9. Chapter 9 #2
Want. In a girl who'd broken the world. While people choked on grey and the Void ate the horizon and Eryndor bled through his bandage for a family that included me for reasons I couldn't fathom—I sat here wanting.
Like it was something I was owed. Like I'd earned a place in this circle instead of blown a hole through every circle I'd ever touched.
The silence stretched until Serenya cleared her throat.
"We should sleep." She tucked the Codex into her satchel, all brisk hands and careful focus. "Long day tomorrow. Sensorium Wood won't be kind to us exhausted."
Right. Sleep. The thing I'd been deliberately not thinking about.
I glanced at Eryndor. He was still staring at the fire, but I caught the slight tension in his shoulders. He'd been not thinking about it too.
"So." Maxx had recovered enough to find his grin again, though it looked more fragile than usual. "How exactly does this work? Do they spoon? Is there a rotation? Should I avert my eyes or—"
"Maxx." Serenya's voice carried warning.
"What? It's a legitimate logistical question. The tether demands contact. Sleep requires lying down. The math is—"
"If you say 'the math' one more time tonight," Eryndor said quietly, "I will make you solve equations with broken fingers."
Maxx mimed zipping his lips. But he was watching us with undisguised curiosity as Serenya laid out two bedrolls. Side by side. Close enough that the edges overlapped.
My stomach dropped.
"Healer's orders," Serenya said, not quite meeting my eyes. "You need to recharge through the night or you'll wake up drained. This is the most efficient—"
"I know." My voice came out flat. "I know what it is."
Serenya grabbed her bedding and carried it to the far side of the fire. She dropped it between Maxx's and Dreadscale's like the spot had been waiting for her. No hesitation. No glance back.
There was space on my left, Eryndor didn’t exactly need both my sides. She knew that. Every night since we were fourteen, her bedroll went next to mine. Her breathing was the last sound before sleep. Her shoulder was what my hand found when the dark got too heavy.
Maxx shifted his bedroll three inches and made room, adjusting the shape of his little corner of the world as if it had always been meant to include her.
And me? I was standing there like an idiot, staring at two bedrolls and a six-foot leash, abandoned by my best friend for a better offer.
"This is medical," I said. To myself. To him. To anyone listening.
"Noted," he replied. That word again. Giving nothing away.
I lowered myself onto the bedroll. The ground was cold through the fabric. I lay on my side, facing away from the empty space beside me, and waited.
A moment later, I felt him settle behind me. Not touching—not yet—but close enough that his warmth bled across the gap between us. Close enough that every inhale brought me the smell of steel and a brewing thunderstorm.
The tether hummed. Content.
I stared at the darkness beyond the fire's reach and tried to remember how to breathe normally.
Then the flames collapsed inward. Sucked down into the pit like a massive beast had inhaled them—a sharp, violent pull toward the center. For half a heartbeat, there was nothing. Just blackened logs and empty air where fire should be.
Then it erupted back. Orange and roaring, twice as bright as before, settling into a normal crackle like nothing had happened.
I sat up. "Did you—"
"Yes." Eryndor's voice was tight.
Across the camp, Maxx’s arm shot in front of Serenya protectively. Dreadscale rolled to his side, his massive frame shielding her from the flickering light.
No one spoke.
"Well," Maxx said finally, his voice deliberately light. "In case we forgot, the world's still ending. Nice of reality to send a reminder."
I didn't need the reminder. I was the reminder.
"Sleep," Dreadscale rumbled, his gaze finally leaving the flames. "The Void does not tire. We do."
The others settled back into their bedding. The fire crackled, behaving itself now, as if nothing had happened.
I lay back down. The cold seeped through the fabric again.
A warm, calloused hand closed around mine in the dark. Not holding—just there. Fingers resting against my palm.
Recharging. Medical. Survival.
I didn't pull away.
I told myself it was because of the tether. Because Serenya had ordered it. Because we needed to be strong for whatever waited in the Sensorium Wood.
I told myself a lot of things.
His thumb brushed across my knuckles. Once. Just a fleeting touch.
It was such a small thing. That was what got me. Nothing dramatic, nothing that required a response—just his thumb, moving like he wasn't even sure he'd done it. Like tenderness was a risk he was trying out in the dark where no one could see.
A small betrayal moved through my chest, and I let it.
I closed my eyes and pretended I didn't feel the heat spreading through my chest. Pretended my heart wasn't beating faster. Pretended this was still something I hated.
The fire crackled.
The tether purred.
And somewhere in the darkness, reality held its breath.