Chapter 27 #2
Yet all I could do was hope that maybe one day she would let me be that for her.
The front door creaked quietly as I pushed it open. Normally I would take the stairs two at a time, but I didn’t want to startle Sapphire. I walked slowly, with my heart in my throat.
As soon as I stepped onto the landing, my eyes searched, yet there was no sign of her. The room looked untouched. Heat washed over me, pooling in my stomach as it twisted into knots.
I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. Not yet.
Carefully I searched my house. She wasn’t in the washroom, and the lounge was straight, no crumpled cushions or skewered blankets. The door to the spare room was also wide open.
I took in a deep breath and walked to the doorway. I wouldn’t step into her private space, but I just needed to see if the coin or ribbon was still on the bedside table. Relief rippled over me when I saw them still there.
So where was she?
With a little more urgency, I headed for the balcony. The glass door eased open, and I was grateful for past Nik who’d oiled it a few weeks ago. Stepping outside, a sigh escaped my lips.
Sapphire was fast asleep on the daybed, cocooned with a cushion and the blanket I’d left for her.
She’d stayed.
I took a few small steps closer. Her glossy blue hair fell over her brow and along her cheek. My hand twitched. I longed to reach out and tuck it away, but above all, her body needed rest. I held back, deciding to head back inside.
She’d stayed.
The words kept tumbling over in my mind as I prepared myself something to eat. I’d left so early this morning, feeding myself had been a distant thought. It was now noon. Ada had left plenty of food, so I was spoilt for choice.
I settled on some leftover fruit and a slice of savoury tart.
My heart finally steadied—right in time for Sapphire to step back inside. She looked half-awake, eyes soft and heavy with sleep, and I realised the noise I'd been making in the kitchen must’ve roused her.
I swallowed the bite of food in my mouth, though it felt like a stone sliding down my throat.
By the light, she was so beautiful.
She wore a lilac dress with a tiny floral pattern on it. The times I’d seen her in The Grey she was always wrapped in darker shades and muted cloth, but here . . . in colour . . . she stole the breath straight out of my lungs.
“Hello,” I managed to say, my voice catching like a teenage boy with a crush.
She smiled, rubbing her arm awkwardly. “Hello.”
I quickly gestured to the plate of food on the counter top. “Did you want something to eat?”
Her blue waves shimmered as she shook her head. “I’ve already eaten.”
“Oh, good. Please have as much as you want.”
She nodded again, and I didn't know what to do. I wasn’t used to having someone in my home.
On a normal day, the quiet descended like a blanket.
I’d go out with River just to pass the time, just to fill my ears.
But now that she was here, the silence wasn’t all-consuming.
I found myself wanting to stay in, giving all of my attention to her.
“Would you like to go to the store for thread?” I asked, picking up the plate of food. I’d take it to my room to finish as I changed.
She glanced back towards the balcony and I noted the way one of her legs faintly flexed back and forth. Nerves. She was scared to go out there. I couldn’t blame her. This place was so opposite from what she’s known.
I took a small step towards her. “If it gets too much, we can come back. You just say the word.”
“Alright,” she said softly.
I blinked, not knowing if I heard her right. I thought for sure she was going to refuse and stay indoors. “Great. I’ll change and then we can go.”
She nodded, and I brushed by her, heading for my room. Wasting no time, I changed out of my Lightner leathers and put on some grey trousers and a white shirt, rolling the sleeves up to the elbow. After a quick check in the mirror to fix my hair, I returned to Sapphire.
Midday sunlight filtered through the streets of Lucius, warm and gold, as we stepped out.
I couldn’t help stealing glances at her as we walked.
She didn’t smile—not exactly—but every now and then, something flickered across her face.
A soft widening of her eyes, the tiniest lift of her brows, the way her steps slowed when something caught her attention.
Most people would’ve missed it.
But I’d spent enough time watching her in silence to notice when the light in her eyes shifted . . . even by a fraction.
A musician played near the bakery steps, the soft strum of a veslo threading through the air. Sapphire didn’t look directly at him, but her head tilted, just enough to show she was listening.
Further along, two neighbours chatted over their shared fence, laughing about something neither of us could hear. They looked our way, raising their hands in greeting. A child tore past us, barefoot and shrieking with delight, a flock of ducks flapping and honking behind him like feathered chaos.
I heard Sapphire’s breath catch. Not loud—more like a sound she didn’t mean to make as she watched the little boy run away. “There’s no children in Oscuro . . . well not young ones.”
My heart jolted in my chest. She’d noticed. I gathered my thoughts as she looked at me for answers.
I nodded. “There wouldn’t be. Oscuro’s only for those who’ve already made their choices. Infants and young children don’t get sent there.”
She kept her gaze forwards as we walked along. “Why not?”
“Because they haven’t lived long enough to choose what kind of life—or afterlife—they want,” I said. “When someone dies before thirteen, they come straight to Lucius. No judgement. No debt. Just . . . a chance to grow.”
She blinked slowly, taking that in.
“They grow like normal children,” I went on. “They still learn, still change like us, but here in Lucius, adults freeze at the peak age of twenty-five.”
Her eyes flicked to me. “Some of the children weren’t even old enough to . . . to know anything about the world before they died.”
I nodded softly.
“What happens to the ones who are old enough to choose?”
“They get to decide, but the choice isn’t just a moment. It’s a life. If someone chooses Lucius, they have to live in a way that belongs to the light. You can’t pick peace and then spend eternity tearing people apart. The realm itself won’t allow it.”
She frowned. “So it’s not just about saying the right thing or choosing Lucius.”
“Words don’t count for much here. Who you are . . . that’s what holds weight. Lucius isn’t a reward. It’s a responsibility.”
“And Oscuro?”
“That’s what happens when someone wants freedom with no accountability. They get it. All of it,” I murmured.
She stared at the surroundings—the children, the calm streets, the flowers, like she finally understood it wasn’t an accident this place felt different.
“And what about the people who don’t choose at all?” she asked. “The ones who just . . . end up in the dark kingdom?”
My heart ripped clean down the middle at the gaze she offered up to me, tears welling in the outer corners of her beautiful eyes.
“Then the realm chooses for them. Not as punishment—just reflection. If someone dies carrying only bitterness, hatred for others or themselves, they’re pulled towards the kingdom that matches what’s already inside them. ”
I tried to word it as gently as possible. The truth was never an easy weight to bear when it was first revealed. And if I saw her start to stumble under the weight of it, I would hold her up.
“So Oscuro wasn’t . . . a sentence for me,” she said slowly. “It was a mirror.”
I nodded once. “Exactly. You didn’t choose it, Sapphire. But something in you was still fighting. The darkness that is not yours to bear was loud, and Oscuro heard the call.”
She wiped the corner of her eye and looked away. It was hard to keep my hands to myself but I let the heaviness settle. She needed time to digest it all.
We kept walking.
Flowers spilled from baskets, windowsills, and hanging pots, every colour imaginable. She didn’t reach for any of them, but I saw her fingertips twitch at her side, like her body remembered softness before her mind did.
“Even the shouting is quiet,” she said, her voice so soft I almost didn’t catch it.
Before I could answer, she pointed towards a cottage across the street. “Why are there vases and food sitting on windowsills? Isn’t that just asking someone to steal them?”
I chuckled. “As tempting as it may seem, it’s just not like that here.”
Up ahead, a woman sat in the shade of an oak tree, cradling a pale orange cat against her chest. Sapphire slowed, watching them with a look I couldn’t quite read, her black wings shimmering in the sunlight.
Some Lightners’ eyes widened at the sight of them, some knew the stories of the great prince of Oscuro whose wings had been dark as night before turning blue, so Sapphire’s wings weren’t such a shock to them.
I cleared my throat gently. “Did you ever own a pet?”
She didn’t look at me as she shook her head. “Not unless you count the rats in The Grey.”
There was no bitterness in her voice—just fact. Survival dressed as humour.
I nodded, but something in me twisted at the thought. Someone like her shouldn’t only know comfort through scraps and vermin. She deserved something gentle that was hers and hers alone.
Maybe a pet wouldn’t fix anything . . . but it might give her something to hold that didn’t hurt.
A thought formed quietly in the back of my mind.
Maybe she needed something soft to belong to, before she could believe she belonged here too.
We moved along, reaching the haberdashery store. As we stepped inside, a cheery bell sounded overhead. At first Sapphire was cautious, taking in all the other women who shopped, no doubt assessing the place for danger.
I offered her a gentle smile. “Get whatever you need. I’ll wait here.”
“I only need thread and needles.” She left me then. I watched her wander the aisle with bolts of fabric, trimmings, and more threads than she could ever dream of.