Luna
The deeper Thorne and I go into the mines, the worse it smells.
At first it’s just damp air—thick with stone and mildew.
But soon the scent sharpens to a sour bite that curls at the back of my throat.
Thorne keeps pace at my side. He’s a silent shadow with his torch lifted high, the golden glow catching on the damp walls and glistening rivulets that trickle down to the floor.
By the time we reach the cells, the stench is undeniable. Rot, vomit, sweat baked into the air so infectiously it feels alive. It clings to my lungs with every breath and coats my tongue until I have to fight a gag.
The coughing hits me next. A low chorus that echoes from the barred doors on either side. Wet, ragged, some punctuated with a choking rattle that makes the hairs on my arms stand straight.
I force myself to keep walking, even when the torchlight catches sight of one Dreg curled tight in his corner. His body shakes with every rasp, and his skin is sheened in sweat. Another lies still, head tilted at an unnatural angle, his lips cracked and blue.
“Lord have mercy.” Thorne’s voice is low, but it still echoes down the tunnel.
Ahead, two Keepers work in silence. They drag a limp body from one of the cells.
The corpse's arms and legs flop bonelessly against the rock as it’s hauled into the corridor.
No reverence. No hesitation. They add it to the small pile already forming near the wall—three bodies stacked like firewood, half-covered by soiled rags.
The torchlight paints their skin gray and illuminates their mouths still open mid-gasp.
My stomach lurches, but I straighten my back and school my face to stone. The Keepers glance up at me as if searching for guidance. For some beacon of hope falsified with assurance I don’t have.
Thorne is right. This is bad.
“Execute the worst cases,” I order, my voice flat.
“Anyone on their last legs goes… When you’re finished, move on to isolating the sick.
Keep them in the cells with plenty of water and move the healthy to another tunnel.
All Keepers who’ve been assigned to the mines in the last forty-eight hours will be monitored for symptoms and quarantined until further notice. No one else is to enter the cells.”
They bow their heads as they backpedal. No questions. No panic. The Keepers know better.
But Thorne does not. He steps closer with his jaw tight and eyes flicking from the pile of bodies to the still-living that wheeze and hack behind the bars. “You think the Keepers spread this to the children?”
Sucking in the putrid smell of death, I shake my head. “I don’t know… Until we figure this out, we’ll assume that’s what happened and act accordingly.”
His brow furrows as he stares at me. More confusion than concern swirls in his brown eyes. “But you think it’s something else.”
Not a question, but a statement. Even when I think my face is stone, Thorne can see the worry underneath. Because he knows me, like Sawyer. Even if it isn’t in the same way.
A stab to my chest.
I force my eyes back to the rows of cells where a man grips the bars with skeletal hands, his eyes glassy with fever as he coughs blood down his chin. My heart pounds faster.
“We should talk outside.” I nod down the tunnel and start that way.
He follows me silently until crisp, cold air kisses our cheeks. I stuff my hands in my pockets while looking over my shoulder to check for Keepers in earshot.
“What is it?” Thorne asks while practically leaning over me.
I take a long inhale to let the air chill my lungs, then slowly blow. We trudge through the snow in the direction of the compound, though I couldn’t say where we’re going. What the next move should be.
“Is anyone else sick?” I ask instead of answering him. “Anyone besides a child or Dreg?”
“Two of the Nurturers… but no one else that I’m aware of.”
“None of the Keepers? Not even the ones who worked the mines?”
“No.” Thorne’s quick to say. Because of course, he’s already checked.
If I’d been with him, I would already know everything, and the guilt of that knowledge makes my throat feel tight and stiff. Precious hours wasted…
I nod slowly, processing.
“Luna, please. What are you not saying?”
Pausing, I wrap my arms around myself and turn to Thorne.
My feet slide in the slushy snow. “The primary people affected have the weakest immune systems and zero contact with one another… It’s possible the Keepers are spreading the illness to the children, but if that were the case, I would think there would be a gap in symptom onset.
Instead, there’s a wave of sickness hitting both groups at once. ”
Thorne blinks. “Okay… What does that mean?”
“It means it’s unlikely to be viral. And it’s unlikely that it’s a bacterial infection spread through contact alone… The children and the Dregs had to have been exposed at the same time. Which means it’s likely they’ve ingested something contaminated.”
Thorne shakes his head. “That’s not possible. Their diets are different. We would never feed the children—”
“I agree, I don’t think it was food.”
He squints at me a moment before looking off, searching for an answer right in front of him. The worst possible scenario, out in the open for anyone to see.
His jaw falls when it occurs to him. “The water.”
When Thorne’s head snaps back to me, all I can do is grimace and nod.
“What do we do?” His eyes dart around like he’s looking for the answer. As he finds me again, I try to appear calm. But it’s pointless.
“We try not to panic.”
Thorne runs a hand down his face, smearing grime across his cheek. “Not panic? If it’s the water, that means the entire Sanctum could already be—”
“Stop.” My voice cracks like a whip. His mouth snaps shut. “Don’t finish that sentence… We don’t know who’s watching.”
He nods, but his shoulders hunch like he’s physically holding in the words.
I glance around at the white-capped trees with their skeletal branches bowing under their burden.
Everything looks so still, so clean, like the world hasn’t rotted underneath.
“We’ll need to isolate the wells,” I say finally.
“Seal off the ones near the mines first. No one drinks from them until we can test the water.”
Thorne shifts beside me. “And if that doesn’t stop it?”
“It will,” I lie. Because the truth is that if it’s the water, we’re already infected. It’s just a matter of how deadly this is.
From the look of the Dregs…
“We’ll ration water from the streams higher up. The snowmelt is cleanest there.”
His teeth grind under the strain of his flexed jaw. But then he nods. As steady and reliable as always. “I’ll send word… What are we going to do about the children?”
I look off and don’t respond right away. I know the answer even as I hopelessly search for alternatives. This is a scenario even the will of nature is too cruel to allow.
And yet…
She has chosen this path.
“Nothing,” I say past the hollowing of my chest. “We’ll treat this the way we treat everything else… The Shadow Sanctum has no place for the weak.”
Thorne sighs, but by the look on his face, I can tell he agrees. Even when I’m hoping he won’t.
Sawyer wouldn’t.
“I’ll speak to Father,” I say, squeezing my arms as though it’s me who deserves the comfort. I force my hands to my sides and suck in a breath. “We’re going to need to bring in outside expertise to test the water… Perhaps he’ll allow a doctor in as well.”
Thorne nods slowly, the sunlight breaking through the trees to catch on the sharp lines of his face. He doesn’t question me, doesn’t argue. As always, he just accepts my word as law, like it’s carved into stone.
But there’s something under the surface. I see it in the tight set of his mouth, the way his eyes flick to me and away again like he’s holding back words that taste bitter.
Finally, he exhales through his nose and says, “And what will he think?”
The question hangs heavy, souring the cold air between us. He doesn’t need to say Sawyer’s name. I hear it anyway.
I start walking. The snow crunches as he matches my pace, towering over me with his chest lifted. His jaw is clenched, but his eyes aren’t angry, just wounded.
“You know he’ll never understand this,” Thorne says, quieter now. “Men like him… they come from a world where children are coddled well into adulthood. They could never grasp what we do to survive.”
I point my gaze forward and walk to the beat of my heart, though his words grip my ankles. Because they’re true.
“Sawyer has never been coddled a day in his life… Maybe he would disagree with my decision, but it wouldn’t be because he can’t grasp making tough choices for survival. He’s survived plenty.”
Thorne scoffs. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“Luna, he’s not one of us. I don’t care what he’s told you about his past. He hasn’t bled with us, starved with us. He hasn’t earned what we’ve endured. How could he ever appreciate you the way the rest of us do?”
“The way you do, Thorne. If you’ll recall, the Shadow Sanctum wants little to do with me.”
“For the moment… They’re going to get over your betrayal as soon as they realize how badly they need you now. And when it’s over, they’ll respect you. Will he?”
I swallow hard, but the words spill out before I can stop them. “Sawyer understands me.”
That gets to him. I see it in the flicker of pain that flashes across his face, there and gone so fast it nearly breaks me.
Thorne looks down as his lips press into a thin line.
He breathes through his nose, heavy, deliberate.
“You think he does,” he mutters, “but one day, when it matters, you’ll see the truth.
He’ll leave. Or he’ll turn against you. But either way, he’s going to decide he can’t be here anymore.
And we both know he can weasel his way out of here. ”
I shake my head. “You’re wrong.” My voice is sharp enough to cut, though it wavers at the edges. “Sawyer may not be like us, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t belong. It just means he’ll go through an adjustment period. Like all initiates do.”
“You sound like you have long-term plans for him.”
“I do,” I say, but I don’t really mean it.
Thorne is probably right… One day, maybe soon, Sawyer will leave.
But it changes little. Miracles do not happen twice, and the way my heart has drawn life is nothing short of a miracle. It’s fruitless to think of what will be lost when Sawyer is gone, when all could be lost tomorrow.
Thorne’s eyes snap to mine, storm-dark and full of something heavier than jealousy. Hurt, betrayal, grief, all woven together. “What does that make me, then? Your mate? Or your mistress?”
The question guts me. I face forward for what feels like too many strides, letting him stomp beside me. He sounds angry, but it’s only on the surface. Mostly, he sounds scared.
It hits me all at once what I’m about to do. What I promised Sawyer I would do.
And it feels like too much. Right now, it’s way too much.
Slowing to a stop, I turn to Thorne. My breath fogs the air between us. “Thorne.”
I reach for his arm … and feel even more guilty when he doesn’t pull away.
“You’ve been my best friend my entire life.
I care for you. I respect you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved my blood.
I’ve known you the better part of my life, while Sawyer, I’ve only known for a couple months.
I…” I take in a slow breath. “I could never turn my back on you… But the love I feel for you is a different kind than I feel for Sawyer.”
His throat works as he swallows. His shoulders stiffen, his hand flexing like he needs something to hold onto. For a moment, I think he might argue, might fight me. But instead, he just exhales shakily, eyes searching mine like he’s memorizing what he’s losing.
“You love him,” he says—quiet, broken.
Frowning, I nod.
His eyes water as he looks off and blinks away tears it must kill him to show.
I want to comfort him. I want to tell him this doesn’t change what he means to me, that he’s not losing me. Because it’s the truth. He’s family. He’s the closest family I’ve ever had.
But he isn’t my mate. In time, I think he’ll see this is the way it’s supposed to be, even if it isn’t the way that we both wanted.
For now… I stay silent.
The snow crunches beneath his boots as he shifts his weight, squaring his shoulders like he’s bracing for a blow.
“I hope you change your mind someday, Luna. And if you do… I’ll be here,” he says finally, his voice raw, hoarse.
“And if I don’t?”
He gives me the saddest, most beautiful smile. Almost as beautiful as Sawyer’s. “I’ll still be here.”
The words strike me deep. Loyalty, even now. It’s everything I admire about him. And everything that makes this cut worse.
When I’m unable to find a reply that doesn’t taste like ash, I nod. Breath fogs between us, then disappears into the wind. For a long moment, all I can do is stand with him in the cold, the weight of sickness and betrayal and impossible choices pressing down on both of us.
Then Thorne opens his arms.
Not with demand, not with desperation. Just quiet invitation. A gesture so simple it nearly undoes me.
My chest aches as I stare at him. Part of me wants to refuse, to keep the boundary sharp and unyielding. But another part, the part that remembers every broken bone he carried me through, every dark night he stood guard outside my door, can’t resist.
Slowly, I step forward. His arms fold around me, solid and familiar, his chest warm even in the biting cold. I let my forehead fall against his pec and shut my eyes tight. For a fleeting minute, I allow myself to be small.
Thorne doesn’t speak. He doesn’t push or ask for more than I can give. He just holds me with his chin resting lightly against my hair, his breaths deep and steady like he’s trying to anchor us both.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen,” I whisper into the fabric of his coat. “With the sickness. With Sawyer. With any of it.”
“You don’t have to know,” he murmurs back, voice rough but steady. “We’ll just… figure it out together.”
I squeeze my eyes tighter and hold on for just another second. Stealing comfort I don’t deserve.
Then I force myself to pull away, and the cold rushes back between us like punishment.
“Thank you,” I say softly, my voice raw.
Thorne nods, but his eyes are stormy and wet. He doesn’t reach for me again.
I turn to face the compound. I need to speak to my father before the situation gets any worse. The people will be demanding action.
Beside me, Thorne falls into step. Silent. Loyal. Always here.
Even if my heart insists on choosing someone else.