Floor 2: Chapter One - Walls

Dent's eyes flickered from black to brown to black to brown, staring at me like I put the knife in his chest. "You did this," he whispered, almost gentle, like stating fact, before his voice grated into gravel: "You killed me!"

"No," I choked on the words. "No, I didn't mean…"

But the scroll was burning through my palm, silver light searing through fabric and flesh. I could feel it reaching for him, feel the chains wrapping around his soul like vines ripped from the earth.

He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out. Just terrible, absolute silence, like death itself had stolen his voice.

"No wait!" I cried as the soulstone appeared in my hand. I tried to drop it. Tried to let it go, but my fingers wouldn’t open. They locked around the stone like rigor mortis, like my body's decided this is the only thing worth holding onto.

"Let me go," Dent cried, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere. "Let me go!"

I’m trying. Gods, I’m trying!

Death spread around me. The river ran black. The sky cracked like broken glass. Everything I touch turned to rot and ruin, and I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t control it, couldn’t…

The world tilted as Val appeared. Expression bristling with disgust. Then Eshlyn. Lyssa. Kael. Gregory. Xolob. All of them circling, staring like I'd done something unforgivable.

‘I didn't mean to!’ I tried to say, but my voice betrayed me. "It's my fault!"

"You killed him." They spoke in unison, pressing in until their hands were pulling me down. I struggle, but sink into the earth. The sky turns black. Chains wrap my shoulders, my feet. I tried to scream, but nothing came out. Nothing on my tongue but ash and copper.

I look down.

It’s not me. It's Dent. My brother. Who I fought for… Who I failed.

"Someone, please help me!"

 

---

 

…

I woke gasping.

Not a jolt or a scream. Just ragged breaths for a few seconds before the numbness crept back in, and it stopped mattering. The room was dark, the dream fading like smoke, leaving nothing but the familiar weight around my collar.

A dream… Of course. He's right here on my neck. Trapped in a prison of my own design.

Two months on Floor Two. Two months since Dent died. Two months of nightmares, running until I couldn't think, and doing a terrible job pretending I was fine.

My heart was pounding, but distant now. Like it belonged to someone else. Sweat cooled on my skin, the sheets clammy beneath me. Then a soft knock came at the door. "Rem..." Lyssa's voice. "...You okay?"

Right on cue.

I used to cry after the nightmares. Used to wake up choking on sobs, Nyla licking my face, Val, Lyssa, or Eshlyn rushing in before I'd even fully surfaced. Used to feel it, the grief, the guilt, the crushing weight of what I'd done.

Now there's nothing. Just a throat panicked for breath before the hollow stillness can scoop out my insides and leave me as a shell. "I'm fine," I rasped.

The old me would have appreciated it. Thanked her just for being there, but not now. Not anymore. I took a shallow breath, head in my hands. Her presence waited, then moved on down the hall.

The soulstone pulsed once against my collarbone. Barely perceptible. A reminder that he was still here. Still waiting.

Still trapped.

I let my eyes drift across the night-shrouded room, empty of noise but full of quiet weight. My room was simpler than the rest. A tall wardrobe that held my armor, the black dress, newly sewn back together because I couldn’t bring myself to replace it, and a handful of fey-styled outfits I'd been given. A single nightstand. An adjoining washroom etched with glowing runework, and a narrow rocking chair by the window, always half-turned to face the view, thanks to Nyla. She adamantly claimed the spot for herself.

It matched the rest of the house, less a lavish condo, more a highborn's home. Two stories of vine-laced stone, its fey-touched architecture winding into soft curves and blooming ironwork. A step down from the opulence Eshlyn preferred, but it had space for all of us, and sat directly across from the grand library. Probably why she chose it.

Just then, an aether-script letter popped up next to me. Blue hue, silver lettering on glass. Impeccable timing.

"Don't forget about tonight."
- L

Right… I stared at it for a moment but didn't reply.

Nyla pranced from the chair to my lap. Dawn was probably an hour away, maybe two. I could have laid back down, but sleep meant nightmares, so I sat up slowly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed to stand. Nyla hopped down then, tracking me with her eyes. The dark wood floor lay cold under my feet. I noticed it the way you notice background noise, present but unimportant.

She stared up at me as my eyes drifted to the soulstone again. I could almost see the faint silver glow in the dim pre-dawn light. Could almost convince myself he was okay in there, still Dent, the lovable goofball, just waiting for me to figure out how to free him safely.

But the nightmare lingered at the edges. His voice, hollow and distant: Let me go.

I couldn't. And now it was too late.

Lawrence was explicit about what it meant to be peacefully dissolved. Releasing him without a new vessel would have his soul disappear completely. No joining the collective aether. No coming back like Selene. No afterlife. Not eventually. Not ever. Just gone.

And so I kept it strung around my neck.

My wardrobe was a portal through time. The armor I hadn't worn since ascension. The black dress I used to love. Old trousers and bland shirts.

The fey were an eccentric group. Loved bright colors and skimpy linens. It was all crop tops and frilly skirts with them. They dressed like every piece of clothing reflected themselves, so going out in bland colors or black, keeping my head down, and hood up wasn't the same here. It always made me stick out like a sore thumb. But why should I care?

I grabbed my cloak, threw the old clothes on, and went for the door. "C'mon, Nyla."

She followed as we descended the central staircase. A single piece of hardwood, carved out of a massive tree trunk as if the house was built around it. The main living space was below. A stone hearth. Purple fabric sofas with gold trim lay dim in the low light of the overhead glowstones.

Lyssa was already in the kitchen, preparing breakfast in a bright green top that fit in well here. A mug of steaming brown liquid waited for me on the grey marble bartop. “Care for breakfast?”

"Bit early," I muttered, taking a seat at the bar without meeting her eyes. I never said so, but I was grateful for her sticking around.

"Yeah, but I couldn't sleep anyway," Lyssa said, setting out a plate of freshly cooked sausages, scrambled eggs, herbs, and green leaf.

I knew it was a lie. She would always get out of bed if I did. Didn't matter what time of night. She'd fix me something. Brew a pot of coffee. Cook. Just be there if I wanted to talk.

I never did.

"You should try," I said, sliding a sausage over to Nyla. She scampered away as if stealing a coin purse.

"Look who's talking," she smirked, taking a bite of the eggs before motioning for me to do the same. Even if her smiles were all teeth, at least they were present. That was more than I could say for myself.

"I'm not hungry."

"Just eat something, so you don't pass out on our morning jog."

We'd been through this before. So I only paused a moment before conceding. For what it’s worth, it looked beautiful. Perfectly well-made, even if it tasted like ash on my tongue.

Thank you.

"Happy?" I muttered through bites.

"Mhmm." She took another.

"Look at you two, so eager to start the day," Val chimed in from behind me. 

He was also quick to adopt the fey style, mixing it with his own darker aesthetic. A black crop top, lightly revealing his chiseled stomach, and ice blue shorts to match.

"Morning, Val," Lyssa said, trying for a practiced smile.

“Y’all sleep well enough?” He muttered, taking a seat next to me at the bar.

“For the most part,” Lyssa replied. “You?”

“Yeah… You know.” He stared off, leaving the truth unsaid.

“Yeah...” She did the same. Then tried for something brighter. “Eat up. I made enough for everyone.”

“Thanks, Lyssa. We appreciate it.” I could feel his gaze even if I didn’t meet it. He remained silent for a second, eying me softly as he scarfed down a few sausages. Then donned a weak grin. "Talking my ear off, Rem."

"Mine too," Lyssa chimed in with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

“Suppose you were always feral in the morning.” He tried again. “Isn’t that right?”

They were trying so hard. I could see it. The way they leaned in slightly, waiting for me to crack a joke, to be myself again. The old me would've fired back. Made some crack about Val's outfit. Thanked Lyssa or offered to help next time. Something.

I only shrugged as the silence hung taut for a beat.

"Gonna join us for some sparring today?" Val finally asked what I knew he was thinking.

"I got some... stuff to do," I lied.

"Figured." His gaze trailed down. Couldn’t remember the last time I willingly looked him in the eye. Not since that day. "Well... you know you're always welcome, if you change your mind." He muttered, taking a few big bites before turning away from the counter.

"See ya there, Val," Lyssa muttered, but he was already heading upstairs to grab his gear. Then she turned to me, grabbing a bundle she'd set aside. "Make sure Eshlyn gets this before we head out, will ya?"

Of course I will.

I didn't respond, just nodded, taking the mug and the bundle from the counter.

"See ya in a bit," she said from over my shoulder.

 

---

 

…

I found Eshlyn tucked away in her personal library adjacent to the main room. Morning light hadn’t yet peered through the tall, narrow windows. For now, the only illumination came from a single crystal that had dimmed to a faint glow in the center of the room.

I paused in the doorway, taking in the scene. Stacked bookshelves lined the sides of the room. Eshlyn lay face down and fast asleep at her desk. A large wooden workspace that was centered along the long windows of the far wall. It was buried under open tomes, loose parchment covered in her tight, meticulous handwriting, and diagrams I couldn’t hope to understand. 

One open notebook lay directly beneath her folded arms, so I took a look at it. She was searching for a particular title. The Severance of Spirit and Form: A Forbidden Practice. Crossing off sections of the library across the street. Surely she didn’t expect to find something like that at a sanctioned library. She’s smarter than that, so what was she doing?

Then I noticed the others. Four thick tomes were stacked beside her inkwell. All blank and completely titleless.

Hmm.

I moved closer, eyes drifting across the scattered research. Diagrams and circles. Notes about aetheric resonance and spiritual anchoring. A sketch of what looked like the soulstone's internal structure.

Her breathing was slow and steady, the exhausted kind that came from pushing too hard for too long. Dark circles shadowed her eyes. Her hair had come loose and fallen across her face. 

She was clearly struggling.

Researching illegal magic, running herself into the ground, all to find a way to work around Lawrence's warning. And what could I do but watch her kill herself trying to undo my greatest mistake?

I knew I should force her to get some real sleep.

Wake her gently. Pull her into a hug. Tell her that Dent would want her to rest.

My feet didn't move.

I only stood there like I was carved from the same stone as the walls, mug cooling in one hand, Lyssa's bundle in the other, and felt absolutely nothing. No warmth or guilt. Just the distant observation that Eshlyn looked like shit, and I couldn't bring myself to care the way I should.

Or maybe I did. And that was the worst part. That I still cared… somewhere behind the veil, but I couldn't reach it. Like the moment I did it’d consume me completely… Perhaps it already had, and this was all that was left.

Finally, I set the mug down on the only clear corner of her desk. Placed the bundle beside it. She didn't stir. Didn't even shift in her sleep as I sank down against the far wall, pulling my knees up and resting my arms across them.

The floor was cold. The room quiet. It smelled like old parchment, ink, and the faint herbal scent of whatever tea Eshlyn had been drinking before she passed out. I sat there in silence. Alone in each other's company. Her sleeping, me barely existing.

Nyla eventually hopped into my lap, curling into a ball.

At one point, Eshlyn shifted slightly, her hand twitching across the open page. For a second, I thought she'd wake up, and I'd have to explain why I was sitting on her floor like some kind of haunted furniture. But she just exhaled slowly and settled deeper into sleep.

Just get up. Carry her to bed. Do something.

I stayed put.

Nyla chirped softly, adjusting her position, before settling back down.

The room grew lighter as dawn crept closer. Val had left some time ago. Soon, Lyssa would come find me, ask if I’m ready. Soon I'd have to stand, go through the motions, pretend today was any different from yesterday.

But not yet. For now, I just sat. Simmering in the desperation I could see, but not feel. Watching the distance between us grow wider with every breath of silence.

And still, I didn’t move.

 

---

 

…

We left through the back garden just as the sky began to bleed lavender over the city.

The fey woke early, loud and bright. The air was some mix of honeysuckle and rain, always changing, never dull. Music lined the streets, all rhythm and tone without words. Market stalls unfurled themselves like flowers stretching toward the sun, blossoms blooming from their awnings in bursts of complexion. I saw it all. Knew it was there, but it met my senses the way the food did. Lifeless.

A morning jog was the only routine I hadn't let die with him. Maybe because Nyla still liked to curl around my shoulders, tail flicking in rhythm. Maybe because Dent got me into the habit, and he was still sitting around my neck.

Either way, I still ran every morning with Lyssa. But I didn't speak. Not to her. Not to anyone. I just ran until color dulled, faces blurred, and the burn in my lungs drowned out everything else.

Lyssa was slower. Always struggling to keep up but never letting herself fall behind. Not completely. I knew she was there, but never waited. I think part of me still wanted her to stop trying.

We jogged down the winding path toward the riverfront, then followed it north. A thick, slow-moving current that cut the city in two. I heard someone say the river could whisper if you listened long enough, echoing with things you'd forgotten or tried to. I didn't know if that was true. I ran along it every morning, never facing it fully. Just jogged north on our way to the outer wall.

Past floral stalls and ivy-covered structures too numerous to count. Pixies and fairies of various sizes fluttered overhead, drifting between homes and down narrow streets. The passages weren’t wide enough for wagons. Unlike Floor One, only a few tall buildings rose here, all concentrated at the city's edges.

The river curved as we followed it, passing under archways carved with warding fey script that shimmered as we moved beneath them. I had no idea what they were for. Didn't ask. Each step just brought us closer to the border, the edge where civilization met the chaos of the Feywilds.

Eventually, the stalls thinned. First to homes on the outskirts, then to massive twisted tree-like structures lining the outer walls. The path wound until it led us to the old bridge at the city's edge, a sweeping arc of moss-covered stone crossing the river to the other side. Nyla stayed on my shoulders the whole time. My lungs burned. My legs ached. I ran as hard as I could. Always did.

Until finally we stopped just before the path split to go over the bridge or down into the expansive park where Val would be waiting. The city wall loomed in the distance, a towering boundary, shifting and impenetrable.

Lyssa caught up a couple of seconds later, stopping to lean against the intricate iron railing between us and the river. Breath coming in ragged heaves. "Good..." She placed her hands on her hips, struggling for air. "...God damn..."

I thought about saying something, anything, but the words never came. I only waited, pacing back and forth, hands laced behind my head.

“I was right behind ya that time.” She muttered, still catching her breath.

It’s not like we were racing… Or were we? Maybe she was.

She leaned on the railing again, breath finally slowing. “Maybe you could come watch today? I know Val would like that.”

I shook my head, not even trying for an excuse.

She nodded, then moved in to scratch behind Nyla’s ears."Maybe tomorrow then…”

A silence stretched as we gained our composure. Eventually, Lyssa stretched her arms behind her back. “See ya at the house, Rem."

I nodded, and she turned toward the path under the bridge. My mind went to Dent, cracking the joke he loved. Go get smacked around by sword boy.

“Lyssa.” I managed.

“Yes?” She turned, eyes widening.

My gaze trailed down. “Good job today.”

For a moment, her cracked smile looked almost genuine. “You too.” She hesitated like she wanted to say something, but decided against it. "Be safe, Rem."

I nodded, finally turning toward the outer wall.

 

---

 

…

The tree-like structures that lined the outer wall weren't really trees, not anymore. Much like the wall, they'd been coaxed into something else long ago. The trunks spiraled upward like twisted spires, forming natural handholds that made climbing almost too easy. Though most of the fey had wings of some sort, so I doubt that was its intended purpose.

I'd been doing this every morning since we arrived. Since staying home became unbearable, and being around people who loved me felt like drowning.

Nyla scampered ahead, her claws finding purchase in the bark with practiced ease. I followed, hand over hand, until the city spread out below us and the top of the outer wall was barely a branch away.

From up here, I could see over it and into the Feywilds proper.

It was beautiful in the way a storm is beautiful. Colors I’d never seen before bled into each other in ways that shouldn't be possible. I'd seen a hilltop with what looked like a waterfall flowing upward yesterday. Today it was gone, replaced by a flat patch of snow that didn’t fit the rest of the landscape. I’d looked over this same wall, day by day, and never saw the same thing. Never witnessed it shift either.

But the wall kept it all out. Living wood woven with wards so old I doubt anyone remembered who made them. On this side: civilization. On that side: unfiltered chaos. Some parts were shared. A cosmic law or karma that enforced order in a way that only a local could fully understand… but it was obeyed, had to be. Promises kept. Agreements upheld. An ancient structure to the havoc.

I pulled myself onto a wide branch that jutted out toward the wall and sat, one leg dangling. Nyla pranced out to the narrower part of the branch before turning around and curling into my lap.

The soulstone sat warm against my collarbone. I pulled it out from under my shirt, holding it up to catch the light. Still silver. Still glowing faintly.

"Morning," I said quietly. Sometimes it felt weird to talk to it. I wasn't sure if he could hear me, not really, but sometimes the glow shifted when I spoke, and I wanted to believe that meant something, so I kept doing it anyway. "Made it through another jog... Lyssa’s great.”

Or pretends to be. 

“…Val too. They tried getting me to spar again. Of course, I said no. Eshlyn slept in her study. Like usual. And I’m… still here… So that’s… Good… "

I thought for a moment, as if it were a question. Then the stones glow brightened. Only a moment before fading.

Hmm?

“Blink twice if you can hear me.” Almost a joke.

It didn’t.

“Right…” A sorrowful smile tugged at my lips. "I’m going to see Lawrence tonight. Part of that deal I made back on Floor One, the dinner I agreed to when he cashed in his favor… Been a while, but I guess he’s been giving me time to…” I paused, shaking my head. “I don’t know. Recover or something.” Then let out a sigh. "I know you didn’t really like him before, but he’s been nice… Helpful… Probably the best chance I have at freeing you without… You know… "

A branch shook from below. Footsteps.

My hand went to my belt before I remembered I didn't carry daggers anymore. Nyla hopped off as I spun, nearly losing my balance, to find…

Nico.

I froze.

Their blond hair was longer than I remembered, pulled back in a loose bun. They wore a deep green cloak with enough fey ornaments not to look out of place here. "Whoa, easy!" Their hands went up, grinning like they'd just pulled off the world's best prank. "Honest to gods, I thought I was seeing a ghost."

"Nico?" The word came out confused.

"...Because the Remy I know is very dead," they continued, still grinning.

"What are you… How did you… " I stared, trying to process. Nico. Here. On Floor Two. They found me. Which meant... "You ascended."

Right. Nico ascended. Of course they did. They were capable. Why wouldn't they?

"Short while after you disappeared, yeah." They moved closer, settling onto a branch with practiced ease. "Saw you running by the river earlier. I almost fell on my ass when Lyssa passed by a second later."

"So you followed me." Not a question.

"Figured you'd notice." They pulled an apple from their bag, but didn’t bite into it. "Must be losing your edge."

The shock was fading now, settling back into the familiar apathy. Despite everything, something in my chest almost, almost, felt like it might laugh. "How long have you been… spying on me?"

"Long enough to hear you talking to your necklace." Their expression shifted as their eyes dropped to the soulstone, still dangling from my neck. "What is that, anyway?"

"Don't worry about it." I tucked it back under my shirt. “What do you want?”

"Relax." They held up their hands. "I saw a dead girl sprinting through town. Just wanted to talk."

I let out a breath. "Sorry… I wasn't expecting anyone to be up here."

“Well, if I’m being honest.” They paused, eyes drifting to the landscape beyond the wall. "I never thought I’d see you again and… I want to say I'm sorry. " They finally said, soft as a prayer. 

“Don’t be,” I added too quickly.

“No… I should've helped. When you were leaving for the tomb. I should've done something…" They stopped. Started again. “... And when you didn't resurface, we all just assumed…" 

"It wouldn’t have made a difference." I interrupted, unsure if I was being honest or just wanted them to stop talking.

"Maybe not. But I should have tried." They picked at the bark by their leg. "For what it's worth, I think the others will be very happy to hear you're alive. That Lyssa’s alive. I think it’s been eating at all of us. Even Bram, not that she'd ever admit it."

"Y'all stayed together then?" I said, changing the subject if only a little.

"Sure did, yeah." Nico snickered. "The Queen gave us all awards for 'exemplary service' or whatever. Ceremony, medals, the works. It felt like a joke. At least to me it did.”

"Well…” I said, letting my voice turn sharp and bitter. “...You completed your mission."

"...Yeah… I guess so." They paused for a long beat, eyes drifting. “Did you?”

“No.” The numbness in my chest cracked ever so slightly. Threatening to pour everything out with it, but I held it back. “We didn’t.”

“...I’m sorry…”

“Don’t mention it.” Seriously don’t

An awkward silence stretched.

"So." Nico shifted to face me more fully, obviously trying for something lighter. "Catch me up. What happened? How'd you get out?"

I stared at the wall for a moment. The Feywilds beyond it, colors bleeding into colors. "Long story."

"I've got time."

"I don't." Not a lie. I didn't have the energy to relive it. So I just asked, "How were your trials?"

Nico studied me for a beat, clearly debating whether to push or not. "Easy peasy.” They launched into it, seemingly happy to have a story to tell. "The first trial was typical Fey nonsense, wordplay, riddles, trying to trick us into giving up our names or making promises we couldn't keep. I obviously had an advantage, being born here and all."

"Eshlyn handled it like a lawyer," I chimed in, grateful for a lighter topic.

"She would." Nicos' smile stretched. "The next part was a little trickier for us. The illusions. Separating real from fake. We walked through this forest where nothing was what it seemed. Trees that weren't trees, paths that led nowhere, that kind of thing." They shrugged. "I’ve been through the feywilds once or twice, and honestly? After the tomb? It felt like a breath of fresh air."

“Same," I admitted. "Ours was…" I stopped, realizing I'd been about to launch into a story I didn’t care to tell. "...Very similar… But we rushed into it. I was still injured. Eshlyn handled the fey speak. I got the illusions.”

“...No problems."

A hollow accomplishment.

"Yeah, I think the floor guardian here is more inviting than most, just wants to prepare you so you don't promise your firstborn for a pint of ale."

“Right,” I said, voice dry. "Cosmic law's a bitch."

"Don't let them hear you say that." Nico smirked. "They'll smite you."

"Will they really?" I questioned, almost genuine.

"Nah, just don't break contracts and shit. You know how it is."

I thought about the soulstone. "Right."

We fell into easy silence. The weightless kind that didn't demand anything.

"How's Lyssa?" Nico asked eventually.

"She's..." Honestly, I wasn't sure how she was doing underneath it all. Or how much I should be saying to an old squad member of hers. "Good." I paused a beat. "...Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Gotta be careful with that word around here."

"Yeah, I know. I just... don't want the others to know I'm here yet."

"They will soon. Even if I don't tell them, you're not exactly subtle, running through the city every morning."

"I know." I pulled my knees up, resting my chin on them. "I'm just not ready for… all of that."

"Because they'll ask questions?"

"Can you please just keep your mouth shut?" I finally looked at them, voice growing colder.

"Remy?" They met my eyes. "They’ll have questions, but they'll also be happy that you made it. Happy you're here. Happy to see you. If you can look past all that other nonsense, then so can we."

"I know. I'm just... busy right now." A lie.

"Sure, busy." They grinned, knowing. "Well, I'm great at keeping secrets. I won’t tell anyone you’re here, on one condition."

"What's that?"

"You don't run off again without saying goodbye." Their expression shifted, playful edge dropping completely. "I mean it. Whatever's going on, whatever you're dealing with, just don't disappear, okay?"

"Yeah, sure," I said, wanting to end the conversation. To stop talking about the Fangs, the questions, everyone, and everything that happened.

Nico extended their hand immediately. "Deal?"

I took it without thinking, and the pain hit like lightning, sharp and searing, burning from my wrist up my arm. I yanked back instinctively, but it was already fading, leaving only a strange warmth that settled deep into my bones.

"What the fuck… " I stared at my wrist, then at Nico. "Did you… You tricked me."

"You said yes. You shook on it. What’s the trick?" They shrugged, but there was something careful in their expression now. "Were you intending on going back on your word?”

"Well… No." Another lie.

"Great," They smiled, but it didn't quite reach their eyes. "I won't tell the others you're here. And you won't disappear without saying goodbye. Simple."

Simple. Right.

I flexed my hand, feeling that strange warmth like invisible ink etched into my bones. "And if, hypothetically, I don’t hold up my end?"

"Then you'll find out how cosmic law really works." They stood, brushing bark off their cloak. 

I'd just made my first deal with a fey, and I'd done it the way I did everything lately, without thinking, without caring, without considering the consequences until they were already burning into my skin.

"You could have warned me," I said quietly.

"Warned you that you should be honest when making a promise?"

Damn… Got me there…

Nico watched me for a moment longer, then began stepping down. "Well, it’s been a pleasure, Remy." They paused. "See you around. Maybe avoid any more binding agreements before lunch."

"No promises." The words came out dry and automatic.

"Well, at least you're learning." They started climbing down, movements quick and sure.

I sat there after they'd gone, staring at my wrist. The warmth had faded completely now, but I could still feel it if I focused.

Another choice made without thinking. Another consequence I'd have to live with. It may not matter, though. I tried to convince myself. There is a lot of ambiguity in ‘not disappearing without saying goodbye.’

Nyla chirped softly, hopping back into my lap.

"Yeah," I muttered, scratching behind her ears. "I know. I'm an idiot."

She purred in agreement.

 

---

 

…

I stared at my wardrobe like it might offer answers it had never provided before.

The black dress hung on the left. Scarred where the hem had singed, fabric torn and rewoven by some fey seamstress with thread that probably cost more than the original dress. It looked almost like it used to. Almost. But the repairs were visible if you knew where to look.

I pulled it off the hanger, held it against myself. The mirror showed someone I used to know. One who never left their weapons at home. Who fought and failed with everything they had. That girl was gone, and a part of me didn’t feel like wearing her uniform.

I laid the dress on the bed. Sat down beside it. My eyes drifted to the holstered daggers on the nightstand, the ones that used to make any dress feel like armor. But I didn't reach for them. Just buried my head in my hands for a long moment.

A soft knock interrupted. "Package came for you, Rem."

I opened the door to find Lyssa, standing there with a pristine black box, wrapped in expensive ribbon. I was still in my small clothes, but we were way past modesty.

“That’s… for me?”

"Courier just dropped it off," she said, studying my face with that careful expression she'd been wearing for weeks. Then nodded towards the room. "May I come in?"

I turned back towards the bed but left the door open.

She followed, laying the box down to untie the ribbon and lift the lid.

Inside was a new dress. The fabric was black as night, with silk that moved like water through my hands. Perfectly my style, if I had a style besides picking patterns dark enough to drink in the light.

“Damn.” Lyssa motioned. “It’s…”

Beautiful.

Finally, there was a note tucked inside, small and handwritten:

For tonight. No obligation, of course.
 - L

Of course.

Lyssa's eyes drifted from the note to me. "You sure this isn't a date?"

"It's a… professional dinner with his colleagues," I said, but I didn't fully believe it.

"Mmhmm." Her tone said everything her face didn't. "And the custom-tailored dress?"

"Very… professional."

"uh-huh." She scratched behind Nyla's ears. "Want me to do your hair? Or I could get Eshlyn to..."

"No,” I said quickly then paused. “I’m leaving it down, just… casual."

She raised an eyebrow. "For your casual, definitely-not-a-date, professional dinner."

Truthfully, I didn’t know what to expect. Some part didn’t know what the hell I was even doing, so I only shook my head. "...Exactly…"

“Mhmm. Well… ” She tilted her chin, grinning before patting Nyla and heading back towards the door. “...I’ll leave you to it then.”

I nodded, and the door closed softly.

Two dresses stared back at me. Old and new. Scarred and pristine.

I figured I should wear the old one, but looking at it made my chest tight in ways I couldn't name. Made me think of Dent leading me through festival streets or drinking at Milos. Made me remember the easy nights with Val or Eshlyn.

Some part of me didn’t want to give Lawrence the satisfaction, but the new dress had none of that.

So I put it on.

The fabric settled against my skin like it had been made for me. Fitted at the waist, high slit for movement, neckline slightly lower than I'd usually choose, and of course, it fit perfectly.

I checked the mirror. The girl staring back looked composed. Elegant and in control. Like someone who hadn't spent the last few months barely holding herself together.

It was a lie… But maybe a convincing one.

Nyla let out a soft chirp. Concern or approval, I couldn't tell.

"It's just a dress," I told her. Told myself. "Doesn't mean anything.”

She tilted her head at me.

"Don’t give me that look.”

It's just dinner. Just honoring a deal I made back when I still had hope.

I stared until I heard movement downstairs. Lyssa’s voice, then Val’s, saying something I couldn't make out, and finally.

Lawrence… Right on time.

I took a breath. One last look at my reflection before heading for the door. "C'mon, Nyla.”

She hopped up on my shoulders, tail flicking in that way that meant she was giving me attitude, but would come along anyway.

 

---

 

…

I descended the stairs in silence, each step deliberate. The new dress felt like warm waves against my skin, fabric absorbing the faint light from the overhead lights. I made it halfway down the stairs before stopping. Lyssa and Val were waiting in the main room below.

Lyssa looked up first from where she sat near the hearth. "Wow," she said softly, rising to her feet. "Rem."

Val turned from where he'd been leaning against the wooden wall, arms crossed. His gaze landed on me and didn't move. "Damn," he breathed. "You're..."

My gaze dropped to the floor.

"...Beautiful," Val finished quietly.

A silence stretched, heavy and suffocating. I could feel their eyes on me. Waiting. Hoping for something I couldn’t give. Formless words gripped my throat like glue. I could hardly look at them.

Lyssa glanced between us, clearly wanting to lighten the moment. "The dress looks incredible on you, Rem," she said, voice a touch too bright. "Val's smitten."

Val stepped in, taking my hand to lead me the rest of the way. "Yeah, the dress is nice too, I guess." His gaze dropped to my hips, jaw tightening when he noticed the lack of blades. "Hold on." He crossed to the nearby chair in three long strides, picking up something wrapped in dark leather. When he turned back, I saw what it was.

A thigh harness. New, by the looks of it. Pristine daggers already sheathed in the holsters.

His movements were careful when he stepped back in. Measured, like I might bolt. "May I?"

My throat fought against sound, so I nodded.

He crouched slightly, hands sliding the leather harness up my leg with agonizing tenderness. His calloused fingers brushed against my skin as he adjusted the straps high on my thigh, tightening till they were secure. His grip lingered slightly longer than necessary. Long enough that the warmth of his touch threatened to crack the numbness keeping me whole. When he stood, he was close. Close enough for me to smell the faint scent of smoke and cologne lingering in the inches between us.

I looked away, but his hand came up, cupping my face with a gentleness that made my chest ache. His thumb brushed my cheek as he tilted my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. I could see the flecks of grey in his icy blue eyes.

"Remember..." His voice was quiet but firm, though he struggled for the right words. "...Just..." His thumb traced along my cheekbone. "Don't let this prick get in your head. Alright?"

I nodded, trying for something to say, but my throat had long since closed up.

He held my gaze, waiting. I could see it in his expression, the desperate hope that I'd roll my eyes, hug, kiss, or give him attitude the way I used to. That I'd offer him even the smallest piece of the person he longed for.

I couldn’t.

Something sorrowful flickered across his face as he stepped back with a slow reluctance. Like it physically hurt to put distance between us.

My chest tightened painfully. I wanted to say something, anything. Tell him I was still here, still cared. But the words died long before they could form. They always did when he got close. As if they were the dam holding everything back, and if it fell, I'd drown in the flood.

"He's just being protective," Lyssa whispered, placing a warm hand on my back. Her touch was light, careful not to push. "Let's not keep Lawrence waiting."

I let her guide me toward the library.

Lawrence stood by Eshlyn's desk, one hand resting casually on an open tome. He wore dark elegance tonight, a black overcoat over a grey shirt left unbuttoned just enough to reveal a silver chain against pale skin. His white hair was pulled into a loose knot, a few strands escaping to frame his face.

He looked up, smiling as we entered. That same practiced, political smile I'd seen him use so many times before. "There you are," he said, voice smooth as silk. "I must say, you look positively exquisite this evening."

"She knows," Val said from behind me, voice dry with bite.

I didn’t reply, just stood there, Nyla shifting her weight on my shoulder.

Lawrence's eyes swept over me slowly, "The dress suits you." Then turned back to Eshlyn, who sat hunched over her desk. "The text you mentioned, I believe I can procure a copy, but you should rest first. A quality read will be impossible if you're too exhausted to retain the information."

Eshlyn looked up, surprise flickering across her fatigued features. Gratitude warred with suspicion. "That would... Thank you. Truly."

"Of course." Lawrence straightened, brushing imaginary dust from his coat before offering his arm to me. "Shall we?"

"One moment." Eshlyn stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor as she picked up something small, holding it out in her palm.

A silver chain with a bright green emerald at its center. The kind she used to offer me before… everything.

She stepped forward without a word, her eyes flicking from the soulstone at my throat to the necklace in her hand, then back to my face.

I understood what it meant, so I reached up slowly and unbuckled the leather cord. The soulstone came free, warm and beating faintly against my palm. For a moment, I just held it, feeling that familiar throb of silver light before tying it around my wrist like a bracelet. Still close, but less on display.

Eshlyn stepped in then. "I hope this serves as a reminder that no matter how far away we may seem..." She fastened the clasp at the back of my neck, her fingers brushing my skin with familiar precision before holding the emerald lightly. A faint warmth rested against my collarbone, subtle but unmistakable. "...You are always within reach." She winked, trying for a light smile that didn't reach her eyes.

I nodded. It was all I could manage before turning my gaze away.

Eshlyn pulled me into a brief hug, careful not to linger or hold too tight. When she pulled back, her hand stayed on my shoulder for just a moment. Her thumb brushing the fabric with a puzzled expression, like she was trying to memorize the feel of it.

"Your hair looks nice," she said quietly, taking a slow breath before finally turning. "Go on."

I took Lawrence's offered arm as we moved toward the door. 

Val was already there, one hand on the frame, jaw tight. 

Lawrence's smile never wavered, practiced and calm. "Val.” He nodded, “Always a pleasure."

Val's hand tightened on the doorframe until his knuckles went white. For a moment, it looked like he might say something. Grab my arm and pull me back inside. Tell Lawrence exactly what he thought of him, consequences be damned.

Instead, he just held my gaze one more time. Icy eyes begging me to stay, to speak, to give him something.

I looked away. Couldn't bear it.

Lawrence's steady arm settled over my hand as we stepped outside into the evening streets. The door closed behind us with a soft click that sounded louder than it should have.

I didn't look back. Couldn’t risk cracking the numbness settling back into place like armor.

At least Lawrence's touch carried no weight threatening to split me open. No silent pleas for me to be someone I could no longer summon. There was nothing between us sharp enough to cut with, no love I could wield to slice into him, no care he could use to break me.

Perhaps that was enough. Enough for me to pretend. Pretend to be whole around someone who had no concern for how truly broken I was.

“Nyla has taken quite a liking to you. I suppose she’s coming with us then.”

“Yes,” My voice found structure. “She is.”