Chapter 48
Chapter Forty-Eight
T he sound of crying reached me before I saw her.
Sharp. Shaky. Raw enough to still the air.
I froze, my heart faltering at the unmistakable breaking in Evie’s voice.
"Can you please stay here?" I asked Maalikai, already pushing through the brush.
"You know I'm not meant to," he muttered, his voice a barely restrained growl.
"It's Evie," I said, rolling my eyes. "What's she going to do—stab me with a hairpin? Even if she had a blade, she wouldn’t stand a chance."
Maalikai huffed but caved. "Fine. But I'm not moving from this spot.”
"Suit yourself."
I shoved past the last line of bushes, thorns catching my arms, tearing open skin. I ignored the sting, stepping onto the edge of the stream.
As soon as Evie saw me, she tried—and failed—to scrub her tears away, only succeeding in smearing red dye across her cheeks like war paint.
“It’s okay. It’s just me,” I said, my voice softening.
“I’m not sure if that’s meant to comfort me or not.” She whispered, her voice barely audible.
Ouch.
“Was that an insult?”
She huffed a shaky breath. Then surrendered, her voice cracking on the truth. “The one person I didn’t want to show weakness in front of… is the one person who finds me.”
My heart stuttered—not because of what she said, but because of what she didn’t.
Because I knew.
Gods, I knew.
I knew that fear. That silence.
It was the same thing that crippled me, too. The same fear that haunted my own soul—the fear of being seen in the places we kept buried and then judged unworthy.
Afraid of disappointing. Afraid our weaknesses would be our undoing.
“V.”
Her eyes snapped to mine, and I knew why.
I hadn’t called her that in nearly a decade. Just like she’d called me back from the cliff—that name hit like memory, like love we’d both forgotten how to carry.
“You could never disappoint me.”
She broke.
Not quietly. She physically crumbled.
Sank to her knees in the river, tears streaking down her cheeks. They spilled fast, like they’d been held back too long—like letting go was the only way to breathe.
I dropped beside her.
“What’s going on?” I asked, though I already knew this wasn’t just panic or pain.
This was grief.
“Nothing,” she sobbed.
“Clearly,” I muttered, tilting my head toward the water, stained a violent bleeding red, the color swirling downstream until it disappeared into nothingness.
"I was just... dying some dresses," she mumbled, holding up her hands, stained red to the wrists.
"And the rest of you?" I quirked a brow at her, taking in the streaks of ochre dripping from her forehead, her temples, even smudging beneath her chin. "Because unless you're planning on dyeing your whole damn self, I'm not buying it."
Evie gave a watery laugh, the sound as fragile as shattered glass. For a moment, it looked like she might hold it together.
Then she broke.
Crumbled into herself like the weight of whatever she was carrying was just too much.
Without thinking, I plunged further into the stream, water splashing high around my boots as I waded toward her.
I wrapped my arms around her, drawing her tight against me.
And the second I did—she collapsed fully, like she'd been waiting for someone to catch her all along.
"It's okay," I whispered into her hair, ignoring the red staining my hands, my sleeves, the front of my tunic.
"You're okay."
We stood there, tangled together, while the stream kept pulling the dye away—bleeding it out like it could somehow wash us clean. Like it knew the two of us were stained by something deeper than red ochre. Something written into the very blood running through our veins.
But neither of us said it.
Instead, I just held her tighter.
"Come on," I said at last, voice rough. "Let's get you cleaned up before Maalikai thinks I actually got stabbed."
“I’m not ready. Not ready to face anyone.”
So we didn’t.
We stood there for a moment longer, Evie shaking in my arms, her fists curled tight against my chest like if she let go, she'd drown.
"It's okay," I murmured into her hair. "You're okay."
But she wasn’t.
Not really.
When her trembling finally eased enough that she could breathe, I pulled back just enough to tip her chin up.
Red ochre streaked her face, carving angry lines down her cheeks like the world itself had been unkind.
"You wanna tell me what's really going on?" I asked, gentler now. "Because I don't think this is about the dresses."
Her mouth twisted—a war between shame and honesty. For a second, I thought she might lie again.
Then she broke.
"I can't do anything," she blurted out, voice cracking on the last word.
"I’m not like you, Emmie. You’ve got a sword in one hand and the elements bowing at your feet and—and I’m just here. Sitting on the sidelines. Waiting for the war to come and not being able to do a damn thing to stop it." The words spilled out in a rush—raw, ugly, and desperate.
I opened my mouth—but nothing came out. Because the truth was, I hadn’t seen it.
Hadn’t noticed how the ground was shifting under her too, how the people who used to stand beside her were suddenly outpacing her, leaving her behind in a world that was getting sharper, bloodier, more unforgiving by the day.
"I need to do something," she whispered, voice breaking entirely now. "I need to matter."
Tears burned the back of my throat.
"You do matter," I said fiercely, gripping her shoulders. "You matter because you're you, not because you can swing a sword or cast a spell."
"But it's not enough," she choked out. "Not anymore."
The stream rushed around our legs, carrying away the dye, the lies, the pieces of ourselves we didn't want to face. I realized then that Evie didn’t want to be protected.
She wanted to fight.
To bleed.
To choose who she became instead of standing still while the world remade itself without her.
"I don't know where I fit in this," she said. "I don't know who I'm supposed to be."
I tucked a strand of her blood-red hair behind her ear, my hand lingering at her temple like I could somehow anchor her to this moment. To me.
But then her body convulsed—sharp, sudden. Like I’d shocked her.
And maybe I had.
Maybe my magik, wild and untethered, had reached for her without me calling it.
“Evie?”
She gasped once—a horrible, broken sound—then collapsed. Folded in on herself like a puppet whose strings had been severed.
I caught her just before the water could claim her completely, her weight limp in my arms.
No. No. No.
Her head lolled. Her skin was too cold.
I couldn’t feel her breath.
“Maalik!”
My voice tore from me, ragged and panicked, shattering the stillness.
He was at my side in an instant, lifting her from the current with terrifying ease, cradling her against his chest like she was something fragile.
Her eyes were closed. Her lips, pale. Her body?—
Gods. Her body wasn’t moving.
It was too still.
“Evie—no, no, no?—”
I scrambled after them, slipping in the mud as Maalikai laid her on the mossy bank. My legs gave out beneath me. I landed hard in the mud, lungs barely working.
She wasn’t breathing.
She wasn’t breathing.
I dropped to my knees beside her, my fingers shaking uncontrollably as I pressed them to her throat, her wrist, her chest—anywhere.
Anywhere that might tell me I hadn’t just?—
No.
She couldn’t be gone.
She couldn’t be gone because of me.
“I did this,” I whispered. The words barely formed. “Gods, I?—”
Then—there it was.
Faint. Fluttering. But there.
Maalikai’s gaze met mine, grim and steady. “She’s alive.”
Relief collapsed my lungs. A sound escaped me—half sob, half breath—as Evie’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and sluggish.
They found mine.
“Hi,” she murmured.
Tears blurred my vision. I let out a strangled laugh that tasted like blood.
“Are you okay?” My voice cracked, torn and unsteady.
She sat up slowly, brows furrowed.
“Yeah... I think so.” She flexed her fingers, curling them into a fist. “I feel weird. Different.”
“Oh Gods.”
Her gaze snapped to mine, suddenly alert. “Weird good, not weird bad.” She must’ve seen the panic rising again. “I’m completely fine.”
But I wasn’t.
“Take her to my mom,” I said, voice hollow.
“I said I’m fine,” she repeated, more firmly now.
I ignored her. So did Maalikai.
“What about you? I'm not meant to leave you,” he said, his voice low but cutting through the haze.
My hands trembled violently.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t speak.
I was afraid that if I reached for her again, I’d kill her for real.
“It’s fine,” I whispered. “I’ll be fine. She’s the only one that matters.”
“You guys aren’t listening,” Evie groaned. “I’m fine.”
Maalikai’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. Then he caved.
“Go straight to your room. Wait for me there.”
Before Evie could argue, he scooped her into his arms and carried her away—protesting, and most importantly breathing.
And I did as I was told.
My legs moved, but I wasn’t there .
I wasn’t anywhere.
Just—echoes.
Of her name. Of the sound she made when she collapsed. Of the horrifying silence that followed.
Aftershocks rolled through me, each one worse than the last.
One breath at a time.
One trembling step after another.
Gods.
I’d almost killed her.
By the time I made it to the house, my clothes were soaked, my hands still trembling, and my thoughts looping in a spiral I couldn’t break.
A long walk around the perimeter of the ward had helped, at least a little. But I still barely remembered climbing the stairs. The weight of the fear still pressing on my chest.
When I opened the door to my room, Evie was sitting cross-legged on my bed. Bundled in my favourite blanket–which, by some unspoken agreement, had also become her favorite blanket. Her hair half-dried and sticking out like angry flames around her face.
She looked up when I entered. “You’re dripping wet.”
“You almost drowned,” I said flatly.
Her eyes softened. “And yet here I am. Resurrected thanks to you.”
I let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh and not quite a sob. “Don’t.”
She scooted over, patting the bed beside her. “Come on. You’re going to catch frostbite in that.”
I peeled off the wet layers, tossed them in a heap on the floor, and pulled on the first warm thing I could find. Then I crawled under the blanket beside her, being careful not to touch her.
The silence that followed was thick—comfortable in a way only shared trauma could be. Two girls wrapped in wool and candlelight, pretending the world wasn’t about to split open outside the ward.
Evie bumped her shoulder into mine. “You scared me today.”
“Right back at you,” I muttered.
We sat there for a while, leaning into the quiet.
Not empty. Just... full.
Full of what we hadn’t said. What didn’t need saying.
“Wait, did you just touch me?” She nodded, oblivious to the extent of my disbelief. “And you didn’t have a seizure or I dunno, die?”
Her laughter was instant, filling my room with light it had been craving. “Obviously not.”
“This calls for a celebration.” My voice lowered. “Want to do something dubious?”
She blinked. “Is that a trick question?”
I was definitely a bad influence on her—and I loved it.
A sly smile curved at my lips. “Something of the greatest importance.”
Her brow rose, noting the scandal in my tone. “Go on.”
“Do you feel like a midnight voyage to the forge?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Why would I want to do that?”
“You said you want to do something that matters,” I said, pushing off the headboard to face her fully. “And I can’t think of anything better than you and I joining forces... for something epic.”
“Are you going to give me any details, or completely leave me in the dark?”
Of course she would want more details, she practically siphoned facts and absorbed information just for fun.
“It’s for Bastian and Maalik.”
Evie tilted her head. “You’ve chosen between them?”
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it—small, a little cracked, but real. “No. Not even close.”
Her expression softened. Curious. But not judging.
I swallowed, dragging in a breath. “They both deserve my heart, and they both have it. That won’t change, even if I do choose one over the other.”
Evie nodded, something unreadable flickering behind her gaze.
“So?” I asked, rising from the bed, the firelight catching in my eyes. “Want to come forge fate with me?”
Her eyes lit up. “Definitely yes. What do I have to do?”
“Just make sure Maalik drinks from a cup I give you.”
Her smile faltered. “Why can’t you do it?”
“Because he’d see right through me,” I said, tossing a new shirt over my head. “There is no way I’d pull it off. But Miss Goody Two Shoes ?” I shot her a pointed look. “He wouldn’t suspect a thing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to poison him, are you?”
I laughed—harder than I had all day. “Gods, no. Just giving him something to help him sleep. Honestly, we’ll be doing him a favor.”
She rolled her eyes but smirked. “You’re chaos.”
“And you love it.” A devious smirk lifted the corner of my mouth. “I’ll meet you at the forge at midnight,” I said, grabbing the satchel from beside the bed. “That should give it enough time to kick in.”
“I don’t love this idea.”
“You don’t have to,” I said, stepping toward the door with a wicked grin. “You just have to trust me.”