CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Later that day, Ezra and Ember walked me back toward House Ignis.
The two of them bickered the whole way, arguing strategy for the upcoming Trials—Ezra insisting on tactical precision while Ember fired back with her usual reckless flair.
Their voices were a constant clash of fire and steel, a noisy, familiar friction that was oddly comforting.
Aether padded beside me, his tail lashing and his golden eyes cutting to me every few steps as if he could sense the storm brewing beneath my skin.
By the time we reached the stairs, my chest already felt tight. I climbed slowly, every step feeling heavier than the last, until finally I pushed open the door to my dorm.
And then it hit me.
His scent.
Smoke, storm-drenched air, and cold shadow.
It clung to the fabrics and the stone like he’d never left, wrapping around me and drowning me in the memory of him.
A sob ripped from my throat before I could stop it.
Ember lingered in the doorway, her earlier fire tempered into something much gentler. She glanced back at Ezra, then at me, her brow furrowed.
“Do you want us to stay?” she asked quietly. “We can stay with you.”
I shook my head, a bone-deep exhaustion settling into my chest. “No. I just… I need a minute. Alone.”
Ember studied me like she hated the answer but respected it. After a beat, she gave a small, reluctant nod.
Ezra stepped closer, his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatpants, those sunset-orange eyes sharp. “We’ll be right next door,” he said, his voice a firm tether. “If you need anything. Anything at all, Ava.”
I huffed a weak, watery laugh. “I’m sure you will be.”
A corner of his mouth lifted in a knowing smirk. Ember rolled her eyes, already turning to head toward her bedroom.
Ezra gave me one of his signature, cocky salutes and followed her down the hall.
Then I slid down the door until I was huddled on the floor, burying my face in my hands as I sobbed.
At first, it was just soundless, broken breaths—the kind that feel like they’re ripping your chest open from the inside.
Then, I reached for him. It was a reflex.
Pure instinct.
I reached for my bond.
And there was nothing.
No warmth.
No shadows brushing like silk against my skin.
No wicked, deep-timbred grin purring in the back of my mind. There was only silence—vast, hollow, and cold, stretching across the continent like a canyon carved into my very soul.
My sobs grew louder, turning into jagged, ugly sounds.
I clawed at the front of Ezra’s hoodie as if I could rip my chest open and find Asher hiding there.
Gods, anything was better than this emptiness.
“Asher,” I whispered into the void, my voice raw and ruined. “Please. Just—something. Give me anything.”
Nothing answered.
The silence felt like its own kind of death.
It was worse than almost losing him to Jeremy, worse than the shadows that had nearly consumed him on the field.
Because this… this felt like being unmade.
Aether padded over, his massive form silhouetted against the moonlight streaming through the window, and lowered himself onto the floor beside me.
He didn't just sit; he curled his entire body around mine, a solid wall of fur and muscle and ancient power.
His tail draped over my legs, grounding me, and he rested his heavy head near my shoulder.
I could feel the low, steady vibration of his breathing, a rhythmic tether to reality.
“I am here,” he murmured through the bond, his golden eyes glowing in the dim light. “The Dark One is gone for now, but the abyss is not empty. You are not alone in the dark, Flame One.”
I reached out, burying my shaking fingers into his thick fur, clinging to him like a liferaft.
His presence steadied me, but it couldn't fill the place Asher had left behind. Nothing could.
Eventually, I forced myself up and drew a bath, sinking into the water until the heat swallowed me whole.
But even there, with my eyes closed, the memories bled through the steam—Asher’s hands on my skin, the water sloshing between us, his voice low and possessive in my ear.
It didn't help.
He was everywhere, etched into the very air of the room. I squeezed my eyes shut, telling myself he was getting the help he needed.
That this was for the best.
That in two weeks, the silence would end.