34. Selis
Selis
She’s too still.
Too quiet.
The glow that poured out of her like a storm is gone now—dimmed down to a soft shimmer barely there at all.
She burns like a dying coal in my arms, and I can’t stop touching her—her cheek, her hair, her neck—like maybe I can anchor her back into her body with my hands alone.
“Come on, starlight,” I murmur, barely above a breath. “You don’t get to disappear on me now.”
She doesn’t stir.
Her skin is slick with sweat, and her breath comes too shallow. I can feel her heartbeat, but it’s fluttery—off rhythm. Too fast.
I press my forehead to hers, close my eyes against the twist in my gut.
“You have to stay,” I whisper. “You hear me? I don’t— I can’t —”
My voice breaks.
I bite it back. Swallow it down like blood.
Behind me, I hear the soft sound of whispered prayer. Rialeth. On her knees, murmuring to a goddess who has already taken too much.
I don’t turn to look at her. I shouldn’t have my back to her. That’s a rookie mistake, and I know better.
But all my focus is on Naera. On the rise and fall of her chest. On the silence where her voice should be.
“You better keep praying,” I snarl, not lifting my head. “Because if she dies—”
I shift, just enough to glance at Rialeth. Just enough for her to see the promise in my eyes.
“—I’ll take my time killing you.”
It doesn’t come out loud. Doesn’t need to.
It comes out low. Certain.
And I mean it .
Rialeth’s hands tremble where they’re folded. But she doesn’t stop praying. Doesn’t meet my gaze.
Smart girl.
I look back down at Naera. Brush a thumb along her jaw. Her lashes twitch faintly. Maybe a flicker of a response. Maybe not.
“You’re not done yet,” I whisper. “Don’t you dare be done.”
Her lashes twitch again.
This time I see it.
I freeze, breath caught in my throat.
Then she wakes in my arms.
Not like the other times—no slow return from dreams, no soft blinking.
This time it’s like something rips her back into her body. She jerks. Gasping. Eyes wide and wild, chest heaving like she’s just surfaced from drowning.
“Naera,” I breathe. “Hey. Look at me. You’re alright now, starlight.”
She doesn’t.
Her gaze shoots past me, upward—like she’s searching the sky for something that might still be watching .
Rialeth is kneeling a few feet away, pale and silent, lips still moving in useless prayer. I should’ve killed her when I had the chance.
“Naera.” My voice cuts sharper this time.
She flinches, then looks at me. And I hate the look on her face. It’s not pain. Not fear. It’s resolve… Hard. Holy. Like something settled in her while she was gone and now she’s come back different.
“What did you see?” I ask.
Naera doesn’t blink. Doesn’t look away. Her voice is hoarse, cracked at the edges—but steady.
“The Garden,” she says. “The girls…”
It knocks the breath out of me. Not the words—the certainty of them. Her fingers grip the front of my shirt like she’s still holding onto the vision.
“And Selene,” she says. “She spoke to me.”
Rialeth makes a sound behind me—something between a gasp and a sob—but I don’t turn.
I keep my eyes on Naera.
“What did she say?”
Naera’s glow flickers at her throat. Dim. But pulsing.
“She told me to return.”
A pause.
Then—quieter, not a whisper, but close:
“She said to unmake what was broken.”
“No.” The word rips out of me, sharper than I mean it to be. “No, that’s not happening.”
Naera pushes upright, her limbs trembling like she’s trying to rise out of a body that’s still deciding whether it can hold her. She slips from my grasp, and I let her—for now. My hands fall to my lap, dismissed, but my eyes never waver from her.
“ Selene spoke to me,” she says. Her voice is low, steady—but not calm. Not safe. “Her voice. In me.”
And for a beat, all I can do is stare. Because this isn’t a girl recounting a dream. This is a girl who believes she’s been called.
Something cold and ancient presses down between us—like the gods themselves are leaning in to listen.
Let them.
“Even if that’s true, you don’t owe her anything.”
Her eyes lift to mine, wide and burning. “They’ll all die.”
“And you’ll die if you go back!” My hands tighten to fists.
That stops her. Just for a moment. Just enough for the silence to ache. Then she says it. The thing that guts me clean.
“I have to go back.”
My blood goes cold. Not fear. Not shock. Something deeper. Something hollow. “You don’t.”
“I do.”
“Why?” My voice cracks at the edge.
“Because she chose me.”
“ I chose you.”
She flinches. It’s small—just a blink, a hitch of breath—but I see it. I feel it like splinters under my skin, like something breaking in me I don’t know how to hold shut.
“I know…” she says, and her voice— her voice —it barely survives the air between us. Like it’s already unraveling.
She’s still sitting, knees drawn up, fingers twisted in the hem of her cloak. She looks up at me through lashes wet and heavy, her eyes the color of some storm I can’t outrun.
“But if I run…” Her throat works around the words. “They al l die.”
She says it like it’s a truth. Like it’s already happened. Like she’s responsible for all of it—every girl, every altar, every drop of blood spilled in Selene’s name.
And I want to scream. Tear the sky open and ask the gods why her .
“I don’t care about them,” I say, low and raw. “I care about you .”
Her expression folds inward—gentle and guilty and unbearable. And then she ruins me with four quiet words: “I care about them.”
My whole body stills. A slow freeze.
“They’re my sisters, Selis,” she says, voice thick with everything she’s not trying to hide anymore. “Maybe not by blood, but… I lit candles beside them. We prayed together. We were raised together. That makes them mine… You should understand that.”
The silence that follows feels like winter breaking inside my chest.
“Don’t bring him into this.”
Her breath catches. But it’s too late. It’s out.
Lior. Always him. Always bleeding into the parts of me I try to keep stitched shut.
I’m on my feet before I know it. My hands won’t stop shaking. I can’t look at her. Can’t breathe around the thing clawing its way up my throat.
“So you’re just going to walk onto the altar like it’s holy ?”
“If I don’t,” she says quietly, rising too, “they’ll kill them and then you , maybe.”
And that’s when the ache in my chest stops feeling like heartbreak.
And starts feeling like fury .
“Good,” I snarl. “Let them try.”
The sound of steel sings through the dark. I’ve drawn my blade, and I didn’t even notice. It’s in my hand now like it grew there. Like the old me, the mercenary, the monster, is clawing her way out.
Naera looks at it. Looks at me. Doesn’t even blink.
“Don’t do this,” I whisper. It’s not a plea. It’s a fucking collapse. “Don’t make me watch you do this.”
She looks down.
Then up.
Her gaze meets mine—steady, soft, shattering.
“You don’t have to,” she says.
She says it like it’s already decided.
Like it’s too late.
And something in me snaps.
“What makes you think I’ll let you go?” The words tear free before I can leash them. “I can kill Rialeth—right now—and then chain you again. Drag you away. Lock you down in some quiet godsforsaken valley where no one will ever find you.”
I step closer. The blade is still in my hand.
“I’m a monster, remember?”
She doesn’t flinch. Not this time.
I tilt my head, eyes burning into hers. “And if being a monster is what it takes to keep you… then I’ll embrace it. Wholeheartedly.”
She exhales. Soft and slow. Like it hurts. Then she rises and steps close. Her hands, warm and steady, reach for my face. Fingers threading up into my hair, thumbs brushing the line of my jaw like I’m something sacred and not something broken.
“You’re not a monster, Selis,” she says, voice velvet-soft but unshakable. “You’re just scared. ”
Then she kisses me.
Right there, in front of Rialeth. In front of the ruins of everything we were just shouting about. No hesitation. No shame. Just the truth of it, pressed into my mouth like a vow.
My blade slips from my fingers and pierces the ground. And the world stops trying to end—for just a heartbeat.
The kiss is brief.
Too brief.
But it brands me all the same.
She pulls back just enough to look at me. Her thumb lingers at the corner of my mouth, like she’s memorizing the shape of me.
Behind us, Rialeth clears her throat.
Soft. Controlled. But brittle at the edges.
I almost pity her.
Almost.
Because Naera’s fingers are still on my skin. Her body still close enough to feel the heat she holds. And Rialeth can kneel and beg and chant all she wants, but I know what I felt in that kiss.
She chose me back.
Even if it’s only for now. Even if the next moment shatters everything, I’ll hold this one like a blade.
She says she has to go.
But I’m not giving her to the gods tonight.
“Wait,” I say, the words low. “Sleep on it.”
Naera opens her mouth to argue, that stubborn fire already sparking behind her eyes.
But I don’t let her speak.
I reach up—slow, careful—and brush my thumb over her lips.
They part on instinct, the breath catching in her throat. Gods, her mouth is soft. Warmer than it should be after everything. I feel it beneath my skin, that ache for her—for this . For every moment I might lose if she leaves me behind.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur, gaze still fixed on her mouth. “You’re not going anywhere like this.”
She stills. The fire dims, just a little. Like she’s remembering I’m not her enemy.
Not yet.
Not ever .
I glance at Rialeth, who hasn’t moved since the vision. Still knelt in the dirt like a penitent thing, hands in her lap, eyes closed. A picture of grace carved from old stone.
But I know better now.
She’s not a temple. She’s a trap.
“And I’m not listening to anything more from her until you’ve rested,” I say, louder now. Not for Naera. For the other one. I know she’s still listening behind those shuttered lids.
Naera’s silence stretches, taut as a drawn bowstring. Then she nods. Once. Slow.
“One night,” she whispers.
I breathe.