Chapter 41
ELIJAH
I watch in horror as the tremor in his left arm intensifies, his head snapping side to side—too fast, too hard.
“Noah!” I yell, panic cutting through my frustration. “Noah!”
But it’s too late. He’s gone—slipped back into the storm.
He drops to the floor, curling in on himself, knees drawn tight to his chest. He rocks back and forth, back and forth, humming through his teeth—a sound that makes my skin crawl with helplessness. For a moment, I can’t think. My mind blanks, refuses to catch up to what my eyes are seeing.
Then instinct kicks in.
I shake out my hands, drop to my knees, and grab his shoulders, trying to hold him still. His skin is clammy. His eyes are screwed shut, lashes trembling.
“Don’t go there, Noah,” I whisper. “Don’t you dare go back in that rain.”
He doesn’t respond—just hums louder, the sound vibrating through his chest like it’s coming from somewhere deeper than his lungs.
I’ve been through a lot of shit in my life, but this—this terrifies me. Not because he’s breaking, but because I don’t know how to reach him.
I grasp at anything that might though. A memory surfaces—something Gabriel once said.
Different people, he’d suggested. The phrase echoes, splitting in my head like a fault line.
One voice insists that it can’t be true, that no one just becomes someone else.
Another whispers Gabriel’s words, that he’s seen it in the artwork—felt it.
A wild thought strikes.
“Meera?” I breathe out, slowly rising to my feet.
His eyes pop open.
A chill snakes up my spine.
I look away—just for a second. Then glance back at Noah. And suddenly… he’s a stranger wearing the same face. The familiarity is gone, stripped clean, replaced by something watchful. Something alert.
I kneel again, searching his eyes, my heart pounding so hard it hurts.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
My breathing stops. A cold weight pools in my stomach, spreading outward until my hands start to shake. I don’t know if it’s fear for him—or fear of him.
He stretches the collar of his shirt as if he can’t get enough air. Tears brim in his eyes. His fingers find mine again, trembling so hard the vibration hums through my skin.
“I’m Noah,” he says softly.
The name lands between us—careful, almost rehearsed. Offered, not claimed.
“Just… Noah.”