Chapter 40 #2
Why do other people get to live soft lives while I had to break just to survive?
My breath catches.
Why did my parents die in a wreck on a stupid road trip, and some other family got to keep theirs?
Why did my foster parents leave me behind every time they went to out of town?
My heart slams once, then again.
Why am I the one on shift every Christmas? Every Fourth of July? Why do the couples at the clinic get holidays off while I’m scrubbing blood off the floor at midnight?
I set the cup down too hard. It sloshes but doesn’t spill.
It’s not my fault I’m here? Why do they all look at me like I chose this?
I shove the blanket off. Stand. The rocking chair slams into the wall behind it.
Why is comfort always for other people?
I don’t know if I say it out loud or scream it in my head, but suddenly the room is too tight. The windows pulse. The walls breathe. And that sharp, crawling ache of unfairness rises like bile in my throat.
It’s not fair.
It’s never been fair.
And maybe I don’t want to be gracious about it anymore.
I stagger away from the couch. The air turns wet and cloying. Something behind me whispers soothing lies in my mother’s voice.
“You’re stronger for it, sweetheart. That’s why you were chosen.”
Chosen? No. NO.
I slap my hands over my ears. My teeth bare in a snarl.
“Shut up,” I whisper.
I’ve always been the resilient one.
“I said shut up!”
The world doesn’t listen. The cushions stretch into vines. The floor warps like rippling water. My name echoes in sweet, pitying tones.
“SHUT UP!”
I scream. So hard my throat burns. I scream because I want to break something.
Because maybe if I do, I can stop feeling like I’m one step away from being erased.
I scream because none of this is fair, and no one will admit it, and I’m sick of carrying it like I’m supposed to be proud of how fucking heavy it is.
I scream because I agree with every damn thing this realm made me think, and I still know I don’t get to choose rest.
Something snaps.
The walls crack. The forest pours in through my peripheral vision. Green clogs my nostrils, shoves into my open mouth. It’s devouring me whole. This is it. The moment I go. And then—behind me—a sharp, frantic voice:
“Kay?”
I spin.
He’s here. Caz. Breathing hard like he’s been running. His shirt’s damp with sweat and sap, and his eyes are wild. “Jesus Christ, Kay.”
He’s here.
Caziel—dirt-streaked, wild-eyed, breathing like he ran straight through a forest fire—is here.
“How—”
He rushes toward me, his hand half-lifted like he doesn’t know whether to touch me or shield me.
“Kay,” he says my name again, breathless.
I blink, chest still heaving.
The room behind me is gone. The couch, the tea, the blanket, all of it swallowed up by the whispering dark. Now there’s pine underfoot, and red-gold light filtering through a canopy that didn’t exist before. The trial and the arena must still be out there, but it feels impossibly far away.
“How did you—” I start, then stop. My throat is raw.
Caziel takes another step closer. “You screamed, Kay. I heard you—we all heard you—even in the arena.” His expression softens when he sees my face. “You’re trembling.”
I don’t trust this, I should not trust this, but his voice is the same as it always is. Low and deliberate. Calm beneath the urgency. His glamour flickers, barely, but I’ve seen that before. That doesn’t mean he’s fake. If anything, it cements that he might be—
And his eyes, they look like they did that night he wrapped my wrists. When he said he was proud. When he touched my jaw and then didn’t kiss me.
“Tell me what happened,” he says, gentler now. “I was summoned. A council meeting. I felt something change. And then I heard you—gods, Kay, you screamed. I thought—”
“You felt something?”
He nods. “You always hum at the edge of my senses, but this was different. It was like the forest shouted your name.”
I swallow hard. That sounds like something he would say. Something only he would say. I don’t move; afraid I’ll shatter the moment. The anger is gone, like smoke after lightning, but the ache is still there. Deep. Twisting.
“How’d you get in?”
He frowns, like the question doesn’t compute. “Through the arch.” His fingers twitch at his sides. “I thought I lost you.”
That gets me. Not because I believe it, but because I want to. I want it so badly my ribs tighten around the need. He’s marked, the Ember Heir. He might be the one giving me realm threads or whatever they’re called, but his loyalty is to Crimson first.
“What if I said you almost did?” I whisper, not sure which version of him I’m speaking to.
Caziel’s gaze darken, hungry and intense, the way it looked the other night. I shiver.
“Then I’m here now. And I’m not leaving.”
My pendant pulses once against my collarbone.
I flinch, startled by the warmth, and press my palm to it.
Caz doesn’t seem to notice. He’s already reaching for me, and gods help me, I reach back.
He gathers me like I belong to him, like this was always going to happen.
His arms wind around my waist, his hand sliding into my hair.
His mouth hovers over mine, waiting just long enough to feel like a choice.
I tilt my face up and his lips almost meet mine, but he stops.
Just barely. He pulls back with effort, like it hurts him to do so. “Not here,” he murmurs. “Not unless you’re sure.”
Something inside me cracks open, and I laugh. Just a little. “You always do that.”
“Do what?”
“Let me choose.”
“Of course,” he says, brows drawing together like he’s confused it would be otherwise. It feels… real.
The kiss is everything I imagined. It starts soft, then deepens, hot and unsteady.
My body remembers this hunger, the way heat pools low in my belly, the way lips part and hands explore.
I melt into it, my fingers curling into the fabric at his shoulders.
I want to stay here. I want this to be real. Could it be real?
Maybe the trial is over. I haven’t walked out of the arch yet, but I fought back in the cabin. I didn’t let myself give in to the temptation. The desire to stay, to give up, to quit. Maybe he came for me. Maybe this is how it all ends. Not with fire, or blood, but with him.
There’s an itch beneath my skin. A prickle of doubt. A whisper I can’t quite hear. I break the kiss, breathless.
“Wait. Caz—” I glance around. “Are we… is this still—?”
He doesn’t answer, trailing kisses down my neck, his touch rougher now, hands wandering more boldly.
Do I even care? We’re still surrounded by lush green forest, too still, too heavy.
My ears almost feel like they’re ringing, but Caz is real.
He walked through the arch to find me. We just have to walk back together. The cabin was the trap.
“Caz?” I whisper. “This is still the trial, isn’t it?”
His jaw tightens. The forest rustles behind him, pine needles whispering things I don’t want to hear. I take a step back He watches me. Waits.
“I don’t want a lie.”
He hesitates, then drops his chin in a nod. “We can leave. Walk through the arch together. Finish this.”
I look up at him. “You’d do that?”
“If that’s what you want.” He gestures gently toward the edge of the forest. “Come on. We’ll go back. Together.”
I step toward him and this time it is me who kisses him. Softly. Briefly. A thank you. A goodbye, maybe. He tastes like warmth and sun and the ache I’ve been carrying since the moment we met. He kisses me back, deepening it, but not pushing. Not yet. When we pull away, I smile, shaky but sure.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
But just as I start to turn, his hand slides to my waist.
“Wait,” he murmurs, voice suddenly rough. “Just one more.”
His mouth finds mine again. And this time, it doesn’t stop. We crash together, lips and breath and hands in a blur of wanting. My back finds the bark of a pine tree, his body pressing into mine. My name is a prayer on his tongue.
“Caz,” I moan his name into his mouth, forgetting what I was going to say. His tongue strokes mine, one of his hands curling around the back of my neck. I press closer to the hard wall of his chest.
“Caz,” I say again, firmer. “We can’t— Not here.”
His voice is ragged. “Don’t care.”
“I do.” I press my palms to his chest. “Please, slow down.”
His fingers tangle in my hair, pulling my head back so he can press open-mouthed kisses to my throat.
“Caz,” I gasp. “Wait. The trial. We have to—”
“No. Not this time. Can’t,” he mutters, mouth hot on my neck.
I feel a scrape of teeth, and I shudder as heat pools in my belly.
I don’t care either. What’s another moment?
I finished right? Already beat the Viridian challenge.
I can enjoy him another moment. Another second.
Another press of lips and teeth and tongues.
His hand grips my waist, fingers biting into my skin.
I wonder if they’ll leave tiny bruises. Dark proof that this happened.
Evidence I won’t use the bruise cream to cover up.
I may even lie in my bunk and press my own fingers into them, feeling the residual ache.
He cups my breast, rolling the nipple between his thumb and forefinger and I freeze.
The pendant flares cold against my skin.
I want this. I do. But not here. Not in the middle of a trial, surrounded by an audience of trees.
“Caz, stop.” But he doesn’t stop, he grips me tighter, and the truth douses me like a bucket of frigid water.
This isn’t him.
I shove at his shoulders, pushing him back, heart pounding. For a moment he pulls me closer and my stomach drops. I use both hands to shove again and this time he takes a heavy step back, his gaze dark and hot and trained on my chest.
“What?” The question is tired, sharp. An accusation. “You wanted this yesterday.”
And yesterday Caz—the real Caz—turned me down flat.
“You’re not him.”
He stills. Then smiles and it’s all wrong.
“Poor little thing,” he purrs, leaning over me. “Still begging to be loved.” His hand traces the line of my cheek and I flinch.
My throat burns. “You don’t get to do this.”
He laughs, the sound deep and cruel. “Do what? Want you? You’re right. Why would I?”
“Stop.”
“You’ve been a fun diversion.” His smile shows a row of sharp teeth. Sharper than I remember. Sharper than they felt just minutes ago, “It’s been interesting, seeing how fast the little human can fall.”
“That’s not true,” I say, shaking my head.
Shadow slides across his face, his eyes inky and churning, his pupils too big for the dark irises. I wrap my arms around my waist, ready for what’s coming next. His kill shot.
“You think your scraps of emotion matter? Isaeth was everything. A real woman. You’re nothing but a soft-bellied mistake in someone else’s war. You don’t matter.”
It stings. Worse because I let myself think it just minutes—or was it hours—ago in the cabin, but I stand my ground.
“I don’t want Caziel because he saved me, or because he’s an Ember Heir, or because I’m lonely.
I see him. His silence. His scars. His fire.
His grief. The way he watches the world and burns for it.
That’s why I care. I like who he truly is, and you are not him.
” My voice rises. “Even if he never wants me back, I’ll still mean it.
Because my feelings are mine. They’re not weakness.
They’re not currency. Not bait. And they’re not yours to twist.” I lean in, putting everything I can behind my words. “So. Fuck. Off.”
The forest shudders. The false Caz splinters, flickering in and out of existence like a broken projection. His smile tears across his face, lips and flesh peeling from bone like a horror movie or a bad acid trip. But I keep my eyes steady on his. And then…poof. He’s gone as fast as he appeared.
My feet feel rooted to the ground. No cabin.
No Caziel. No heat pressed against my skin, no arms around my waist. Just the sound of leaves rustling like a whisper at the edge of a breath I haven’t taken yet.
The world feels too quiet. My hands tremble as I press one to my chest, over the place where the pendant hums, steady now.
Assured. It never stopped knowing what was real. I wish I could say the same.
I lower my head and breathe deep, filling my lungs.
One inhale. Then another. The forest smells like shame and cold memory.
Like something that should hurt but doesn’t anymore.
I need to get myself moving, return to the arena, and face whatever comes next.
But for one more second, I sit in the stillness.
“You don’t get to keep me here. I chose me.
” I whisper to the trees, and this time the forest listens.
The trees shift. Open. A path reveals itself, soft, moss-lined, and glowing faintly gold where the flame of Crimson welcomes me back.
My legs shake, my chest aches, but I walk anyway, and I don’t turn back.