23. Eira
23
EIRA
T he flames blur through my tears as I stare into the dying fire. My chest feels like it's being crushed by an invisible weight. After everything—the pits, the escape, the nights spent trusting them with my life—they think I would betray them?
"Stupid," I whisper, wiping furiously at my cheeks. "Stupid to think anyone would ever..."
The words catch in my throat. The mountain wind whips around me, biting through my thin dress, but I barely feel it. The physical cold is no match to the ice spreading through my chest.
I glance at Grash's pack lying nearby. Inside are supplies, enough to survive for a while. My fingers brush the hilt of my short sword, then trace one of my daggers.
"I should have known better." My voice cracks. "Should have known it would end like this."
The accusation in Murok's eyes, the way Grash turned away, how even Dren—gentle, quiet Dren—looked at me with doubt. It shouldn't hurt this much. I never fully trusted them either, did I? But somehow, they made me believe...
A sob tears from my throat. I press my fist against my mouth to stifle it, but the dam has broken. Tears stream down my face as my shoulders shake.
"I can't stay here." The words come out between gasps. "I can't—I can't watch them look at me like that anymore."
My hands tremble as I grab Grash's pack, securing it over my shoulder. I check my weapons—the familiar routine helps steady my breathing.
"They were just following orders anyway," I tell myself, but my voice wavers. "Just another broken thing to deliver. They won't really miss me."
I take one last look at the camp, memorizing the empty spaces where they should be. Where they chose not to be anymore.
"Goodbye," I whisper to no one, and then I run.
My feet pound against the mountain path as branches whip past my face. The moon casts silver shadows through the trees, but I barely notice the beauty. My mind keeps dragging me back to that night in the ruins when everything felt possible.
The way Dren's silver eyes had darkened with desire, how his usual silence had broken into soft groans under my body. His gentleness as his lips brushed the top of my head afterwards.
Then Murok, with his clever hands and that knowing smirk that melted into something raw and real. He'd whispered things that made me believe I was more than just a mission, more than just a broken thing to be saved.
And Grash... My heart beats faster remembering how he'd held me after, like I was precious. His fierce protectiveness had turned to such tenderness.
That night, I'd let myself imagine a future. Waking up between them, belonging somewhere, to someone—to three someones who might actually want me for me. Not as a possession or a mission, but as myself.
"Love isn't for people like me," I whisper to the darkness. The word feels foreign on my tongue. Love. Is that what this ache in my chest is? This feeling like my heart is being torn apart?
I've never known real love. How can I recognize its loss? But I remember Dren's quiet devotion, Murok's challenging faith in me, Grash's fierce care. If that wasn't love, it was the closest I've ever come.
I force myself to keep moving. "I thought maybe they saw me. Really saw me."
But they saw a traitor instead. And maybe they're right.
The mountain wind carries away my sobs as I run faster, trying to outpace the memory of their touch, their protection, and everything I'd foolishly begun to hope for.
The mountain forest closes in around me. Branches snag my hair and scratch my face as I run deeper into the darkness. My lungs burn, but I can't stop. Won't stop. The night wraps around me, but even its darkness can't hide the truth I've always known.
"Worthless," I whisper, the word tasting like bile. "Nothing but a body to be used."
My foot catches on a root and I stumble, catching my shoulder hard against a rough tree trunk. The bark bites into my shoulder blade, and I welcome the pain. It's familiar, at least. Unlike the pang in my chest that threatens to tear me apart.
"Stupid girl." My voice cracks. "Thinking they actually wanted you. Thinking anyone could..."
The wind whips through the trees, carrying the scent of pine and earth. It reminds me of Dren. How his silver eyes would soften when he looked at me. But it was all a lie, wasn't it?
I push myself forward, though my legs shake with exhaustion. The shadows between the trees grow thicker, but they're nothing compared to the darkness inside me. Every step takes me further from them, from their warmth, their protection. From the foolish dream that I could be more than what I am.
"Just a whore," I choke out, tears streaming down my face. "That's all you'll ever be. That's all anyone will ever see."
The forest seems to mock me with its silence. Even the wind dies down, leaving me alone with my thoughts, my worthlessness, my shame. I've never been anything but a body to be bought and sold, used and discarded. Why did I let myself believe I could be anything more?
The darkness grows deeper, matching the void in my chest. I keep running, though I have no destination. There's nowhere for someone like me to go. No place where I belong.
"You'll always be nothing," I tell myself, voice raw with truth. "Always be no one."
My lungs burn as I push through the thick mountain forest. The moon barely penetrates the dense canopy, leaving me stumbling through shadows. Pine needles crunch beneath my feet, too loud in the oppressive silence.
"Just keep moving," I gasp between ragged breaths. My legs tremble with exhaustion, but I won't stop. Every step takes me further from their betrayal, from their accusation.
A twig snaps somewhere to my left. I freeze, my hand instinctively reaching for my dagger, but my fingers fumble on the hilt. My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear anything else.
Another snap, closer this time. The shadows seem to shift and writhe around me.
"Who's—" The word dies in my throat as something hard strikes the side of my head. Pain explodes through my skull like lightning. My knees buckle as the forest tilts sideways.
Dark shapes emerge from the shadows, their armor gleaming dully in what little moonlight filters through the trees. Dark elves. How did they?—
"The little slave thought she could run," a cold voice sneers.
I try to reach for my weapons, but my arms won't cooperate. The ground rushes up to meet me as darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision.
"No," I manage to whisper, but it's too late. The last thing I see is moonlight before consciousness slips away entirely.