Chapter 16
MAUG
The tunnels welcome me like an old wound—dark, damp, unrelenting.
I drag my body through the narrowing vein of stone, claws scraping against the volcanic grit, breath tearing raw from my throat.
Each step echoes with the sting tail’s death.
Its blood clings to my skin, tacky and sour, congealing in the bends of my elbows and the grooves of my palms.
But it’s not the sting tail I keep seeing. It’s her.
Her eyes.
Wide. Bright. Unafraid.
She looked at me.
Not like the others do. Not like prey does, or like those marines with their twitchy triggers and hate stitched into their uniforms. No—she looked at me like she saw me.
And I didn’t flinch. I couldn’t.
I should’ve let her die. I know that. Would’ve been cleaner. Safer. Less complicated. But when I heard her scream—that jagged sound, half-caught in her throat—I moved before I could stop myself.
Now I sit in the belly of the world, shivering as the last heat of battle leaks out of my bones.
What the fuck did I do?
The wind shifts. Carries the scent of iron and ozone and… her. Still clinging to me. Under my nails. In the cracks of my knuckles. Her scent isn’t just in the air—it’s in me.
I slam my fist into the cave wall.
The rock cracks. Dust falls.
No good ever came from this.
No good ever came from wanting.
My people have a word for it—jalshagar. It doesn’t translate cleanly. Not into human tongue. But it’s more than desire. More than bonding. It’s a tether. A curse. A promise that can’t be unspoken.
I remember the last time I felt it. I remember what it cost.
And I remember the silence that followed.
I won’t let that happen again.
I press deeper into the rock, away from the entrance, away from the sky. The thermal springs hiss as I pass, their breath thick and sulfurous. I dip my hands into one, scrubbing at the dried sting tail blood until my skin is raw. It doesn’t come off.
Nothing does.
I sit back against the wall and close my eyes, but sleep won’t come. Her voice plays over and over in my head.
“Wait.”
Just one word. One syllable.
But it wrapped around me like a rope.
And gods help me… I wanted to obey.
I never obey.
Not since the day they cast me out.
But her…
Her voice didn’t demand. It asked.
That’s worse. That’s so much worse.
Because I wanted to answer.
I open my eyes. Stare into the dark.
She’s in there now.
In my blood.
In my bones.
And no matter how deep I crawl into this mountain, I know I won’t be able to dig her out.
The canyon wind cuts cold across my skin as I climb, talons digging into crumbling rock, the chill threading through my fur like needles.
I move without reason, driven by something restless and half-formed, like a splinter under the flesh I can’t dig out.
The sting tail blood’s long since dried.
The bruises from the fight faded. But the weight of her stare… that hasn’t gone anywhere.
I crest the ridge just as dusk kisses the canyon, turning the world copper and shadow. From this high, I can see everything. The ragged fence line the marines think keeps them safe. The smoldering lights of the camp like dying stars. The empty ledge where she used to sit.
She’s not there.
Of course she’s not.
Why would she come back after what she saw?
What I am?
I settle into the rocks anyway, easing my bulk down until I’m tucked in tight with the jagged stone at my back and the cliff falling away beneath my feet. I fold my arms and try to still my breathing. Old habits. Soldier habits. They die hard, even after exile. Even after everything.
Meditation.
That’s what I used to call this.
Center the breath. Let the mind drift. Release the noise.
But there’s no release tonight.
Only her voice, echoing through me like thunder in the bones.
“Wait.”
I grit my teeth, jaw flexing with the memory.
I should’ve turned. Should’ve left her with her scream half-formed, let the sting tail finish what the marines never could.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
And now—
Now, I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing anymore.
I catch myself glancing at the ledge again. Still empty. I tell myself I’m relieved. That her absence means she’s smart. Alive. Safe.
But I lie.
Because a small, stupid part of me wanted her to come back.
The same part that left her the fang. That laid the fur so she wouldn’t bruise her skin on the stone.
I stare down at my hands, claws curled into fists. Once, these hands built weapons. Tore lives apart in the name of purpose. Honor. A word like ash now.
Then they destroyed everything.
And yet…
Yet they laid out comfort for her.
No orders. No reward.
Just… her.
I slam a fist against the stone beside me. Dust coughs upward. A fissure spiders through the rock.
“You’re losing it,” I mutter. My voice is gravel in the wind.
She’s not mine to protect.
She never was.
And yet I listen for her voice in the dark like it’s a call I can’t help but answer.
I breathe deep, trying to still the tremor running under my skin. I inhale stone and lichen and the faint memory of her—floral, earthy, alive.
I close my eyes and try again.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Silence.
But she fills it anyway.
I remember the way her hand lifted—slow, unsure, not reaching in fear but offering. A gesture that demanded nothing.
And gods damn me… I wanted to reach back.
What would I even say if I could?
What words bridge this chasm between what I am and what she is?
I try to imagine it. Her standing here, her eyes wide and curious, arms folded against the cold. I’d say something like, You shouldn’t be here. But she’d just smirk and stay anyway. She’s stubborn like that.
Too stubborn.
Too alive.
She doesn’t belong in a place like this, where the ground itself eats the careless and the wind whispers secrets meant to stay buried.
And yet she survives.
Thrives, even.
I admire it.
I fear it.
Because something in me responds to her strength. To her fire.
To her.
A shadow shifts near the edge of the ledge, and my head snaps up before I can stop it. For half a heartbeat, I swear—
But no. It’s only a trick of the light. A flurry of dust on the wind.
I exhale, low and bitter.
Hope is a knife with a dull edge. It doesn’t kill fast. It cuts slow.
And I’m bleeding.