Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dahlia
At some point I must have dozed off, because suddenly the air is warmer, and the forest is changing.
I can feel it thinning around us, and the daylight is fading again.
In the place between awake and asleep, I nuzzle into Eryon’s arms until I remember why we are here and jerk my face away from him, stiffening.
He must have carried me for hours while I hid from sorrow in sleep.
I hear the rushing of the river as he sets me down on my feet and steps back, giving me the space I wanted so desperately just a moment ago. Instead of relief, the desperate urge to reach for him floods me, my fists clenching with the effort of keeping my arms at my sides.
He stands in the shadows of the trees, all but an invisible part of the landscape, as if he really is made of stone and ice.
But I know that he is scorching heat. He is safety in the storm, comfort in the dark.
He is my light, too. And damn me, but I should have told him. I should have told him everything.
I tear my gaze from him and look towards the water to see if I can figure out where we are, and when I turn back to Eryon—he’s gone. Disappeared back into the woods he protects with only my backpack sitting on the ground to mark where he had been.
No goodbye. Not even a fuck off.
I swallow against the raw ache clawing at my throat. Was he even real? Or did I simply conjure him from frost and fever, a snow dream woven from ice and longing? But the pain gripping my heart and soreness between my legs are visceral reminders of just how real he is.
I follow the sound of the river, blinking back more tears. I’m not sure how I have any left. The wind whips through the valley, sharp against my skin, and I drag my pack more securely over my shoulders before gripping the rope railing of the precarious bridge to cross the river.
The old Dahlia would have hesitated. Would have feared the height, the raging water below. But I have nothing left to fear. Death is already hunting me, and it’s not the river that will take me.
The bridge sways beneath my feet, but I press forward, climbing the hill on the other side until I reach the edge of town.
The tiny mountain village is half-buried in snow, eerily quiet in the dead of winter.
There are no pilgrims here now, no bustling voices or temple bells.
Just the muffled stillness of the cold and the pale wash of twilight, softening the hard edges of the world.
My breath puffs out in little clouds as I push onward, my boots crunching through the icy slush.
A cold gust pushes me back towards Eryon, but it would take more than the North winds to bring us back together.
I lean into it and head towards the familiar guest house that I spot just ahead.
As if Eryon knew exactly where to bring me back to.
I almost collapse with relief at the sight of home. Or at least, as close to one as I have right now.
I trudge up the stone path, my body aching, my hands numb as I fumble for the key tucked in the side pocket of my pack. I half-expect the door to be locked with someone else inside, my room long given away in the time I’ve been gone. How many days did I hide away from the world?
When the key slides in and turns easily, something in me uncoils. Inside, everything is just as I left it. The bed. The thick quilt thrown back in a hurry. The small desk covered in my notes.
I long to crawl beneath the blankets and disappear into sleep.
Just let oblivion take me. But I owe it to Sita and Tenzig to check in, let them know I made it back safely, and ensure Sita did the same.
With a final reluctant glance at the bed, I close the door behind me and head to the lobby to find my friends.
The fire is burning strong when I step inside, the scent of incense thick in the air. I rush toward the warmth, holding my hands out, the tingling sensation returning to my frozen fingers as the heat seeps into my skin.
The sounds of a door creaking has me turning just in time to brace myself before Sita barrels into me, nearly knocking me over. She wraps her arms around me, crushing me in a warm hug. My throat tightens and tears sting my eyes as the urge to unburden my soul overwhelms me.
I step back and shove my feelings down deep because if I start crying again, I’ll never stop. And Eryon’s secrets are not mine to tell. My lips clamp down hard in an effort to hold the words that threaten to overflow at bay.
Sita grips my shoulders, eyes wide as she studies me like I might disappear again. “Hai Migaia, I can’t believe you’re alive! We looked for days, but we had given up hope of finding you!”
Guilt crashes over me in a sickening wave. They searched for me. They thought I was dead. And while they were combing the mountains, fearing the worst, I was—with him. Heat floods my cheeks, but I welcome the warmth when my whole existence feels frozen.
“I’m so sorry, Sita. I can’t imagine what that must have been like. But I’m so happy you made it back okay,” I say.
Tenzig appears, carrying a steaming mug of chai. He hands it to me with a smile before settling into a chair beside the fire.
I cup the mug, letting the heat seep into my palms, and take a careful sip. The sweet, spiced tea should be delicious, but it tastes like ash. I’ve come full circle over this drink, from first sighting to final goodbye. I set it down, suddenly unable to take another sip.
Sita sits across from me, still watching me like she’s afraid I might disappear again. “How did you survive?”
I swallow hard, carefully crafting my answer. “I was able to dig myself out of the avalanche and find shelter in a cave.”
Technically not a lie. Just an omission of everything that came after.
Sita shakes her head in disbelief. “I know you’ll find your plant now. The gods have surely smiled upon you.”
Her words twist like a knife in my chest. I did find the plant, only to lose it again. But instead of voicing my heartbreak aloud, I force a tight smile and say, “I don’t know that the price is worth it anymore.”
She leans forward, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean? You must find it! You’ll die without it, Dahlia. Your life is worth any price. And not just yours—this could help others, too.”
I place a hand on her arm, my voice soft but firm as I say, “It’s okay. I’ll have to find another way.”
Sita opens her mouth to protest, but Tenzig interrupts her. “Even the worst storm must pass. When the snow settles, you will see the path forward.”
The words blanket me, heavier than the dread that’s curdled in my belly. I nod, grateful for his wisdom, even if I don’t believe it yet.
They don’t press me for details, don’t ask how I made it back. Instead, they fuss over me, refilling the tea I’ve hardly touched and bringing me food. I eat mechanically, more out of politeness than hunger.
Numbness creeps in, settling deep in my bones.
I tell myself that I’m just exhausted, that as Tenzig said, I’ll find that path forward.
But the truth is, I don’t know if this storm will pass.
I don’t know if this snow will ever settle.
And even if it does, I don’t know that my heart will ever thaw again.
After my third yawn, Tenzig bids me goodnight, and Sita insists on walking me back to my room. She sets up a small space heater before leaving with a lingering look of concern.
Once the door is locked behind her, I cross to the window and stare out over the river, my breath fogging against the glass. I drag my finger through the condensation, drawing the chemical formula for Silenol, the compound I was hoping to extract from the flower.
But it no longer looks like salvation. It no longer looks like hope. It’s nothing but a barrier between me and Eryon. I dash it away with my sleeve so my eyes can search the darkness for him even though I know he’s not there, no matter how much I wish he was.
If Eryon hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, he sure as hell wouldn’t be standing across the river in the trees, watching over me now. But I ache to see him. To know he hasn’t disappeared from my life completely.
The memory of his silver eyes flashes in my mind. How they burned into me that first night I saw them. The way they softened when he whispered my name, his name for me—Sruhnar. The sound echoes in my ears, curling around me like a prayer. Or a curse.
My fingers clench the windowsill, knuckles white. If I just stare long enough, maybe—
But the night remains empty. The dark woods hold no silver glow. Instead, the shadows swirl with secrets, and I am nothing but an outsider. I drop my forehead to the cold glass and close my eyes.
I didn’t just lose him. I lost everything. I’m left with nothing but the icy wind and the weight of my failure. But I have to move forward, because there is no other choice. I hear my mother’s voice in my mind again.
Onwards and upwards honey.
If only rock bottom wasn’t so much deeper than I thought.
Exhaling, I force myself to sit at my desk and open my laptop.
The scientist in me won’t let me waste time—not while I still have the memory of the plant fresh in my mind.
I begin typing notes, logging every detail I remember.
Although, now that I know how the specimen was originally obtained, I see its promise through a different lens.
The glow of the screen blurs as exhaustion presses down on me. Eventually, I shut the laptop, my brain unable to form one more coherent thought.
With a heavy heart, I crawl into bed, curling into a ball beneath the thick quilt. Sleep takes me fast, pulling me into restless dreams of endless caverns, iridescent violet-blue flowers, and silver eyes that I will never see again.