CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The girl was gone. Of course she was. She had seen it—the way his skull split, the blood bursting against the stone, the sound it made when his skull cracked.
She had seen me, and that was enough. And I had seen her, the fear in her face, the kind people don’t know how to hide.
It didn’t matter that I was tired. That I could barely stand.
That I hadn’t asked for any of it, or that I’d only tried to help.
None of it mattered. All any rational person saw was the aftermath.
Not that I was small, or that I looked like I couldn’t hurt a fly.
They didn’t see a girl.
They saw death.
And when people see death, they run.
My body moved before I could stop it, legs already carrying me down the same path she had taken.
Behind me, Will’s voice cut through the silence. “Wait!”
Then Aran’s followed, louder, bitter. “Fucking hel. Fine. We’ll take care of it. Like usual.”
His voice chased me down the street, heavy with the kind of rage he only used when everything had gone to shit and he was too tired to deal with it.
I should have stayed. I should have helped Will and Aran drag the body out of sight, wipe the wall, scrub the blood off the stones.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
I found the girl in a park. She hadn’t made it far. It was too open, too exposed. A man walked past with a dog, and kids were playing by a swing set. Everything looked normal. But it wasn’t.
She stood near the center, shaking, turning in slow circles like she didn’t know where to go.
Her eyes moved between the street, the trees, the swings, every direction seemed like a threat.
In the end, she didn’t run. She just stopped, and up close, the damage was clearer.
Bones pressed sharp beneath paper-thin skin.
Angry scratches covered her legs, some fresh and bleeding, others crusted over.
Her dress clung to her body, filthy and torn, and her hair hung in damp strands across her cheeks and throat.
She didn’t meet my eyes. Didn’t seem to see me at all. Just stood there, locked in place, barely breathing. I stepped closer. One step at a time. Careful. Hands raised. I didn’t want to scare her more than she already was.
She was barely holding herself together.
So was I.
“Please…” Her voice cracked as she finally looked at me. “Don’t hurt me.”
It hit harder than I expected. Not just the words, but the way she said them. Soft, broken, certain. She’d seen what I’d done. She didn’t know it wasn’t meant for her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” I said, throat tight. “I swear. I’m sorry if I scared you. I just... I wanted to help.”
She blinked at me, slow and confused, like the words didn’t make sense to her.
Then her knees buckled, and I caught her before she hit the ground.
She collapsed into me without resistance.
No flinch, no fight, just folded into my arms like her body couldn’t hold itself up any longer.
She felt weightless in a way that scared me, not soft or delicate, just empty.
Like if I let go, she might float away with the wind.
“Where did you come from?” I asked. “Why was he chasing you?”
She wiped at her face, but it didn’t help. The tears kept coming.
“We ran,” she said. “Me and my friend. We were trapped. I don’t know how long… but we ran when we had the chance.”
Her voice caught.
“They got her.” The words broke her. She curled in on herself, knees drawn tight, arms wrapped around her body like she was trying to hold the pieces together.
“And I left her,” she whimpered, rocking forward.
“I left her there.” Her fists pressed against her skull like she wanted to tear the memory out.
“He was going to take me back.” Her voice cracked again, and she reached for me. Grabbed my hands and locked her eyes on mine.
“You saved me,” she said. “You saved me. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”
Before I could say anything, she collapsed into me again.
Buried her face in my chest like I was something good.
I didn’t know what to do with that. But I let her.
I let her hold on. When she finally pulled away, her cheeks were soaked, her eyes red and shining.
But there was something else in them too—something I hadn’t expected.
Hope.
“How did you do that?”
The words came out small and unsure, like just asking might get her hurt.
She pressed on, her voice thin but steady. “I mean... that really happened, right? I saw it.”
“I don’t know,” I said at last. It was the only truth I had.
“You have to help me save her,” she said, her voice thin and breaking.
My chest pulled tight. “Your friend?”
She nodded. “I know where she is. I can take you.”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came. Then I heard footsteps, hard and fast, hammering the ground behind me.
“Kera!”
I turned toward the sound just as Will and Aran came into view, running across the grass, eyes wide.
“What happened?” Will asked, breath catching. “Who is that?”
“If you don’t start talking, I’m going to lose my godsdamned mind,” Aran added. “What the hel is going on?”
“That man,” I murmured. “He was hurting her.”
Will stepped closer, blocking out the rest of the world. His eyes searched mine, then drifted lower, to my cheek. His expression twisted, like something about me hurt to look at. Then, gently, he raised his sleeve and wiped the blood from my skin.
“You can’t keep doing this,” he said. “Running straight into danger—”
“Why not?” I snapped. “Danger finds me no matter what I do.”
Beside me, the girl curled tighter into herself, pressing her palms over her ears. She peeked up at the sound of their voices, then recoiled, her whole body tensing as she caught sight of the boys.
“They won’t hurt you,” I whispered quickly, leaning closer. “They’re not like him. They’re my friends. Harmless, I promise.”
“At least tell us before you run off to rescue another stray,” Aran continued. “A heads up would be nice.”
“She’s not a stray.” I glanced down at her. ”I’m Kera, what’s your name?”
Her lips moved slowly, the word catching on her breath before it made it out. “Kalani,” she whispered.
I nodded once, then looked back up at the boys. “That’s Will. And that’s Aran.”
I turned fully to Aran, heat rising in my chest. “And he doesn’t tell me every time he sees something shiny and sneaks off, so why should I have to?”
Aran blinked. His jaw twitched like he wanted to argue, but the words didn’t come.
“No,” he muttered. “But I don’t come back soaked in blood.”
Kalani stirred beside me.
“Kera,” she repeated, tasting the name like it unlocked something. Her brows pulled together. “That sounds… familiar. Why does that sound familiar?”
“It does?” I asked softly, but my chest was already tightening.
She looked up at me, and then I saw it. The moment it landed.
Her eyes widened. “You’re Licia’s friends.”
The world tilted.
“What?” I breathed. My voice cracked.
Beside me, Aran stiffened. “Did she just say—?”
He glanced between me and Will, as if trying to confirm he wasn’t hearing things.
“You know Licia?” I asked, the words tumbling out in pieces. “Licia Warlin?”
Kalani nodded. Once. Then again, faster. “She told me about you. All of you,” she said. “She still dreams of you, Kera. She used to talk about you all the time. About Will. Aran. Everything you did together. She never forgot.”
“We never forgot her either,” Will added.
Kalani’s eyes brightened, her voice picking up speed, like something in her had been cracked open. “It makes sense now. That’s why she ran when she did. That’s why she fought so hard. She must’ve felt you coming. She must have known you were close.”
I blinked. “She ran?”
Kalani nodded. “She planned it. I just followed. But the guards caught us. She fought them off so I could get away.”
The breath left me. A dull ache bloomed in my chest. She got caught… because she was trying to find me.
“She used to tell me stories,” Kalani whispered. “About Vestance. About the time Will fell through a frozen lake and you saved him. About the paintings she made of you. And the doom.”
That word stopped me cold.
“The doom?”
“That’s what she called it. The fire. The screaming. The smoke.”
The sacking of Novil. She had seen it. Somehow, she had seen it.
Will exhaled, rubbing at his eyes like it took effort just to stay standing. “So, you know where she is?” he asked finally. His voice had steadied, but the look in his eyes hadn’t.
Kalani hesitated. I could feel her body tense beside me. “It’s called the theatre,” she said. “But it’s not really a theatre. It’s… it’s horrible. A prison.”
”The theatre,” Will echoed, giving Aran a look.
“Looks like we finally got ourselves a guide,” Aran smirked.
Kalani looked like she hadn’t eaten in days, so we took her back to the restaurant before asking anything more. She wasn’t just my stray anymore. She was ours. And we were going to take care of her. She was Licia’s friend, and that made her, however indirectly, one of us.
Inside, nothing had changed. Low murmurs still drifted from the scattered tables.
A few diners lingered over half-finished stew.
I used to think the people of Faerwyn didn’t care about outsiders, but now I saw it was worse.
They didn’t care about each other either.
They’d carved “mind your own business” into their bones.
We returned to our table. The food was still there, untouched.
Kalani slid into a chair, slow and cautious, arms wrapped tight around herself like she was bracing for something that hadn’t ended yet.
Aran dropped across from her, Will beside him.
I stayed next to her. Kalani didn’t speak when the serving girl arrived, so I pushed the bread basket toward her.
She hesitated, then slowly tore off a piece and nibbled at it, like she was trying to remember how to eat.
“Do you need anything else?” I asked gently. “Clothes? Coin?”
“Do you have somewhere to go?” Will added. “Anywhere to stay?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m not from here.”
“You can stay with us,” I said, the words out before I had time to doubt them. “As long as you need.”
“I just want to get back,” she whispered. “I shouldn’t have left.”
Then, without missing a beat, Aran leaned back in his chair and muttered, “Speaking of that… where are we staying?”
“I just want to get back,” Kalani whispered. “I shouldn’t have left.”
The table fell quiet. She tore off another piece of bread. Then finally, her voice broke through again.
“So Licia is at this theatre?” Will asked, trying to steer the conversation back to something I could handle.
Kalani hesitated. “I hope so,” she said. “Unless—”
Aran stepped in, his tone hardening. “Unless what?”
Kalani dropped her gaze, fingers tugging at the frayed hem of her dress.
“It’s probably nothing...” she whispered. “She’s there.”