Chapter 1 #2
His eyes flicked to my jacket, and I could see the question forming before he even spoke.
I crouched beside him and slowly unzipped the old denim, careful not to let the bread fall apart. The loaf was still warm at its core, steam faint in the chill. His eyes widened, lips parting in disbelief.
“Is that…?”
I nodded, pulling it out like it was gold.
“Burned on the bottom,” I muttered. “But it’s whole.”
Finn looked at it like it was a miracle, his throat working as he swallowed hard. He didn’t reach for it right away—he never did. Not before he made sure I was fed.
“Eat first,” he said.
“Finn,” I began.
“Elira.” He said flatly, “You haven’t eaten in what, days?”
A week, but who was counting?
“Finn, you need it more…”
He sat back, watching me stubbornly.
I rolled my eyes and tore off a chunk, shoving it into my mouth with a dramatic sigh. “Happy now?”
He gave a tired smile, and only then did he let himself take a piece. He held it with reverence, like it was something sacred, and took a careful bite.
“Gods,” he murmured. “Tastes like heaven.”
And for a moment, just a heartbeat, we weren’t in the ruins of a forgotten school, in a city that wanted us dead.
We were just two friends, sharing bread and silence.
I chewed it, savouring each bite like it was our last. It began to disappear in my hands.
When it was finally gone, I sighed, still hungry.
“Did you have any trouble?” Finn asked, voice low and wary as always.
“Not really.” I shrugged like it was nothing. I tugged on the small hand carved wooden wolf charm Finn had once given me around my neck. It hung low on a thin black cord and touching it comforted me.
“A couple of sentinels tried to chase me through the market, but I gave them the slip.”
His eyes cut sideways to mine, brow furrowing. “Elira… you didn’t use your powers again, did you?” The whisper carried more fear than accusation.
I hesitated, then grimaced. “No one saw me.”
“That’s not a ‘no.’” His voice was sharper now, tight with worry.
“Finn,” I said, more gently this time. “No one saw. I promise.”
He rubbed a hand over his face. “Elle, you have to be more careful. If even one Shade catches wind of what you are…” He didn’t finish. He didn’t have to.
“I know,” I said. “But what would you have me do? We’re starving. I’m not going to let you die in here on an empty stomach while I do nothing.”
“If there was another way—”
“But there isn’t,” I snapped, then softened. “Not right now. Not with your leg the way it is.”
Finn’s scowl was instant. “My leg is fine.”
“Liar,” I said, not unkindly.
His jaw clenched. “It is. And you shouldn’t be risking yourself for me. Not after what happened last time.”
I looked at him—really looked at him. At the way he held himself stiff, pretending the pain didn’t eat him alive. At the dark shadows beneath his eyes that said more than words ever could.
“You’d do it for me,” I said softly.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. We both knew the truth of it.
“Elle, you are all I have. I can’t be alone out here.” He whispered finally.
“You think I don’t feel the same?”
My voice was rough, low, like the words were dredged up from somewhere deeper. I didn’t have to look at him to feel the truth in them, but I still stepped closer.
I wrapped my arms around him, just to fight off the cold that clung to the ruined walls of our hideout. In my arms, his skin felt too warm, like a fever burning beneath the surface. I pulled back after a moment, my fingers lightly grazing his forehead, testing him.
He flinched away sharply, as if the touch burned him.
“Stop,” he said, his voice tight, strained.
I frowned, heart tightening. “Are you feeling okay?”
He gave a low growl, his frustration biting at the edges of his words. “I’m fine. Stop babying me.”
“I’m not babying you, Finn,” I insisted, but my voice was softer than I meant it to be, soft enough to carry the weight of everything I didn’t know how to say.
He pushed me away with an unsteady force, like he was trying to reclaim some kind of control. Standing, he swayed, his face contorting with a mix of pain and stubbornness. I took a quiet breath, stealing a moment to study him more closely in the dim light.
His skin was too pale—almost ghostly—and beneath the ragged hem of his pants, his leg was swollen, far worse than before.
“Let me see your leg, Finn,” I urged, the words slipping out like a plea.
His refusal was immediate, raw. “No.”
He hobbled toward one of the rotting desk chairs in the corner, attempting to sit, but his movements were sluggish, like he couldn’t fully trust his own body.
His face twisted with a grimace, and I could see the fight in him—the way he was trying so hard to hold himself together, to avoid showing the pain.
But I wasn’t fooled.
“Finn.” The quiet command slipped from my lips, but he wouldn’t look at me. He slouched further into the chair, his leg stretched awkwardly, clearly causing him more discomfort than he let on.
For a moment, all I could do was stare at him, aching in a way that had nothing to do with hunger or fatigue.
“Show me right now, or I swear to god, I will make you,” I snapped, my patience finally wearing thin.
Finn’s glare could’ve cut glass, but he said nothing, his lips pressed tight, jaw clenched.
After a long, agonizing pause, he growled, his voice low and dangerous, “Fine.”
I didn’t hesitate. I moved quickly, my fingers trembling with frustration and fear as I tugged at the hem of his pants.
“Be gentle,” he muttered, his voice hoarse, but I didn’t stop.
I pulled the fabric up, and then I froze.
The knee.
It was massive. Red and swollen beyond recognition, the skin stretched too tight, angry and inflamed.
Abrasions littered the surface, bleeding and oozing pus down the side of his leg in sickening streaks.
I could smell it, the sour, rancid scent of infection, the unmistakable stench of rot that made bile rise in the back of my throat.
“Oh my god, Finn,” I whispered, my breath catching in my chest, my heart thundering in my ears.
“I just need to rest it,” he protested. “I swear it’s feeling better.”
He looked away from me, his face paling to an ashen grey, his eyes blinking hard, as though he could somehow wish the sight away. His lips trembled, but no words came, only the deafening silence of regret hanging heavy between us.
And I knew. I knew it wasn’t just the wound that hurt him. It was the knowledge that I had seen him broken, seen how much he had been hiding, and now there was no pretending it away. No more pretending to be okay.
I clenched my fists, my own frustration and helplessness rising. “Finn, this is... this is bad,” I said, my voice trembling now with the raw weight of my concern.
He said nothing, his eyes falling to the ground, the weight of everything unspoken crushing the air between us.
“I’ll be ok,” Finn muttered, his voice low and strained, as though even speaking the words caused him pain.
“You need a healer, Finn. Right now,” I said, my tone firm, desperate even.
“And how will we get one, Elle? Just stroll up and ask at the hospital?” he snapped, his frustration boiling over.
I bit my lip, looking down at the swelling on his leg, the redness of it searing into my thoughts. I had to do something. We had to do something.
“What about Mother Ashford?” I suggested, my voice steady but laced with a hint of desperation.
She was the local warlord of the slums, known for having access to everything—if you could afford it.
And if you couldn’t? You worked for her.
I'd gotten tangled in her underhanded dealings once before, and I’d never want to go back to that. But I’d do it for Finn.
“No.” His response was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
“She would take me back if I asked…” I trailed off, the words hanging in the room, fragile.
“No, Elle!” Finn's voice rose, his frustration raw. “Gods, never again.”
“If there’s a chance…”
He let out a bitter laugh, empty and harsh. “She’d take every penny we’ve got left, then take your soul too. Do you really think we can afford that?”
“I don’t care what she does to me! Or the money!
” My voice cracked, raw and strained, as I dashed over to the nook where we kept what little cash we had.
Our ‘stash,’ as it was, barely qualified as one.
Inside the faded tin box was a pitiful $80—the result of weeks of scraping by, of scavenging.
We’d been hoping for a few hundred, enough to get us out of Varrowmere, but that felt like a dream too far.
We’d heard rumours of a land beyond the shadows, where the moon shone on a Starlit Sea.
Even if it was a myth, it was the only hope we had.
Finn’s gaze hardened, frustration flashing in his eyes. “But I do care! And it’s not worth it!”
“Finn, please.” The lump in my throat swelled as I fought back tears, my hands trembling around the meagre sum we had. “I’ll find something. Anything. Just let me help you.”
His expression softened, but the simmering frustration was still there, buried beneath the surface. “No, Elle. I won’t let you go to her. You can’t keep getting hurt for me. She’ll make you thieve again or worse, send you back to The Pit, and today—today is not the day for it.”
“I’m better than I was.” The words came out defensive, a shield around the vulnerability I didn’t want him to see.
“Maybe,” Finn said, voice low. “But she’s had her eye on you for months now.
Don’t get caught in her web—especially not now, with the king’s birthday celebration.
If they catch you stealing supplies... if they catch you—” He cut himself off, the weight of what he didn’t say pressing between us like an unspoken truth.
“They’ll hunt you. And then they’ll kill you, Elle. ”
I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. His words echoed in my mind, the reality of it all sinking in. I couldn’t lose him. I couldn’t lose him. Not like this. Not when he needed me the most.
“And if I don’t, you’ll die,” I said simply, though there was nothing simple about the way the words tore through me. It felt like my heart was ripping in two—one half desperate to save him, the other terrified it already might be too late.
“My life is not worth more than yours, Elle,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion. “It’s really not.”
“Yes, it is,” I said fiercely. “You are everything. You saved me—don’t you remember? That day in the woods, when I didn’t even know who I was or where I belonged. You gave me a place, a reason to keep going. I owe you my life a hundred times over.”
Finn exhaled, a sound halfway between pain and surrender, and slid down the crumbling wall until he was curled on the ground.
The light hit his face just enough to show the sheen of sweat along his brow.
He opened his arms wordlessly, and I didn’t hesitate.
I went to him, curled up under the crook of his arm like I had done a hundred times before.
The closeness of him grounded me, even as the panic still thudded beneath my ribs.
“You were so small,” he murmured, his voice low and distant, eyes unfocused as the memory took him. “Like a little mouse. I almost stepped right over you.”
I let out a soft laugh that was more ache than amusement. “I was feral. Hissing at you like a damn alley cat.”
He smiled faintly, a real one, though it was dulled by exhaustion. “I remember thinking, who lets a wild thing survive like this? And then you looked at me with those big blue eyes, and I knew I couldn’t walk away.”
I rested my head against his chest, listening to the ragged rhythm of his heartbeat. “You didn’t just save me, Finn. You kept me alive. Through everything.”
He kissed the top of my head—soft, lingering. The kind of kiss that said what words couldn’t. The kind that made you feel like home existed in someone else's bones.
“I couldn’t exactly leave you there, sitting in that pile of dirt. You were only a kid back then.”
“Pfft, like you weren’t much older than me.” I said, “You were practically a kid yourself.”
“I feel older. Like I’m a hundred years or more. My bones ache.” He sighed.
“I know,” I whispered sadly.
“After everything, where I came from. Having you with me seemed right. Like we were meant to be together.” He whispered.
Finn didn’t talk about his past before he met me, but I knew it was painful for him. His body held scars both internal and external that were a map of horrors for his psyche. So I didn’t push. After all, I came from nothing too. We were both relics from a past that had discarded us both.
“Promise me something, Elira,” Finn murmured into my hair after a while.
I didn’t answer right away. My chest tightened. “What?” I finally whispered.
“Promise me… if something happens. If I don’t make it out of this…” His voice cracked, quiet and raw. “Promise me you’ll leave Varrowmere. Alone. Trust no one, just run. Get out.”
“No,” I breathed, already shaking my head. “Finn, don’t—”
“Elle,” he cut me off gently but firmly, “you don’t belong here. Not in this city, not in this life. Find that Starlit Sea. You’re meant for something more.”
“Not without you,” I said, voice rising despite myself. “I’m not leaving you behind, I don’t care if—”
“Yes. Without me,” he said, eyes suddenly sharp, pleading. “If you have to. If it comes to that. Please, Elle. Please.”
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, cupping my face in his rough, shaking hands. His brown eyes, always so full of kindness and mischief, were burning now with something far heavier. Urgency. Resignation. Love.
“Elle…” he said again, quieter this time. Like my name hurt to speak.
And for a moment, I saw the toll the city had taken on him.
The way his skin hung a little too loosely around his cheeks, the lines etched into his brow that hadn’t been there a year ago.
The red in his hair had begun to grey at the temples, strands I’d never noticed until now, as if time had crept in and painted him older behind my back.
The weight of the promise settled on my chest like a stone.
“Okay,” I whispered, throat tight. “I promise.”
But even as I said it, part of me knew—I’d break the world in half before I let it come to that.