TWENTY-FIVE #2
“See you in the morning Brink, sorry again to disturb you so late,” Amelia said quietly with a small wave.
Brinkley swallowed a sip of his tea, looking after them with that same curious look. “Never disturbing to see your gorgeous face. Sleep well. I’ll set the couch up before I head to bed.”
With a grateful nod, Silas followed Amelia up the passageway and into a darkened, quiet room.
It was just as she remembered it. A small but comfortable space, with a sloped ceiling and a single window that overlooked the trees surrounding the outskirts of East Town.
A worn wooden dresser stood against the far wall, a few unlit candles scattered across its surface, wax pooling at their base.
The bed was small but soft, and the same faded quilt she had used all those years ago still covered it.
She sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed to peel off her boots. Silas leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room as if trying to picture her younger self here, hiding away from the world.
“So,” he said at last, voice quiet, “you’ve stayed here before?”
Amelia glanced up. “For a while. Brinkley was good to me when I had nowhere else to go and had no one I could trust.”
Silas nodded, and though he didn’t say it, she could see the unspoken thought in his expression. I wish I had known you then.
She swallowed, suddenly too tired to unpack that. Instead, she shifted on the bed, patting the space beside her. “Sit. You’re making the room feel smaller by looming.”
He laughed softly but obeyed, dropping onto the mattress beside her. For a moment, they sat in silence, listening to the quiet crackle of the fire reaching them from down the hall.
Then, Silas exhaled. “Midnight’s coming.”
Amelia closed her eyes for a beat. “I know. It always does.”
She didn’t need to say how exhausted she was, how much she wished to lay back and close her eyes, find the oblivion of sleep. Her heart still pounded from their escape, from the violent reminder of how much danger they were in.
She looked at him in the dim light. His face was shadowed, features drawn. “We should talk about what happened.”
Silas gave a humourless chuckle. “Which part?”
“All of it,” she said. “Those weird people in the Sanctum. Demetrius. Your mother.”
On the way to Brinkley’s cottage, Silas had told her what he had learnt from the moment he had been taken in Ivory City. At the mention of his mother, Silas’ jaw tightened. He ran a hand through his hair, the movement slow, weary. “She thinks she’s doing the right thing.”
Amelia considered him, noting the way his fingers curled in his lap. “That doesn’t mean her actions are okay, that they don’t…hurt.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and when he looked at her, his eyes were dark with something unreadable. “I know.”
Amelia hesitated, then shifted to face him. “Finley, they weren’t just keeping you prisoner. I heard them call you a ‘vessel’.”
His lips pressed into a thin line. “I know.”
“They were going to sacrifice you!” Her words shook, the seriousness truly hitting home for the position they were in. The elements of the unknown were haunting.
“I know .” His voice was sharp now, the words laced with frustration. He rubbed a hand over his face. “You shouldn’t have come for me. You put yourself in so much danger.”
Her brows creased. “What do you mean? I wasn’t just going to let them take you.”
His hand dropped away, meeting her gaze, something flickering in his expression. “It means they don’t want you . They only wanted me…you could—” He cut himself off and shook his head, eyes falling shut. “—You could get out of all this. This could be over for you.”
She gave him a flat look. “You’re kidding, right?”
Silas scoffed, shaking his head. “Kidding is my default setting, but not this time, Winslow.”
“So, what?” she pushed, her exhaustion making her tone sharper than intended. “You expect me to just…let them have you? Use you for some experiment to fit their own agenda?”
He ran his tongue along his teeth, his hands tightening into fists on his knees.
“It’s not just their agenda, it’s everyone—” He broke off, exhaling roughly.
“You know, I felt you coming. I knew you were close before you even stepped foot inside that room. I could feel your anger, and I…” He clenched his jaw.
“…I was awed but also terrified. You shouldn’t have put yourself at risk for me. ”
She stared at him, heart beating a little faster. “Finley…”
He shook his head, looking away. “We barely got out of there. He said we have until the full moon comes again, that if we don’t complete this sacrifice…this ritual, that we’ll run out of time. There’re so many answers we still don’t have. We don’t know what we’re doing.”
Amelia inhaled slowly, letting the moment settle before nodding. “No. But we know more than we did before, and we can use that.”
Silas’ gaze moved back to her.
She straightened, voice steadying. “Every pair bonded before us failed. The last ones had tried to make the sacrifice, and it didn’t work—so perhaps that’s the wrong answer.
We need to find out what went wrong for them.
They were missing something crucial, and we need to figure out what that is, or…
” She trailed off, but they both knew how the sentence ended.
We’ll be lost to the Midnight Realm, just like them.
Silas dragged a hand through his hair again. “No pressure.”
A dry laugh escaped her. “None at all.”
He sighed, tipping his head back to stare up at the ceiling. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Midnight drew closer. She could feel it, that faint hum beneath her skin, the bond like a wire stretched too tight.
Silas felt it too. She could see it in the way his fingers tapped idly against his thigh, restless. Finally, he looked at her again, softer this time.
“You should sleep. I’ll stay awake and come to you before the pull, hopefully you sleep through it.”
Her heart squeezed at the offer, her throat tightening as she nodded, trying to convince herself it was her tiredness making her want to cry. Silas hadn’t moved, so she reached out, hesitated, then lightly covered his hand with hers. He went very still.
They had not had time to discuss what happened before they had been ambushed. The promise of…something. Amelia didn’t know what he wanted anymore, after all that had happened afterwards.
It seemed unnatural, to concern herself with such things considering the ordeal that had followed.
Yet she had to admit, she was finding it difficult not to glance at his mouth and daydream about what those moments would turn into if they were not running on borrowed time.
The echoes of their heated moments already felt like a lifetime ago, like it had happened in a dream rather than real life.
She wanted to know what it would be like.
To be with him without barriers, without fear… without the bond.
Amelia blinked, realising she was blushing, body warming. She looked resolutely away.
“You’re not alone in this,” she murmured. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
Silas’ fingers curled slightly under hers, holding on for just a moment before he nodded. “Together.”
Then, with what seemed like great reluctance, he pulled away, standing. “I’ll be down the hall. Try to get some rest.”
She watched him go, chest feeling heavier than before.
After everything, she wasn’t sure if they were any closer to saving themselves, or if they were only falling deeper into something they would never escape.