cheek met the soft fabric of his coat.
His arm wrapped around my back, not warm or tight. Just… there. Steady but lacking everything I usually found comforting.
No slow warmth to melt into like Dent.
No unshakable strength like Val or gracious finesse like Eshlyn.
He just… held me. Not like someone who cared. But like someone who’d seen enough breakage to know how to brace against it. Efficient. Practiced and eerily unfeeling. Maybe that’s why I didn’t pull away. It was like being cradled in the eye of a storm, still and quiet, all the while knowing it would wreck you the moment it chose to move.
My arms wound around his neck, sinking into him further with each breath. Until the last thread of caution in me whispered: If it doesn’t matter, it can’t hurt you.
Then I drew back just enough to look at him. “You don’t care about any of this, do you?” I asked quietly, like I knew the answer.
“A loaded question.” His tone didn’t shift. “I already told you, I couldn’t care less about your friends.” His posture softened. “But I do hate seeing you like this.”
Liar. Even if I hadn’t known it in my gut, I sensed it in his ease, the way he said it without hesitation. Like a line he’d used before. Well-practiced but a lie all the same.
“You care about me but not them?” I played along.
“I suppose you could say that.” His hand ghosted my waist. “Though if you died tomorrow, I’m not sure I’d bat an eyelid.”
“You’re annoyingly honest…,” I said, looking away now. When you're not lying, that is.
That's when he reached a steady hand toward my face, dragging a thumb along the curve of my jaw, light and far too gentle. Pulling my gaze as if almost… affectionate. “What is it you want from me, Remy?”
My breath hitched, but I didn’t move away. Maybe I should have, but I didn’t flinch, and neither did he. His eyes lay steady. Confident. Waiting.
My voice came soft. Bitter, but certain. “A distraction,” I said, eyes flicking to his lips, red and glistening, then back. “A one-time, meaningless distraction.”
“Hmm.” His gaze swept me down and up again. “Are you sure that is what you want?”
I paused, then nodded. “Yes.”
An insidious smile tugged at his mouth, slow and precise. “As you wish,” he murmured.
Then his lips met mine. Cold but magnetic. No spark or heat. Just pressure and control, too intoxicating to let go of. They lulled me into a kind of surrender one after the next, tongue brushing mine in slow waves that sent my blood rushing for more.
His arms braced by thighs, lifting me into his lap with fluid ease, settling me astride him like I weighed nothing. A gasp left my lips as my hips pulled, and his hands slid under my tunic to wrap my sides.
It shouldn't have felt so good. I almost didn’t want it to, and yet it did, terrifyingly so, like being wrapped in silk that might strangle you.
His fingers slid into my hair as his mouth drifted to my neck, lips brushing in an arc so deliberate it stole my breath in measured waves, even as the distant ache of pain in my core threatened to drag me back to reality.
The part of me that knew better screamed to pull away, but it felt far off now, like someone else’s voice in a distant room. And then came the other voice. Quieter. If it doesn’t mean anything, it can’t hurt.
“This changes nothing,” I whispered, even as my body arched into every nip and glide of his perfectly placed lips.
His hands trailed my back, gentle but fluid. Eyes locked on my throat, not like a lover, but a predator with excellent manners. “My thoughts exactly,” he said, voice velveted steel.
I exhaled sharply as my tunic fell to the floor along with his coat. My chest pressed into him, back arching, both with the painful sear that movement brought and the burning desire to bridge any last bits of fabric separating us.
He pulled back slightly when I leaned in again, keeping a hand on the small of my back, the other drifting down from chest to stomach, studying. “You’re tense,” he said. Not a question.
“Coma,” I responded, leaning over him in a pose I wished felt less romantic. “I woke up this morning.”
“Well, that simply won’t do.” His gaze flicked down my body, studying, admiring, then up again. All the while, the gentle caress of his palm trailed down, threading between fabric and skin until it reached the hem of my pants. “I can offer relief. Would you like that?”
I hesitated, throat tightening until finally I nodded once.
“Say it,” he said, eyes meeting mine.
I swallowed then whispered, “Yes.”
His hand slid lower as the word resonated through the air, fingers drifting toward my pelvis, sliding under my clothes like silk and teasing with a grace that had me collapsing into his shoulder.
Oh gods… Lawrence.
My breath hitched as his other hand drifted up to find the back of my neck, pulling my gaze to his, lips lingering just an inch away. Then, a warm current rippled over my skin. A spell I could feel but not name. It tore the tension from my shoulders. The pain dulled. My breath loosened as if a weight had been lifted from my lungs.
My eyes closed, forehead pressing into his as relief hit like a drug, harder than any embrace could. And that’s when I knew: This was a mistake.
It meant nothing.
And yet… I fell into him anyway.
He was tender and gentle, like I was something fragile he couldn’t afford to break. Careful. Comforting and addictive in all the ways that felt dangerous.
And when I broke, it wasn't slow.
I pulled him down over me, legs tightening around his hips like they’d never let go. Hands cradling his neck, slipping through his hair, body pressing in like it could convince my mind that this could stay hollow and still feel warm, but I didn’t care.
Because this mistake… this lie… was one I wasn’t ready to stop making.