Chapter 31 #2
Her gaze lifts from Finnick and snaps to Evangeline, eyes narrowing with sudden intensity. “A well, you say?”
Evangeline nods slowly. “Yes. It was covered in moss. The stones were cracked, and it glowed. Faintly, but… sinister. It wasn’t like any well I’ve ever encountered before. Not that I’m an expert on wells, it’s just this felt different.”
Lady Thalia turns away from the group, her eyes distant as if searching through time for a distant memory. “There’s a story,” she murmurs. “An old one. A warning passed through whispers and fireside tales. I never gave it much thought until now.”
“What kind of story?” Finnick watches his mother with wary curiosity.
She turns back to us, her voice grave. “It was said to be a relic of the Ancients. A source of magic that predates even the fae. Not light or dark, but something else entirely. A neutral force that absorbs intention. It can be used for creation… or devastation. The ‘Wishing Well,’ some called it.”
A cold chill settles over the room.
Lady Thalia continues, “If what Evangeline saw is true, and this well has resurfaced after years of lying dormant… it could be the source of the poison infecting the land.” She places a hand over her heart, concern rippling across her features.
“I’ll need to research it further. There’s an old tome I haven’t touched in decades. It might hold something we can use.”
Niko shifts where he stands, his breath shallow again. His complexion has taken on a worrying pallor. “Good,” he says softly. “I’m glad we’re not starting from nothing.”
“You should rest,” Lady Thalia tells him gently. “You’ve done more than enough for one day.”
He manages a tight smile. “Just for a little while. I’ll be fine.”
He’s not. Every one of us knows it. Even if he doesn’t.
Still, no one argues when he turns and begins walking slowly up the last of the stairs and presumably—hopefully—toward his room.
Evangeline and Finnick flinch with each uneven step, but Niko waves them off with a weary flick of his fingers.
“Go,” he tells us. “Talk. Plan. I just need to lie down for a bit.”
Finnick lingers near the hall, reluctant to leave, but eventually follows Lady Thalia. She pauses at the door, one last glance at her son softening her features. “I’ll return once I’ve found what I’m looking for.”
Then they’re gone, up the stairs and down the hall.
I stand in silence, the firelight from the sconces casting golden shadows across the stone. I watch the hallway Niko disappeared into, a storm of guilt and frustration simmering beneath my calm exterior. I should go, but I can’t get my body to move.
Evangeline moves toward me quietly, her footsteps light. Her presence is calm, nurturing, but I don’t deserve that. Not now.
“Zephyr,” she says, her voice gentle. I hesitate before turning to her slowly. “None of this was your fault.” The words are out, but I can’t find the truth in them.
My jaw tightens, and I look away toward the top of the stairs. “Isn’t it? I insisted we try. That you connect with the Nephilim. If it weren’t for me, neither of you would have been in danger.”
“You weren’t wrong,” she says firmly, stepping into my space.
Her small frame crowds mine, not flinching away from my gaze.
“You were trying to help. You did help. I chose to do this, remember? We wouldn’t have learned anything if you hadn’t pushed.
And Niko made his own decision. He did was out of love for both of us. ”
I can no longer hide the pain in my eyes when I meet Evangeline’s stare again. My walls are crumbling during a weak moment, and she’s there to see it all.
“I was supposed to protect both of you,” I whisper. “Not watch him get hit while I just—stood there.”
“You didn’t just stand there.” She takes my hand gently, brushing her thumb over my knuckles.
“You held me. You shielded me. You made sure I didn’t get hurt.
You did everything right. You’re allowed to grieve.
To be angry. But you’re not allowed to blame yourself for someone else’s bravery.
You aren’t allowed to carry this blame and ice me out.
If you must blame yourself, then I should shoulder some of it too.
But assigning blame isn’t what we need to do now. We need to find a way to fix this.”
I study her like I’ve never seen her before.
Not just the firelight in her hair or the soft curve of her lips, but the steel in her spine, the way she stands firm even when everything around us is falling apart. She speaks to me with a quiet strength I don’t deserve. Not after what happened. And yet… I believe her.
For the first time, I truly hear her.
The silence between us isn’t awkward or cold—it pulses, charged with everything neither of us dares say aloud. I can feel her warmth inches from mine, can see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. If she reached up to kiss me right now, I wouldn’t stop her. Gods help me, I’d let her consume me.
But she doesn’t.
And neither do I.
Because I’m not ready. Because I don’t trust myself to be what she needs. Because Niko—our mate—is lying down the hall, fighting for every breath, and I let him take a hit meant for her. For me.
“I need to take a walk,” I say at last, my voice rough from all the things I’m holding back and not ready to burden her with.
Her gaze searches mine, reading me better than I thought possible. “Will you come back?”
The question stirs something sharp and aching in my chest. I want to promise her everything. My loyalty. My heart. My future.
Instead, I settle on the only truth I know.
“I will.”
I take her hand gently, lifting it to my lips. Her skin is warm, soft, steadying in a way I don’t deserve. I press a kiss to her knuckles in a silent apology, a promise I don’t yet have the words to speak, and then I let her go, brushing past her to the top of the stairs.
The door creaks open, and I step out, walking down the hall until I find the castle exit, leading me into the night.
The air is cool against my face, but it does little to soothe the storm inside me. Behind me, the grounds are quiet, still humming with the scent of magic and the weight of choices we can’t undo.
She’s in there. Alone. Watching the hallway where Niko disappeared. Watching the doorway where I just left. Maybe even watching the window, where the moon keeps its silent vigil over us all.
Something shifted today.
I feel it deep in my bones, like the tremble before a storm breaks. I fear this is just the beginning, but I refuse for this to be our undoing.