Chapter 26
Kaia
The motes settle slowly around us, the cavern still humming with whatever just happened.
We stand there in the soft glow — Finn’s hand still warm in mine — and I don’t want to move. Don’t want to break whatever this is.
But then Aspen tilts his head.
“There’s one more,” he says quietly.
I follow his gaze. On the far side of the cavern, half-hidden in shadow, there’s a sixth tunnel. I didn’t notice it before — too caught up in the halls that were blazing to life, too overwhelmed by everything we were learning.
But it’s there. Waiting.
We drift toward it together, the group moving as one without anyone saying a word. Finn’s fingers slip from mine as we walk, but the warmth lingers.
It’s not dark like the others were before they woke up. It’s not waiting. It’s just… nothing. Smooth walls. Bare wood. No carvings. No light. No hum.
We stand in front of the blank hall for a long moment.
I move toward it, curious, and my shadows refuse to follow. They pool at my feet, tense, unwilling. Bob’s edges sharpen like he’s warning me. Mouse chirps once — short, clipped. Don’t.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
Nobody answers. Nobody knows.
Finn steps closer. His chaos magic goes quiet — I can feel it through the bond, the sudden stillness where there’s usually static. Like it’s listening. Waiting for something.
A single mote drifts toward the tunnel. Hovers at the threshold. Then retreats.
“It’s not empty,” Aspen says quietly. “It’s dormant.”
We all stare at it for a long moment. The blank space where something should be. The unwritten hall.
Whatever it’s waiting for, it’s not us. Not yet.
I turn away first. There’s nothing for us there — not tonight.
And honestly? I’m exhausted. We all are. Days on the road, sleeping in shifts, eating whatever we could find. The corruption pressing against us constantly. Callum’s broken prophecies. The weight of everything we just learned in these halls.
I look at the bathing spring in the center of the cavern. Crystal-clear water swirling with pink and white motes. Steam rising gently from the surface.
Gods, I want to be clean.
“I’m getting in,” I say.
Every head turns toward me.
Torric’s eyebrows rise. Aspen’s mouth twitches. Kieran goes very still. Malrik’s expression doesn’t change, but something shifts in his eyes — something heated, something hungry.
And Finn—
Finn grins. Wide and shameless and so completely him that my chest aches.
“Finally,” he says. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten what water was for. You know, besides drinking. And crying. And—”
“Finn.”
“—dramatic reveals where someone emerges glistening and backlit like a—”
“Finn.”
He holds up his hands, still grinning. “I’m just saying. The view’s about to improve significantly.”
My face burns. “Turn around. All of you.”
They do.
But not before I catch the smirks. Every single one of them. Even Darian, though his is more uncertain — like he’s not sure he’s allowed to want this but can’t help it anyway.
Kieran is the last to turn, his gold eyes lingering on mine for a beat too long before he gives me his back.
I wait until they’re all facing away. Six broad backs. Six sets of shoulders. Six men who have seen me fight, bleed, break, and rise. Who have held me. Kissed me. Loved me in ways I’m still learning to accept.
And now they’re all going to see me naked. All at once.
Great. Fine. This is fine.
I strip quickly — or try to. My fingers fumble with the laces of my shirt, clumsy with exhaustion and something else. Nerves. Anticipation. The knowledge that the moment I say they can turn around, everything changes.
The cool air hits my skin as I pull off my shirt. Then my pants. Then everything else.
I don’t look at them. I don’t let myself.
I slip into the water.
It’s perfect. Warm without being hot, silky against my skin, the motes swirling around me like curious fireflies. The tension in my shoulders starts to unwind immediately. I sink lower, letting the water rise to my collarbone, and finally let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“Okay,” I say. “You can turn around.”
They do.
And the heat in their eyes nearly drowns me.
Torric turns first. His gaze rakes over me — what he can see above the waterline — and his jaw tightens. The fire rune on his chest pulses once, bright and hungry even through his shirt.
Aspen is next, his ice-blue eyes softening even as something darker flickers beneath the surface. His attention lingers on my shoulders, my throat, the wet hair clinging to my neck.
Kieran’s gold eyes find mine and hold. He doesn’t look anywhere else. Just my face. Like he’s memorizing me. Like he’s afraid to look away.
Malrik’s gaze is slower. More deliberate. He takes his time, letting his eyes travel from my face to my shoulders to the water where it meets my skin. His expression stays controlled, but I can feel the want radiating through the bond like a banked fire.
Finn is grinning again, but it’s softer now. Less joke, more wonder. Like he can’t believe he gets to be here. Gets to see this.
And Darian—
Darian looks like he’s about to combust. His cheeks are flushed, his magic flickering at his fingertips, and he’s very carefully not looking directly at me while also absolutely looking directly at me.
“Well?” I manage, my voice coming out rougher than intended. “Are you getting in or just going to stand there?”
Finn’s grin widens. “Oh, we’re getting in. But fair’s fair, Trouble.”
I blink. “What?”
“You made us turn around.” He reaches for the hem of his shirt. “We’re not turning around for you.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Finn goes first.
Because of course he does.
He pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid motion, and I forget how to breathe.
I’ve seen Finn shirtless before. Caught glimpses. Stolen glances when I thought no one was looking. But there’s something different about watching him strip with full intention, knowing I’m watching, wanting me to watch.
He’s lean — not bulky like Torric, not carved like Malrik. But there’s strength in the lines of him, definition in his arms and shoulders and the planes of his stomach. Freckles scattered across his chest like constellations.
He catches me staring and winks.
“Like what you see?”
I don’t answer. I can’t. My mouth is too dry.
He kicks off his boots, shoves down his pants, and—
Gods.
I look away. I try to. But my eyes have other ideas, and I catch a glimpse of narrow hips, strong thighs, and— and—
Linda drifts to the edge of the pool. If shadows could fan themselves, she would be.
I sink a little lower in the water.
Finn laughs, low and warm, and slides into the water beside me. Close enough that I can feel the heat of him even through the warmth of the spring.
“Your turn to be red, Trouble,” he murmurs near my ear. “I like it.”
Two Eds settle at the pool’s edge. Watching.
Great. We have an audience.
Torric goes next.
He doesn’t make a show of it like Finn did. He just… strips. Efficient. Practical. Like he’s done this a thousand times and can’t be bothered with modesty.
But there’s nothing practical about the way he looks.
He’s huge. I knew that. But seeing all of him, bare and golden in the soft light of the cavern — the breadth of his shoulders, the thick muscles of his arms and chest, the fire rune blazing over his heart — it’s different. More.
His body is a weapon. Built for violence. Scarred from a lifetime of it.
Bob puffs up at the pool’s edge, posture going even more rigid than usual. Like he’s trying to match Torric’s energy. It’s both adorable and terrifying at the same time.
“Competition, Bob?” Finn murmurs beside me. “Bold move.”
I choke on nothing.
When Torric’s eyes meet mine, there’s something soft underneath all that ferocity. Something that’s just for me.
He steps into the water, and the level rises noticeably. He settles next to me, close enough to touch if I reached out.
“Breathe, sunshine,” he rumbles. “You’re turning purple.”
I exhale shakily. He smirks.
Four more Eds drift to the pool’s edge. The audience is growing.
I sink lower.
Aspen is quieter about it.
He undresses with his back half-turned, like he’s giving me the choice of whether to look. But I look. Of course I look.
He’s beautiful in a way that’s almost unfair — lean and pale, his white-blond hair still perfectly styled even after days on the road, the water rune on his arm pulsing soft blue. There’s a stillness to him even now, a calm that makes me want to curl into him and never move.
When he turns, I see the scars on his chest. Old ones. From their father. From the brands that made them what they are.
Patricia’s notebook flickers. Documenting. Always documenting.
“She’s taking notes,” Finn whispers. “On all of us. For posterity.”
“Shut up, Finn.”
But then Patricia turns — turns — like she wants me to see.
My eyes catch the edge of the page.
Tick marks.
Evenly spaced.
Perfectly straight.
Like a ruler.
Like a measuring stick.
My brain supplies the horrifying implication a full second before my face goes nuclear.
“Patricia,” I whisper, scandalized, “no.”
Patricia’s notebook flickers again.
Oh gods. She is. She’s literally measuring them.
Aspen steps into the water beside Torric, catching my expression. He glances at Patricia. Glances at me. Glances back at Patricia.
“…Should I be concerned?” he asks.
Finn nearly chokes trying not to laugh.
Finnick does a little flip near Linda, clearly showing off. More Eds gather. I’ve lost count now.
The pool’s edge is starting to look crowded.
Kieran takes longer.
He stands at the edge of the pool, golden eyes fixed on some middle distance, and I watch his throat work as he swallows.
“Kieran,” I say softly. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to,” he says. His voice is rough. “I just…”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.
He’s been alive for centuries. Loved me for most of them. And somehow, this moment — stripping down in front of me, vulnerable and bare — feels like more than any of that.
He undresses slowly. Deliberately. Like he’s giving himself to me piece by piece.
And I watch every second of it.
His body is lean, elegant, built for speed rather than brute strength. Pale skin marked with faint silver lines — old scars, old battles, old lifetimes.
Mouse settles at the pool’s edge, tail curling around his paws. Watching with ancient, knowing eyes. The Eds part for him like he’s royalty.
Because he is. Shadow royalty. Obviously.
When Kieran finally steps into the water, there’s a tremor in his hands that he can’t quite hide.
I reach out without thinking and catch his fingers under the surface.
He squeezes once. Doesn’t let go.
“This is very romantic,” Finn stage-whispers. “I’m not crying. You’re crying.”
“Finn,” Torric growls.
“What? I’m supportive.”
Malrik goes next to last.
He meets my eyes as he reaches for his shirt, and there’s a challenge in his gaze. Watch me, it says. I dare you.
So I do.
He pulls the fabric over his head, and I stop breathing again.
He’s carved from marble. That’s the only way to describe it. Every muscle defined, shadows pooling in the hollows of his hips, his chest, his stomach. Dark hair falls across his forehead as he moves, and I want to push it back. Want to trace every line of him with my fingers. My tongue.
He takes his time with his pants. Knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Knows and enjoys it, the bastard.
Walter drifts lazily overhead, pulsing with starlight, completely unbothered.
Every other shadow at the pool’s edge has gone still. Even Bob. Even Finnick.
The Eds are practically vibrating.
Finn leans in, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re drooling, Trouble.”
“I am not—”
“You absolutely are. It’s okay.” He pauses. “I am too.”
My face burns hotter. Finn just grins and settles back, looking far too pleased with himself.
When Malrik finally steps into the water, he positions himself directly across from me. Close enough that our knees could touch if either of us moved.
“Enjoying the show?” he asks, voice low enough that only I can hear.
“Shut up,” I manage.
He smiles. Slow and devastating.
I sink so low in the water my chin touches the surface.
Darian is last.
And he looks like he’s about to die.
His face is bright red, his magic crackling at his fingertips, and he’s staring at the water like it personally offended him.
“Darian,” Finn calls, still grinning. “The water’s not going to bite.”
“I know that,” Darian snaps. But he doesn’t move.
“Do you want us to turn around?” I ask gently.
He hesitates. Then shakes his head, jaw tightening with something like determination.
“No,” he says. “No, I— I can do this.”
He undresses with his back to us, which is somehow worse because now I’m watching the muscles of his shoulders flex, the curve of his spine, the way his hands shake slightly as he pushes down his pants.
Carl tries to sneak closer to investigate and gets yanked back by Steve, who immediately trips into Carl and sends them both tumbling into a heap at the water’s edge.
When Darian finally turns and steps into the water, he’s flushed all the way down his chest.
He sinks low immediately, water up to his chin, and refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.
“See?” Finn says cheerfully. “That wasn’t so hard.”
Darian makes a sound like a dying animal.
And then I finally take stock of the pool’s edge.
It’s packed.
Bob stands at attention, still puffed up from his Torric-competition moment.
Patricia hovers beside him, notebook flickering — I refuse to look at that page again.
Finnick is doing lazy victory laps in the air.
Linda radiates smug approval. Carl and Steve are still in a heap, arguing silently.
Mouse sits at the head of the formation like a disappointed king surveying his chaotic subjects.
Walter bobs lazily at the far end, pulsing with starlight, completely unbothered by everything.
And the Eds—
The Eds are everywhere.
Dozens of them. Maybe more. Crowded along the waterline like spectators at a sporting event. Some of them are floating on the water now, little dark shapes drifting closer, clustering at the edges of our group.
“Are they…” Torric squints at them. “Are they watching us?”
“They’re always watching,” Finn says, sounding far too delighted. “Hey, Eds. Enjoying the show?”
Several of them bob enthusiastically.
“I hate this,” Darian mutters, sinking even lower.
“I don’t,” Finn says. “This is the best day of my life.”
I drop my face into my hands.
The water is warm. The company is… a lot. The shadows are judging us.
And somehow, impossibly, I start to laugh.