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My eyes cracked open to the hum of low morning light seeping through the tent's fabric and the bounding pain from before, barely numbed from a day of recovery. It gripped my chest in radiating pulses, daring me to try and move. At least I was able to, now unassisted, but the ache bloomed outward with every inch, like a bruise rediscovering itself. All the same, the grog of sleep began slipping away, piece by piece, leaving nothing but the weight of what I’d done and the cold, empty space beside me.
Lawrence was gone.
I didn’t expect him to stay, of course I didn’t, but still, the absence hit harder than I cared to admit. It left me with no way to distinguish if I missed him or the pain-relieving spell he used to help me sleep… among other things.
A folded slip of parchment was all that remained.
I sat up to read it the best I could, feeling the cold bite of the outside air against my exposed frame as the blankets rolled their way down to my waist. The paper coiled between my fingers, as crisp and nuanced as the man who wrote it.
A shame I could not stay to distract you further. Enjoy the day.
No signature. Just the kind of message meant to sting softly, and then fade like perfume in the air. On the far side of the tent lay a spell scroll he imbued. A soul stone beside it. No knife, which reminded me, at some point today, I’d have to get it back from Dent. A topic I was clearly not looking forward to rehashing.
My head rested in my palm for a bit, as I twirled the note through my fingers, slowly letting go of the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
Then a sharp knock accompanied by a low voice cut through from the entrance, leaving me just enough time to pull the blanket over myself before Val stormed in holding a tray with some kind of biscuit on it, accompanied by two mugs.
“Wakey wakey, I brought you some...”
Val’s voice cut short as he ducked under the tent flap, freezing just shy of the entrance but peering in long enough to connect the dots between my barely-covered body and the note still hanging between my fingers.
Silence lingered with the realization. Thick and embarrassing. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to.
“Val...” I started.
But he turned on his heel and walked out without a word. Dropping the tray to the ground, barely slow enough to keep it from spilling.
“Val, wait!”
I shoved the blanket aside, cursing under my breath as frigid air bit at my skin, accompanied by the stabbing pain that came from quick motion. No time to get dressed, so I just grabbed the closest thing, my cloak, and wrapped it tight around my shoulders, stumbling barefoot out into the camp. Morning dew seeping into my toes.
He was already halfway across the circular space that rested just outside, fast and furious in that silent, storming way of his.
“Val!” I called again, louder, but he didn’t stop.
I caught up a few paces later, heart hammering, cloak flapping around me like a flag of guilt. “Val, please, just… can't we talk?”
He spun so fast I nearly crashed into him. “Are you fucking serious, Remy?”
I flinched, not from the volume, but the look on his face. Like I’d hit him. “I get why you might be upset,” I said, fumbling. “Okay, I just…”
“I get we’re not exclusive, but come on… Really?”
I tried to say something, but the air choked my throat and the words eluded me.
“With him?” Val’s voice cracked, low and livid. “Obviously, you can do whatever the hell you want. It’s not like we’ve ever… restricted anything, but seriously? The guy’s a walking murder case, and that's being generous.”
“Come on, Val. Don’t do that.”
He scoffed. “Do what? Call him what he is?”
“I know what he is, okay.” I challenged, voice rising. “And I’m not trying to defend him but…”
He interrupted, pacing. “Not defending him?”
“I’m not!” I could hardly keep my cloak from flying away, like everything else I’d been trying to hold together.“ He’s not great, but it’s never been about that!”
“Gods Remy, surely you're not naive enough to think he gives a fuck about you, cuz I promise… He doesn’t!”
“Dammit, Val! It didn’t mean anything, that's why I did it!” I reached for his hand. “I just needed...”
“Needed what, Rem?” He jerked back from my touch. “To be hurt by someone who doesn’t give a shit?”
“Well, not when you say it like that.”
“How should I say it then?” He barked a bitter laugh, arms gesturing outward. “Please tell me. I can't wait to hear how it all makes sense to you.”
“Maybe if you’d give me a second to fucking talk!” I snapped back, needless and unsure of what to say.
“Nah, okay! You got something to say… Go ahead.” He waved an arm. “Tell me how sleeping with a psychopath is somehow better than…” His jaw clenched, but he only stared.
I looked away. Shame settling low and sharp. My mouth opened after a beat, but nothing came out.
He waited. Then blinked, staring at me. “Fucking say something, Remy!”
“I don’t know!” I exclaimed before letting out a sigh. “There’s all this shit going on with Dent and jail, and I just wanted a second where it wasn’t all pressing down on me… Just for one second!”
Footsteps shuffled nearby.
“Hey!” Came Bram’s tired voice from just around the corner, “could y’all keep it...”
Val didn’t miss a beat. “This doesn’t concern you!” He barked. “Get back in your fucking tent!
She looked like he’d slapped her, but she didn’t say anything else, just disappeared in a huff.
“Please, Val.” I tried to hold his hand again, but he inched away. “I still…” My mind went to love, but I knew this would be the worst time for something like that to come out, so I continued with: “Care about you… deeply.”
“Gods of all the people you could of had a fucking booty call with.” He softened if only a little. “Look, I get it. You’re dealing with a lot. I guess he's charming, and… good-looking… or whatever.”
I took a step towards him, and this time, finally, he didn’t retreat. “C’mon, Val.”
“I just… I brought you breakfast.” He looked away like he regretted even saying it. “Because I thought you might be worried, or in pain, and gods, I wish it didn’t bother me so much, but it does.”
I swallowed hard. “I know it was a mistake,” I said, voice low. “It was stupid. I did it because I knew he didn’t care… and I didn’t want to, either… Just for one night. And I know that doesn’t make much sense, but… the point is… I’m sorry. I understand it shouldn’t matter, but I also know that it does.”
Val stared at me.
The camp held its breath.
“…You think saying sorry makes any of this better?”
“No,” I whispered. “But it’s all I’ve got.”
He didn’t answer. Just let the silence bite between us, then turned his head, jaw locked. Finally, he exhaled, shaky, raw, and rubbed a hand through his hair. “You’re a fucking disaster sometimes, you know that?”
“I know.” I breathed.
“…But I still want to be part of it,” he muttered. “Gods help me… but I care about you too.”
A long breath passed between us. Softer now. Warmer. Like the shouting had burned up the worst of it. Then he looked at me, really looked, and the corner of his mouth pulled into something like a grin. “You look ridiculous.”
I scoffed, glancing down at the cloak gingerly wrapped around my naked frame. “Yeah, well… I had to chase your dumb ass out here. Keep you from doing something stupid.”
“Me do something stupid?” He blinked, almost offended, then sighed. “If you did anything smart, I’d assume you were replaced by a doppelgänger.”
My eyes rolled as hard as possible, then a laugh broke out before I could stop it. “Can we go back? I’m freezing my ass off.”
“Good. You deserve it.” His shoulders finally relaxed, like the last of it was draining out.
I hesitated. “Are we okay?”
He didn’t answer right away, just met my eyes. Then: “Yeah… Alright.”
“You forgive me?” I prodded, maybe too soon.
“Hell no.” He shot back, but softened anyway, a crease of a smile tugging at his lips.
The quiet that followed wasn’t tense this time. Just tired. Settled.
He gave a quick head tilt and turned back toward my tent as if we could try again. I followed beside him, the ground still damp under my feet, cloak drawn tight around my shoulders. It fluttered with each step like a worn flag, but I didn’t mind the cold as much now.
“You know,” he muttered after a beat, “You wake up naked and yell at me in the middle of camp a few more times, and I'll start feeding your breakfast to Nyla."
My head shook, “I thought you liked the angry, bossy type.” I teased. “Naked is just a bonus.”
“Naked and angry, I can deal with, not all that… other bullshit you got going on.”
“mhmm.” I bumped his shoulder with my own. “Then maybe you should knock next time.”
“I knocked.”
“Didn’t wait for an answer, though.” I glanced over.
“Uh-huh.” His mouth twitched like he was fighting off a betraying grin. “...You’re the one in trouble here, don’t try throwing this back on me.”
I stifled a laugh. “Yeah, yeah.” Then sighed. “I know.”
He picked up the breakfast tray when we reached my tent again. I’d accidentally kicked over one of the mugs on my way out, but he didn’t seem to mind. Just held the flap open, eyes forward. “Guess we're sharing one cup and the biscuits are coming pre-soaked.”
“Mmm. regret biscuits. My favorite.” I paused inside, half-turning toward him. “Turn around, I gotta change.”
“Sure thing, princess.” He turned with a smug grin.
“Don’t peak.” I knew he would.
“Hmmhmmmm.”
…
It wasn’t long before we headed over to Eshlyn’s tent, now fully dressed and full from breakfast. I knocked on the outer post with Val at my side. “Esh. It’s me and Val… We need to talk.”
My eyes drifted to Val with a tinge of sass, “See how we wait before entering someone's personal space.”
He shook his head with a reluctant grin as his eyes rolled in response, and Eshlyn’s voice carried through the flap. “Come in.”
I pushed the canvas aside and stepped through, only to pause, immediately disoriented.
“Whoa…” I murmured under my breath.
From the outside, Eshlyn’s tent looked like every other field post, olive drab canvas, weather-worn seams, and a battered support pole or two. But inside? It was practically a sanctum. The space stretched wider than physics should’ve allowed.
The floor was covered in overlapping violet rugs, worn in places but soft beneath our boots. A ghlyphed stone floated above, as if held on an invisible string. Then there was the bed, a real one, with carved legs and a proper mattress, tucked beneath a draped canopy of silk that shimmered like moonlight. A low table stood in the corner, cluttered with parchment, dried herbs, ink bottles, and arcane implements laid out in meticulous chaos. Everything about the room felt pristine and curated.
Val let out a low whistle. “Damn. You’ve been holding out on us.”
“Holy shit, Eshlyn… How’d you get them to haul a whole mattress and bedframe out here for you?”
Eshlyn stepped down from the mattress with tired eyes and her hair hastily braided. “Apologies... It’s a spatial distortion rune,” she explained, pointing to the stone floating in the center. “A family heirloom, very rare… obviously… and they loaded anything I asked them to.”
“Damn… for real,” I said, stepping further in. “Hang on though… Lawrence told me spacial sorcery was special, or something?”
Val playfully gagged at the mention of Lawrence, prompting another eye roll from me.
She snorted. “Yes, space is one of the four immutable pillars… Hence why it's a heirloom. I couldn’t make one if I tried.”
Val nudged a foot beneath one of the rugs, testing the texture. “Yeah, yeah, impossible magic… so what's a guy got to do to snag one of those pillows, you know… one that isn’t stuffed with pine needles?”
Eshlyn chuckled in that rich folk way, “Surely you did not come over just to bargain for pillows.”
“No.” I pulled my gaze back from the extravagance of it all to sit at the edge of the bed, finally. “We need to talk about Dent.”
“Figures.” She sighed, making her way down to my side. “What’d Lawrence come up with?”
“Big idiot gave Dent a knife to kill himself with.” Val took a seat on my other side. “And somehow managed to bed Remy afterward.”
Eshlyn almost choked on her own saliva. “You’re serious?”
“Seriously, Val.” My head shook. “Can you not?”
“You slept with him after that?” She leaned in, eyes widening.
“Dent left with the knife,” I said, as if that changed anything. “I was devastated.”
“Exactly.” Val chimed in, “Guy’s a manipulative prick.”
“Wait, what?” She said, voice now tinged with concern.
“Relax.” My eyes rolled. “I came onto him. It was all… consensual.”
She paused for a long beat. “Do you fancy him then?”
“Gods no,” I said too quickly, then thought for a second. “If anything, I feel like I used him.”
“You used him?” She echoed, brows furrowing.
“Yes.” My arms waved. “He was just very… willing to be used.”
Val pretended to gag, prompting another eye roll from me.
“Hmm…” She blinked in contemplation. “Can’t say I blame you then, he is kind of beautiful… even if he gives me the creeps.”
“I can’t be the only one upset about this,” Val leaned his head back against the bedframe. “You’re being too easy on her, Esh.”
“That being said.” Eshlyn nodded. “Val does have a point.”
“Val has a point?” I turned, “…Who are you?”
“Hear me out.” She motioned lazily, “A gentleman would not have slept with you while you were emotionally compromised like that.”
“Thank you!” Val said, waving an arm.
“I already told you I used him.” I shot back, almost playfully.
Val pretended to gag again, so I punched him in the shoulder, chuckling lightly before wincing at the pain reverberating from the contact. “Stop doing that!”
His hands raised in surrender, but I knew he was the furthest thing from sorry.
“Fine, he’s a douchebag… I’ll tell him that next time I see him.” I admitted, trying to change the subject: “More importantly, how are we going to get the knife back from Dent?”
“Right.” Eshlyn turned, brows furrowed. “I have a question… ”
“Not about me sleeping with Lawrence.” I raised a brow before pointing to Val, “Don’t you dare!”
Val only laughed.
“It’s not about Lawrence.” A breathy chuckle left her lips. ”We have plenty of blades. Why give us another one?”
“He said it was special… Painless and complete, as he put it.” I gestured, shrugging my shoulders. “It doesn’t matter; we need to get it back before he does something stupid with it.”
“Alright… Well. ” She waved a hand, “What else did he say?”
“The parasite is taking control without killing him,” I responded, purposefully leaving out the soul transfer bit. “He can let it continue or end things on his terms.”
“That’s it?” She questioned, voice tinging with disbelief.
“Well…” I thought about lying for a minute, but eventually conceded. “He also gave me this.” I sighed, laying down the small, crude statue, and pulling the spell scroll from my bag. “Sorry, I didn’t show you this yet, Val, but it’s a scroll imbued to transfer his soul into the stone.”
They eyed both utensils for a long beat before Val picked up the statue. “He can live in this thing?”
“Basically.” I responded, “Till we find a better host.” A volunteer other than myself, I guess.
“It’s necromancy.” Eshlyn studied the scroll. “Powerful and… eerily unnatural.”
“Arguably pretty evil too,” Val said, voice calm enough to be annoying.
“It’s all we have.” I shot back, voice edged with more bite than intended.
“Hold on,” Eshlyn said, studying. “This scroll doesn’t say it has to be the statue,” she pointed out, eyes furrowing. “Seems like it could be placed in… anything.”
Dammit. I should have known she’d figure that out.
Val tossed the statue back and forth in his fingers as the tent went silent for a bit. “I imagine we’re all in agreement then.”
Eshlyn nodded, but I had no idea what they were referring to.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s obvious,” Eshlyn said, one hand still holding the scroll. “We have to destroy it.”
“We what!?” I shot up with a jolt of pain, ripping it from her grip in quick motion. “It’s Dent’s last hope.”
“That's not hope, Remy.” Val stood in sequence. “Dent would hate that, and you know it.”
“Val’s right,” Eshlyn said, arms folded. “Dent would rather die than take someone's body… or be stuck in a soul prison.”
“It’s not a prison.” I shot back.
“It is until someone wants to play host to his soul,” Val argued. “You didn’t show me this before, and if the choices are this grim, then I’m sorry, but the knife is the best one.”
“The knife is the best one?” I echoed. “What the hell are you saying?”
“Remy… please.” Eshlyn tried to take my hand, “From what I understand, a clean death means his aether will join the collective until he’s eventually able to come back as a specter… like Selene.”
“That could take centuries!” I pulled back. “And, big distinction here… he’ll be dead.”
“We can’t be selfish here.” Val snapped.
“Selfish!?” Anger rose like bile in my throat. “I thought you were on my side with this.”
“I know you too well,” Val said, voice even. “You’re both being ridiculous, but at least Dent’s decision is honorable.”
“How could you say that to me?” My eyes met his, soft yet full of fire.
“Rem.” Eshlyn motioned with her arms. “Let’s just take a breath, alright.”
“I’m keeping it,” I said, voice firm.
“Hold onto it as long as you want.” Val crossed his arms in a matter-of-fact kind of way. “I’ll never let you use it.”
My jaw clenched. I wanted to fight him, even if I knew he was right. That’s it, isn’t it… he was right. A big part of me wanted to argue, but the other part was exhausted. My chest cracked as I finally softened, shoulders slumping as I slid to the floor. “Gods, I'm sorry. I just… What are we going to do?”
Val took a breath, shoulders relaxing as if he expected me to resist harder, then crouched down in front of me, meeting my gaze with soft eyes. “We’ll do everything we can.”
Eshlyn squeezed my hand in turn, “However slim the chances are, we have yet to map the entire tomb… There could still be something there.”
“If we’re going back in, then we have to hurry.” Val chimed in again. “I know you’re not fully recovered…”
“No.” I interrupted with a lie. “I’m ready.”
“Then the others will follow you… We just have to tell them.”
“Right,” I said in surrender. “What about the knife?”
“Honestly…” Eshlyn intertwined our fingers. “We need to ensure we’re on the same page with him, but I say we let him keep it.”
“As a last resort.” Val chimed in quickly. “Of course.”
“That’s our big plan?” I scoffed without breaking contact. “We make him promise not to kill himself unless he has to?”
“That,” Eshlyn said, squeezing my hand again. “And we make sure any time we have left with him… is as good as we can make it.”
Vals shook his head in solemn agreement.
A lump formed in my throat. “Just… let me hold onto the scroll for now, okay?”
They eyed each other briefly, then turned back to me with reluctant nods.
…
The day came and went in a haze of quiet reflection and unwanted clarity. A short walk with Nyla. A far-off wave from Dent, whom I was still too conflicted to approach. My first leadership meeting since waking was hellish, at least for me.
I was welcomed back like a hero.
Selene had been handling logistics in my absence, something I thanked her for with a graceless hug against her ghost-like form. Dagonbord watched me the entire time, his gaze like a nail through skin, while I flinched my way through every ‘Your Grace’ hurled in my direction.
Eventually, I gave the order. At first light, we were going back to explore the remainder of the tomb. No one argued, of course. It felt like my word was law to them now. Any attempt to side-step reverence was only seen as humility, so I had no choice but to accept it and move on.
Dagonbord issued instructions for his soldiers to begin placing the smokepowder barrels that came in while I was out. I wasn’t in love with the idea, but I let it go.
Tovin spoke for the Fangs now, proposing to meet later that night in celebration of my miraculous recovery and to hold a final memorial for Kael. I accepted, mostly because I’d missed the official funeral. His body had already been sent off, being routed back to his family with his belongings. Some part of me was relieved I’d been unconscious for that bit, but it meant tonight would be my last chance to say goodbye with everyone.
The meeting ended with the sharp finality of a blade pressed flat, and nearly everyone had dispersed before I saw him. Lawrence. Waiting patiently outside the tent, like a ghost in the night. Close enough to be seen but far enough that no one would stumble into him by accident.
Some part of me was excited to see him, though I shoved that feeling down deep enough to pretend it didn’t exist as I approached briskly and he eyed me with an unreadable expression.
“What are you doing here, Lawrence?” I asked, crossing my arms in the final steps between us.
“How cold.” His gaze swept over me, calm and amused. “Not so welcoming, now that I’ve seen you… undone?”
The statement sent a shiver up my spine as I turned away, eyes wide and face flush with embarrassment. “Don’t remind me.” I croaked before a hand found the back of my neck, and I lied through my teeth. “That’s one mistake I’m desperately trying to forget about.”
He raised a hand to his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”
“Oh… I… didn’t mean it like that.” I waved my hands in a flustered half-apology. “It’s just… Uhh. Well… You know.”
“I do,” he said with a practiced smile. “It meant nothing.” A deliberate pause. “To either of us.”
“Right.” I waved again, forcing a laugh without meeting his eyes. “Exactly.”
“Well…” He gestured lazily toward a path winding through camp. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, care for a stroll? Or are you afraid another mistake might slip into our evening?”
My eyes narrowed, but I followed anyway, falling into a lazy step beside him.
“Since we’re on the subject…” I muttered, “Eshlyn says a gentleman might’ve offered comfort without the… Undoing.”
“Smart girl.” His gloved hands clasped behind his back. “But that’s not what you asked for, is it?”
“Well… no,” I admitted, glancing sideways. “But still.”
“Did you not get everything you wanted?” he asked, voice smooth with tease.
“Ahhh, actually…” An awkward laugh escaped me. “Can we just talk about something else? Please.”
“Very well.” He stepped toward a downed tree just outside the perimeter and sat with that same perfect posture. “I’d like to have you over for dinner.”
I nearly tripped. “Uhh... What?”
“Which part did you not understand?”
I stayed standing, arms crossed, eyeing him with all the suspicion of someone who definitely knew better by now. “Like a date?”
“Heavens, no.” His tone went dry, almost mocking. “There’s someone who wants to meet you, before you march off to prison, that is.”
“Great,” I exhaled, then laid on the sarcasm. “You know I just love mysterious dinners with unnamed strangers, but why, exactly, should I attend this one?”
“Dawn will be there,” he said with a laced smile. “And I know you’ve always had a taste for the theatrical.”
“Uh-huh.” I studied him for a beat. “And is this you, calling in that favor I owe?”
“Does it need to be?” His voice was smooth as ever.
“We both know better than to believe in anything that comes without cost.” I tilted my head, mocking his tone. “So what’s the price?”
He smiled, sharp and full of teeth. “Your charming company, in exchange for a lovely dinner. Seems fair to me.”
“Let’s cut the bullshit, shall we?” I gave him a smile to match his own, sharp, polished, and empty. “Who are they? Why me? And what do they want?”
“My, my,” he said lightly. “So many questions.”
“Yet you evade any answers.”
“Explanation comes with consequences, Remy. I’m offering dinner, not a contract.”
“So buy my silence with the truth.” I raised a brow, maybe looking a little too proud of that one. “Or burn your favor.”
He sighed. A sound of pure theater. “I’d hoped you might be more… trusting. Our host simply values their privacy, is all.”
I didn’t blink. “What do they want, Lawrence?”
“Ask them yourself.”
“Tell me.” I met his eyes, unflinching. “Or I'm not going.”
His gaze sharpened, the performance thinning for just a breath. “Then I’m calling in our favor.”
“Good,” I said flatly. “But I’m busy right now, so they’ll have to wait a few days.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“That is not a few days.”
A pause. Then a bow of his head, half amusement, half grace. “Very well. I’ll come to call on you the day after next.”
“Fine.” I bit the air, unsure if I’d won, or just played right into his hands.
A long pause lingered between us. Mostly awkward yet interwoven with… something I didn’t have a name for.
“Now then.” He stood, brushing imaginary dust from his coat, and reached into his inner pocket. “Before I forget. A pastry. For your friend… as promised.”
The paper crinkled softly in his hand as he held it out, not dramatic or showy. Just… there. I hesitated, caught off guard by the sudden reminder of something simple and kind. Something that had nothing to do with strategy or secrets.
My fingers closed around the bundle, gentler than I meant them to be. “Thank you, Lawrence.”
“Getting sentimental, are we?” he asked, tone laced with curious bite.
A quiet chuckle escaped me, and before I could overthink it, I stepped in and wrapped my arms around his waist.
He didn’t respond at first. Just went rigid.
Not like before, when he posed as calm.
This was something real. Like I’d surprised him.
After a moment, he placed one arm around my shoulders. Hesitant. Measured. Not cold, just… careful.
I lingered for a beat, then stepped back. “It means a lot.”
His expression flickered, just slightly. Almost confused. “You’re welcome… of course.” He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that must conclude my visit for tonight.”
“Good,” I teased, already turning away.
“Excuse me?” he scoffed, trying for offense.
A telling smirk curved my lips as I glanced back. “Good riddance.”
He didn’t laugh. Just shook his head with that infuriating, reluctant smile of his. “See you soon, Remy.”
“So serious,” I muttered, trying to keep it playful, but my smile didn’t last. “Thanks again, Lawrence.”
His eyes met mine for a breath too long, like he was weighing something. Like he wasn’t sure whether he should say more.
But then, in the blink of an eye, he was gone.
No sound or flash.
Just… absence.
Like he’d never been there at all.
…
The flap to Dent’s tent hung loose, half-shadowed in the flicker of lantern light behind it. The rest of camp buzzed softly in the distance, low laughter, distant voices, the occasional clatter of something metallic. The kind of noise people made when they were setting up to celebrate something that still hurt.
I stood just outside like an idiot. One hand curled around the crinkled paper bundle, the other hovering awkwardly like it might knock. Cool night air filled my lungs as I opened my mouth for a greeting. Then, closed it without a word. I was at a loss, so eventually I gave up and walked in. Briskly dropping down to let my back rest against the cot's frame, cross-legged and close enough that his knees almost brushed my side. The paper-wrapped bundle still clutched in my palm.
Dent looked up as I slipped inside, warm light brushing across his cream tunic and brown pants. He was dressed nicer than usual. The same clothes, but done up with effort. Clean lines, sleeves rolled, Hair back, and shirt pressed. I’d been avoiding him all day, but he still grinned when he saw me. Lazy, lopsided, and with all the goofball energy I loved about him.
“By all means,” he said, voice tinging with sarcasm, “come in.”
I didn’t answer, just sighed, sinking into the floor like it might swallow the awkward tension.
“Guess you’re not done brooding?” Dent asked, grinning like an older brother with something smartass locked and loaded. “I’ll wait.”
I shot him a sideways glance, but didn’t bite. Let the silence stretch for a few seconds. Then: “Val and Esh managed to talk some sense into me.”
“They’re good at that,” he chuckled.
“Yeah,” I said reluctantly. “...you should be grateful. They stopped me from kicking the shit outta you.”
He laughed. A soft one, but not the belly-deep kind that shook his shoulders like it used to. “That’d be fun to watch.”
I eyed him, fighting a reluctant smile. “Don’t think I could?”
“Judging from that last punch?” He raised a brow. “I’m gonna say no.”
My eyes rolled. “Today would be different. I had a good night’s sleep after all.”
A goofy smirk creased his lips like he wanted to say something that’d make me mad.
“The hell you looking at?” I finally let a smile stretch.
“Oh, nothing.” He took a dramatic look around before settling his eyes back on me. “I just… heard it was a bit more than good.”
“Ugh. Gods.” My head leaned back. “Remind me to wring Val’s neck next time I see him.”
“Aw, come on, sis.” He said with an infuriatingly smug smile. “I gotta know. Was the…” he wiggled his eyebrows in the worst way imaginable, “as pale as the rest of him?”
“And just like that,” My face went deadpan. “I’m back to wanting to kick the shit outta you.”
“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, hands raised. “I’m just kidding…” then added, “mostly.”
“Naw, you know what?” I shot back, turning to face him. “What’s going on with you and Lyssa, hmmm?”
“Sphh.” He blinked like I’d caught him off guard. “Me and Lyssa?”
“Don’t play dumb,” I teased, eyes widening with a sassy smile. “I see how she looks at you.”
“Ah, well, you know… the women,” he leaned back in turn, fingers lacing behind his head just enough to be a smug bastard. “They just can’t help themselves around me.”
“Man.” My tongue clicked. “Stop being stupid. Are you into her or not?”
“Fine.” He hesitated. Just for a beat before his hands fell. “Yeah, I guess.”
“You guess?” I craned my neck to look at him.
“Sure, okay. Yeah… I like her.”
“Ahhh, I knew it!” I squealed, pushing his knee. “Y’all are so cuteee.”
He chuckled again, but something in his eyes felt reluctant. So I didn’t say anything. Just sat there with him and let the silence settle. Not in a bad way. Just… A kind of quiet that left too much space for thinking.
That's when I remembered the warm bundle, still in my hand. “I got you something,” I said, nudging him lightly with my elbow. “Call it a peace offering.”
His brow lifted as I held it out. He didn’t move at first, just looked at it like it might bite him, before finally taking it. The paper crinkled between his fingers as he peeled it open. “Is this what I think it is?” His eyes widened. Soft and unbelieving.
“Sure is.”
For a second, he didn’t speak. Just stared down at the apple pastry like it was some kind of relic. Still warm, barely, but flaky at the edges. “How’d you get this?” he asked, voice low.
“Was part of my deal with Lawrence… or something like that… I don’t know,” I said casually, though the way his eyes flicked up made me regret mentioning the deal in general.
He didn’t reply. Just nodded a little. Then took the first bite as I watched him chew. Slowly. Eyes closed, like he was trying to commit the taste to memory.
“It’s good…” he said, then followed up. “Gods, it’s… so good.” But there wasn’t any of the usual spark in it. No food moan. No exaggerated praise. Just a beat of quiet awe as if remembering what joy felt like.
I didn’t say anything, just kept watching as his bites got smaller. Slower. Like he didn’t want it to end. The corners of his mouth tried to smile, but didn’t quite make it. I wasn’t sure how or why, but it felt like something had shifted. As if the warmth from earlier, the teasing and grins, all started to thin around the edges. Finally, the tent went quiet, echoed only by the distant hum of camp life bleeding in from outside, but even that felt far away now.
Dent stared at the pastry in his hand; only one bite left. “Thank you.” He murmured, barely above a whisper.
I didn’t smile. Didn’t joke. Just watched him as his fingers lingered at the edge of the crust. And then… I saw it. The smallest tremble at the corner of his mouth.
His throat bobbed, like he was trying to swallow something that wouldn’t go down. Then blinked once. Twice. Tears welling up. Slowly, like he was trying to force them back down. Trying so hard, but they came anyway. His smile wobbled as he shook his head, voice cracking in a breath that sounded like it hurt. “I’m sorry…” he choked. “...I just.”
My whole body went still. Dent never cried. He was laughter and snark. The one who cracked jokes while everything burned, who held the line when the rest of us broke. And now… he was unraveling in front of me. “...Dent.”
“I’m sorry, Rem.” His free hand went to wipe reluctant tears from his eyes.
I froze, useless for a heartbeat too long, before the words slipped out. “No,” I whispered. “It’s okay.” Then shifted closer, awkward but steady, and looped my arms around his shoulders. Unsure, but he folded into me anyway, fragile in a way I’d never seen before, like something brittle giving out under its own weight. His forehead pressed against my shoulder. Breath hitching against my collar. “I’m trying, Rem…” His voice cracked, torn raw. “I swear I’m trying…”
Gods. The sound of it made me feel fragile, like a glass vase in front of a hammer. “I know,” I whispered back, pulling him in tighter. “I know.” And I did. Every minute he’d held himself together with bad jokes. Every deflection I’d let slide because it was easier to laugh with him than to ask what he was losing. Now it was spilling out. All of it.
“I just want more time,” he said, soft enough to split me in two. “I want to have fun and… crack jokes… do stupid shit.”
That dragged something out of me, a half-laugh, half-sob, ugly and real.
“...Eat pastries.” He breathed a shaky breath. “...Fall in love.”
My chest caved at the word, like the air itself had turned to stone, forcing a lump to climb high in my throat, thick enough I couldn’t answer. Tears welled when I blinked, spilling over despite every ounce of pride that wanted me to hold the line the way he always had. There weren’t any words that could fix this. None that could even help, so I only tightened my arms around him.
“I finally found something good, you know?” His hand clenched softly at my back as if to keep from floating away. “And I… Gods, Rem… I just… I don’t want to go… I don’t.”
The last bite of pastry sat in his other hand. Uneaten. Forgotten. Crumbling. He rested against me. Forehead to my collarbone, arms loose at his sides, like the strength to hold himself up had finally run dry.
“I know,” Is all I could say. There were no clever remarks. No last-ditch hope or ‘we’ll fix this’ lies. Just presence and warmth. Even if his skin felt cold and his chest hadn’t fully risen in minutes. I wouldn’t let go, not until he did.
…
The wagons were parked in a rough circle just outside camp, their wooden frames creaking faintly in the night air. Someone had dragged blankets and pillows up onto the flatbeds, turning each one into a makeshift lounge. Lanterns swung from poles and wheel spokes, spilling soft golden light across the dirtscape. A glow that could only be outshone by the burning stars above.
Various bits of food got passed around in dented bowls and chipped plates, mostly cured meats, dried and salted; anything unpreserved had long been used up by now. Nico managed to snag a string instrument and was plucking out a tune with the soldier who usually played at Milos. Every third note went sharp, but nobody cared. It was background more than music, the kind of sound that kept silence from sinking in too heavily.
Everyone wore the best set of clothes they had. For me, that meant the black dress, thanks to Eshlyn's uncanny ability to drag that kind of stuff wherever she went. Of course, I had my daggers loaded into their thigh holsters, more out of tradition than anything, but for once, no one donned armor. There was no shouting or training drills, just… us. Gathered on wagon beds lined across the crooked clearing, shoulders leaning against each other, voices low.
Kael’s name drifted between us like smoke, but not the heavy way I’d been dreading. Nobody talked about the tomb. About how he’d died or what he said. They focused on the cheerful stories instead, roasting him ceremonially. Speaking to the times he’d lectured Bram for putting her feet on the table, or when Nico had tried to sneak liquor into Kael’s drink after telling him to loosen up. Lyssa mimicked his stiff posture and pristine voice so well I almost laughed myself sick. I didn’t talk much at first. Didn’t need to. Everyone else was filling the space, laughter breaking like sparks over the circle.
Then Sierra showed up with a large unopened bottle of liquor clutched in one hand, movements showy enough to gather everyone's attention as she marched into the center, unscrewing the cap like she owned the place. “To Kael,” she said, voice raised and carrying before she took a long swig, then tipped it over, ceremonially pouring a splash into the dirt. “The rich motherfucker who never let me do anything fun without a ten-point safety briefing.”
A laugh spread among the group. Even Bram choked one out as everyone raised a glass in salute. “Here, here.”
Lyssa mozied up beside her, grabbing the bottle and tipping it just enough to spill another mouthful into the dirt before drinking. “We’re gonna miss you, you stiff bastard.” She coughed, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, then passed the bottle along.
Nico stopped plucking at the guitar long enough to raise it high when it came their way. “To the bravest man I’ve ever met and all the times he's kept me out of trouble, willful or not.” That earned a chorus of groans and a chuckle or two as Nico bowed dramatically, taking a swig and pouring another swallow out.
The bottle kept moving. Tovin offered something solemn, Eshlyn something soft and rehearsed. Val’s smile stretched smug when the bottle came his way. “Let’s not forget Kael’s greatest achievement,” he said, pausing just long enough to hook everyone’s attention. “Saving Bram from a beatdown.”
“Oh, please.” Bram groaned, shaking her head, though her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile.
Val cut her off, raising the bottle with mock ceremony. “To Kael, the protector of idiots.”
“Yeah, okay.” Bram shot back, only half-joking. “Better start sleeping with one eye open, pretty boy.”
The circle cracked into laughter, the sound ringing warm under the lantern light. And all the while, Dent sat beside me on the wagon bed, shoulders relaxed, one knee propped up, his hand loosely tangled with Lyssa’s. He didn’t say much either. Just smiled in that lazy way of his, like this was exactly where he wanted to be.
He looked happy, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with him. His posture was calm, considering the earlier confession, but it was as if I could see something lingering behind his eyes. Something he would never say. Whatever it might have been, I chose to ignore it as the bottle kept circling. Edging closer, catching gleams of firelight as it passed from hand to hand. When it finally came to me, I had no idea what to say.
Everyone turned. Waiting as I cleared my throat, then stood to buy time. “I’ll be honest… Kael and I didn’t agree on much.”
That earned a few chuckles, the kind people made when they weren’t sure if you were about to joke or get serious. “He was straitlaced,” I went on, lifting my chin. “And I’ve always been… well.” My tongue wanted to say a street rat, but I swallowed it down before continuing. “Less formal.”
“Aint that the truth,” Nico called out, earning a low laugh from everyone.
“When I first heard he’d named your group after his family, I wanted to laugh. Thought it was arrogant.” I let that hang for a beat as my fingers traced the curve of the bottle, cool and slick. “...But I get it now. You weren’t just some squad to him. You were family… I guess we all were, in some way.” My voice wavered, but I forced it steady as I raised the bottle. “So here’s to you, Kael.” My gaze drifted to Dent, Esh, Val, and Selene. “To family.” Then to everyone. “…And all of you. The Vanguard Fangs.”
A moment passed before I tipped the bottle, spilling a mouthful into the dirt, then drank deep. The liquor tasted sweet, but burned all the way down, hot enough to sting behind my eyes.
When I lowered it, Dent’s hand brushed against mine, a soft squeeze to lower me down, before slipping back into its tangle with Lyssa’s. I handed the bottle back to Sierra and sank into the wagon bed, letting the laughter fade into the night around us. Above, the lanterns dimmed and the stars shone, sharp and steady.
…
I wasn’t sure when I drifted off. One breath, I was watching the stars burn holes through the dark, Eshlyn’s hand curled around mine, Val’s shoulder warm beneath my cheek. Nyla curled off to the side. Next, the world was shaking me awake. Hands on my arms. A voice, sharp and breaking.
“Remy! Wake up!”
I blinked hard, dragging myself out of the haze into the dead of night. Only us three, and Nyla, remained in the blanketed wagon. Lyssa shook me hard. Leaning over us with a jolt of frantic awareness. Hair tangled around her face, tunic half-buttoned, feet bare, as if she’d run out in a hurry. Her chest heaved, panic written in every breath.
“What?” I slurred despite the adrenaline. “What’s going on?”
Val swore under his breath, rubbing at his eyes as Eshlyn stirred beside me, pushing up onto her elbows. “What happened?” she started, but Lyssa cut her off. “It’s Dent. He’s gone.”
The words snapped through me like a whip as my stomach dropped, heavy and cold. “What do you mean, gone?”
Lyssa’s hands shook as she paced. “He wasn’t there when I woke up and… The tomb guards are unconscious.”
“Holy shit.” Val rushed to his feet. “You’re serious?”
I jolted up beside him, bare feet striking the cold dirt. “And the stone?”
She pressed a hand against her mouth, trembling. “It’s rolled open.” She swallowed, eyes wide and wet. “Rem, I think he went in by himself.”
FUCK!