"Cirrus..." she whispered, her voice hoarse as tears carved tracks down her dusted cheeks.
"Miss me, Banns?"
Vivienne’s breath hitched violently. She thought the island itself was taunting her, conjuring a cruel mirage of his voice.
"Why would you torture me?" she groaned.
"I would never," the voice came again.
She turned toward the sound. There, ten feet away, covered in dust and bruises, but very much alive, stood Cirrus. A choked sob clawed up her throat. The next second, she was running. She slammed into him with enough force to nearly send them both crashing to the ground. Her arms wrapped around his waist, gripping his shirt.He’s real. His heartbeat drummed beneath her ear.He’s alive.
She pulled back just enough to look at his face. He was battered, his left brow split open, with dirt and blood streaking his skin.He’s alive.
Relief swept through her like wildfire—until it morphed into anger. Vivienne shoved him, hard.
“Don’t youeverscare me like that again! Do you hear me?Never again.”
She threw herself at him again, arms locking tight around his torso. This time, she held on.
He exhaled shakily, his chin resting against the top of her head. His hands settled around her back, warm and reassuring.
"Never again," he vowed.
* * *
Cirrus sat leaningagainst the rough bark of a tree, arms folded as he surveyed the group. "The island responding isn't so far-fetched now, is it?" Cirrus posed, his voice low.
They sat beneath a dense canopy of leaves, hidden in the cool shade where Owen insisted they rest. Dirt clung to their clothes, sweat drying on their skin. The weight of the explosion and the canyon’s violent collapse still pressed heavily on their minds. The ringing in their ears hadn’t fully faded.
Vivienne pulled her knees to her chest, her fingers tracing absent patterns in the soil. She barely slept the night before, curled beside Cirrus, unwilling to let him out of her sight. Even now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she blinked too long, he’d disappear, swallowed by the rubble that had nearly claimed him.
Lewis twirled a twig between his fingers, fidgeting as he mulled over Cirrus’ words. “So, if we follow that logic—explosion happens, Elandra disapproves, and thenboom—she pulls another divine tantrum and drops the canyon on our heads?”
Cirrus gave a half-shrug. “It fits. The same thing happened with the Apocrita.”
Silence stretched between them. Vivienne’s eyes remained fixed on the dirt, her jaw tight. The pieces were clicking together, an ugly truth taking shape. The explosions. The tremors. The destruction. It all tied back to one person.
"Enyo. Every time that bastard does something reckless, the island reacts," she muttered, fists clenching. "And we’re the ones who suffer for it."
The realization sat like a stone in her stomach.How many more times can this happen? How many more disasters are waiting for us because of him?
Lewis frowned. “But why blow up the canyon? How does that help him?”
“He didn’t,” Cirrus said darkly. “The canyon wasn’t his target. He blew up something else, and the island responded.” His expression twisted with guilt. “If I hadn’t pushed for the river path, maybe we wouldn’t have?—”
“Cirrus.” Vivienne reached over, gripping his forearm. “None of us could’ve seen this coming.”
Owen let out a sharp breath, adjusting his position against the rainforest floor. "It doesn't matter which route we take. It’s impossible to stay ahead of Enyo when he’s willing to destroy anything or anyone in his way." Frustration radiated off his words, highlighting the powerlessness pressing down on all of them.
Vivienne tried to rake a hand through her tangled hair, only to meet resistance from knots of dirt and sweat.Enyo doesn’t care. If the entire island were to sink into the sea, he wouldn’t blink—so long as he got what he came for.Her stomach churned at the thought.Does he already know what we’re searching for? Have his men found the same carvings in the ruins? Or worse—does he have an information source we don’t have?
Every step they took, they were one behind. Always too late. Always cleaning up his destruction. Vivienne wasn’t sure how much more of it she—or the island—could withstand.
34
The decision had been made. Owen insisted they follow the river toward the waterfalls, but they couldn’t afford another disaster like the canyon. No one argued. Cirrus accepted the plan without hesitation, partly because guilt scratched at him for leading them into danger, but also because this stretch of terrain was uncharted. They were walking blind now, no maps, no clear plan—just instincts and the luring rumble of the waterfalls to guide them.
Lewis limped behind them, dragging his feet more than walking. “If I’d known how much godsdamned cardio this trip required, I would've stayed home.”
