30. Eira
30
EIRA
I wake in the darkness. My body yearns for the warmth I've denied myself. The night breeze carries their scents - Grash's earthy musk, Murok's spice, Dren's rain-kissed forest. They sleep mere feet away, yet the distance feels like leagues.
My fingers trace the edge of Dren's cloak that he draped over me earlier. The fabric still holds his warmth, and I hate how much comfort it brings. I hate how my heart leaps when Grash's eyes find mine across the fire, or how Murok's voice makes my skin tingle.
"Can't sleep?" Murok's whisper cuts through the silence. I keep my eyes fixed on the stars above.
"I'm fine." The white lie falls from my lips.
"Liar," he says, but there's no bite to it. Just sadness.
He always could see right through me. I am a liar indeed.
Grash shifts in his sleep, reaching out unconsciously to the empty space beside him where I used to lay. My heart clenches at the sight. I remember how safe I felt between them, how Grash's arms would shield me from the world, how Murok's clever fingers would trace patterns on my skin, how Dren's quiet strength anchored me.
"We miss you," Murok says softly.
I curl tighter into myself, clutching Dren's cloak. "You miss what you thought I was."
"No." Dren's voice startles me. I hadn't realized he was awake. "We miss who you are."
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting the burning sensation behind them. Their warmth, their touch, their fierce protection - it had felt real. So real that sometimes I forget it started as just a mission to them.
Grash stirs, his eyes finding mine in the darkness. The longing in his gaze mirrors the pain in my chest. "Come back to us," he rumbles.
I turn away, but I can't stop my body from trembling at the memory of their touch, their warmth, their...everything.
The stars blur as tears threaten to spill. I blink them away, refusing to show weakness. My sister. They're here because of my sister. The truth burns in me like poison, making each breath harder than the last.
"Come back to us," Grash repeats, his voice rough with emotion.
I want to laugh at the irony. Come back? I was never truly there. I was only a mission, a task to be completed. Every touch, every kiss, every moment I thought was real - it was all orchestrated. They knew exactly what they were doing when they saved me in the pits. They knew how desperate, how broken I was.
"Why haven't you told me?" The words slip out. "About my sister?"
The silence that follows is deafening. I hear Murok's sharp intake of breath, see Dren's shoulders tense, watch Grash's eyes widen in the firelight.
"How long have you known?" Murok asks carefully.
"Long enough." I wrap Dren's cloak tighter around myself, hating how much I crave its comfort. "I heard you talking. About how she sent you. About how I was just a mission."
"Eira-" Grash starts, but I cut him off.
"Don't." My voice cracks. "Don't pretend it was anything else. You found a broken slave girl and played your parts perfectly. The protector," I look at Grash, "the strategist," my eyes find Murok, "and the silent guardian." Finally, I meet Dren's silver gaze. "Was any of it real? Or was I just that easy to manipulate?"
"It became real," Dren whispers, and the raw honesty in his voice makes me flinch.
"When?" I demand. "When did it stop being a mission and start being real? When you held me while I slept? When you killed for me? When you fucked me?"
That word makes Grash growl, but I don't care. Let them feel a fraction of the pain I'm feeling.
"The mission stopped mattering the moment I saw you in those pits," Murok says softly. "Everything after that was real."
I close my eyes, remembering every gentle touch, every fierce protection, every moment I let myself believe I was more than just a task to be completed. "How can I believe anything you say?"
"Let me explain," Grash says, his golden-brown eyes burning with intensity. I turn away, but his massive form blocks me.
"There's nothing to explain." My voice wavers despite my attempt to keep it steady. "I was a mission. Simple as that."
"No." Grash's hand reaches for me, then drops. "Your sister told us where to find you, yes. But the moment I saw you in those pits..." He exhales sharply. "The way you held yourself, even when being restrained. The fire in your eyes when those bastards hurt you."
"Stop," I whisper, but Murok cuts in.
"You weren't broken," he says, his braids catching the firelight. "Despite everything they did to you, you remained unbroken. Do you know how rare that is?"
"I was trained to survive," I say softly.
"No." Dren's quiet voice makes me jump. "You were trained to submit. Instead, you fought with us."
"I killed that guard," I say, remembering the warm blood on my hands. "You made me into a killer."
"You were always a fighter," Grash growls. "We just gave you the chance to prove it."
"Your sister chose us specifically," Murok adds, his blue eyes intense. "But she didn't tell us to protect you the way we did. To kill for you. To..." He trails off, and I remember his lips on mine, his hands gentle despite their strength.
"The mission was to get you out," Dren says softly. "Everything else - that was real."
"You should have told me," I whisper.
"Would you have trusted us if we had?" Murok asks. "A slave girl being told her sister sent three orcs to save her?"
The truth of his words stings. I wouldn't have believed them. I would have assumed it was another trick, another trap.
"Your determination called to something in us," Grash says roughly. "Something that made us want to be worthy of your trust."
A tear slips down my cheek before I can stop it. "And now?"
"Now," Dren moves closer, his eyes holding mine, "we want to be worthy of your love."
The tears come, hot and endless. My throat closes up as Dren's words echo in my head. Worthy of my love. Love. The word itself is foreign, dangerous.
I curl into myself, Dren's cloak a shield between us. My shoulders shake with silent sobs I can't contain. Their presence surrounds me - Grash's worried rumble, Murok's sharp intake of breath, Dren's careful stillness.
"Eira," Grash's voice breaks on my name.
I press my face into my knees, unable to look at them. Unable to see the truth - or lies - in their eyes. My chest feels like it's being crushed.
The worst part is how much I want to believe them. How desperately I want their words to be true.
"Please," Murok whispers, and I've never heard him beg before. "Say something."
But I can't. Because if I speak, I might believe them. If I look up, I might see truth in their eyes. And then what? Then I'd have to admit that I want them - have always wanted them - mission or not.
The fire fizzles between us, and my tears fall silently into the dirt. I've never felt more alone than in this moment, surrounded by the three beings I want most in this world.
They wait for words I cannot give, for trust I cannot offer, for love I cannot admit. And so I stay silent, letting the night swallow my tears.